Many a woman might feel bitter when the young thing who stole away her prince (literally) comes out in the press as up the duff. Luckily, I’m not like that. I have come to accept that the relationship between Wills and me never would have lasted, and I bear no grudge against Catherine for her choices: having what can only be described as a relatively showy ceremony, becoming impregnated before we all are sure that the world in fact is not ending in 2012—it’s not my place to judge her. In fact, given my wonderfully generous nature, I have instead chosen to offer her a lesson that will also benefit any woman who finds herself in a family way.
It is, simply, get a grip.
You’ve chosen to bring another human being into this world and while it’s a morally questionable decision, it’s a done deal now. You may feel that the changes a child will bring are all going to be sweet and lovely, but stop relying on Christmas adverts for your information. Of course, there’s bound to be some nice things, but you need to be prepared for lots and lots of hassle and grief that basically will never ever ever go away. By the way, congratulations!
Let’s look at an analogy: when you were younger, you may have had a pet gerbil. If so, you know that gerbils need to be fed, watered and tidied on a pretty regular basis. If you wanted to sleep over at a friend’s house or go on holiday, you had to make arrangements to ensure the gerbil was taken care of. That’s pretty much what a baby is: a very large, hairless gerbil that lives inside your body until it is expelled down your lady chute and becomes completely dependent on you for (at least) the next sixteen to eighteen years.
Of course, if you neglected your gerbil, the worst thing that could have happened was that your parents grounded you for a weekend and you had to chuck the carcass out in the bin. If you mess about with your baby’s care, though, I’m afraid the consequences are a bit grander.
If you don’t take care of your offspring, you can seriously eff up its body and/or mind. We already have enough unhealthy and unhappy people in the world; no more are currently required, thank you. Additionally, the effects of any kind of neglect or abuse stay with a little person after they become a big person, and this is rarely good news for anyone. He or she may be unable to find love, may turn to criminal activities or, most worryingly of all, could gain a position of power in government and then we’ll all be buggered.
So buck up and grow up. Take care of yourself while you’re preggers—even if this means giving up certain foods, drinks or official tours of Commonwealth realms. The sprog’s well-being needs to be your priority now. Once the kid’s born, you’ll have even more responsibilities—ranging from preparing healthy foods and cleaning poo to showing love and teaching life skills. Basically, get yourself sorted.
Those of you who are non-breeders may assume that this advice is so incredibly obvious that I needn’t have sullied the pages of Everyone Needs An Algonquin discussing it. Alas, common sense is not as common as it should be. If you spend the next day counting all the people you meet whom you would describe as twattish, the number, I fear, will be quite large. Those people weren’t born twats, you know—they became twats and many did so because of poor behaviour on their parents’ parts.
But also consider this: the American charity the March of Dimes is running a campaign whose sole purpose is to convince pregnant women to let their feotuses brew for the whole nine months. Now it seems pretty obvious to me that, unless there were an emergency, we’d just pretty much all agree to let the baby be born when he or she is ready to be born. But charities don’t spend money on campaigns that don’t have target audiences. Apparently there are women who need to be told not to muck about with their baby’s due date just because they’re sick of being pregnant. My beef’s not with the charity itself (dimes are actually one of my favourite coins and I strongly support anyone prepared to march for them). I just think its campaign indicates a pretty sad state of affairs.
So to the Duchess and anyone else whose rabbit has recently died, I say good luck on the adventure that is pregnancy and parenthood. Just be sure to make responsible choices from here on in. It might be helpful to remember while you’re looking forward to the arrival of your little bundle of joy, that Klara Hitler was probably pretty excited about hers as well.
PS: Kate, do you mind if I call you Kate, I hope you are feeling better soon and the rest of your pregnancy is without pain or illness. Follow your doctors’ advice, get some rest and, despite what one semen-obsessed psychologist at SUNY-Albany says, don’t fall for that old ‘hair of the dog that bit you’ remedy for morning sickness.