So, Kate Middleton. Love her, hate her or, like me, just feel a bit “meh” – you’ve got to feel sorry for the poor cow. I recently stumbled across a little gem from celebrity rag, Now Magazine quoting the first couple of vacuous opinion, Richard and Judy, who basically think that Kate should crack on and sprog up. “Princess Diana conceived William on her honeymoon”, they say. Clearly this is the super-fertile standard that Kate has failed to live up to by not providing an embryo upon the close of the wedding ceremony. “But as she’s 30 perhaps she might be wise to get on with it.” After all, it would “provide a much needed boost for the country”. I mean, yeah – if there was a royal foetus, the country would feel way better about benefit cuts, the Euro crisis, paying extortionate higher education fees, the endless goddam rain and the sick corruption at the heart of our entire political system. THAT would solve everything!
Now this rattled my ovaries in more than one way. For starters, it assumes that Kate somehow has the ability to magic up a child in a heartbeat and all that is stopping her is her stubborn and selfish preference to wait. First of all, the last time I checked my “Big Book of Baby Making”, you need a chap for this kind of thing and, as the ever vigilant press have repeatedly told us, the couple have spent a lot of time apart as William is serving in the forces. Why aren’t Richard and Judy calling for Wills to get his royal arse back home for some loving and do his bloody duty?
For seconds, it assumes that the quest for fertilisation is not already under way. Now, the royal family are a bunch of weirdos so I wouldn’t be shocked to find that Wills had been clad in temperature controlled boxers since babyhood to preserve the royal seed, and that Kate had been rolled in for a Doppler scan and a Tubular Patency Test before Will put a ring on it. But sometimes, and more often than a people realise, mother nature just doesn’t come through. Because (if you are a horny teenager, stop reading and wear a bloody condom), it’s just not true that all unprotected sex leads magically to fertilisation. Sometimes, it takes you a while to hit the jackpot. Sometimes a long time. You can have all the pieces in place, all the tools are working and tonight is THE night, but whoops – no cigar, or fertilised embyro as the case may be. Infertility, explained or unexplained, can be frustrating, life-consuming and heartbreaking for a couple. It’s pretty gruelling that ordinary women have to deal with doddery aunts and insensitive friends asking “When are you two going to have a baby” every fricking five minutes without opening every major news publication asking the same question and even worse, suggesting that somehow by not providing this child you are letting down the nation.
Now, before I am dragged off to the Tower, I am not suggesting that Kate and Wills are suffering from infertility. That is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. However, an alternative reason for the lack of heir is that Kate and William have just decided that now is not the time. Perhaps they wanted to enjoy time actually being married before signing up the circus of royal babies? That’s fine, say Richard and Judy because Kate is a “product of the age” and women wait now before “sprogging up”. But is it really fine, when the British media is essentially waiting, bright-eyed beside her, asking every couple of hours “is it now? Can you give us the child now? When? Tomorrow? The next day? Give us the child!” If she declines to eat a bloody peanut the newspapers explode in a frenzy of speculation.
The media is obsessed with women’s child-bearing capabilities. If a woman looks a little tubby, she is pregnant. If she mentions children, smiles at a child, is photographed with a child, she is pregnant or trying to get pregnant or can’t get pregnant. And if she is in the public eye, the whole world needs to know. Actress Jennifer Aniston has been subjected to a decade of baby related media attention. First it was claimed that it was her refusal to have babies that ended her marriage and lead to a succession of failed relationships. Ah, if only she put her womb into action she wouldn’t be alone! Whatever she achieves in her career, she is constantly referred to as some sort of half-completed woman because she hasn’t produced progeny.
I say: back off, Now Magazine. Back off, Richard and Judy. Middleton’s uterus is probably the last vestige of personal space for that poor cow and until she sees fit to tell you, what she keeps in it is her own bloody business.