Monday, 22 July 2013

An Article: "Prince William will do the right stuff on the day"

Here is an interesting article from The Telegraph that was passed on to me:


'Prince William will do the right stuff on the day’

Kate’s antenatal guru Christine Hill explains how she prepared Prince William for fatherhood - and why the Cambridges are a strong team

Pity the poor young woman who is heavily pregnant in this weather. Imagine being overdue – by, say, a week – in the middle of a Grade 3 heatwave. What can you possibly say to such a person to make them feel better?

“Well, I’d say get your feet up, avoid swollen ankles, and thank God for flip flops!” So advises Christine Hill, paediatric and obstetric physiotherapist, author of two meticulously researched books on pregnancy, and legendary antenatal teacher.

Her pupils have ranged from A-list actresses and TV personalities to London’s yummiest mummies and royalty itself, including – yes, it can be confirmed – Britain’s most famous mother-in-waiting, the Duchess of Cambridge.

The Duchess visited Christine twice at her Thames-side practice in the course of her pregnancy – once with Prince William, once alone – for some of the no‑nonsense practical advice combined with evidence-based medical information for which Christine (and her partner Barbara Whiteford) are well‑known.

“She is a delightful girl,” says Christine. “What you see is what you get.”

But for expectant mothers hoping to follow in the royal footsteps, the news is not good. After 35 years and 6,000 couples, seeing on average 100 anxious mothers a week, Christine, 65, is retiring.

She looks relieved. “I’ve loved my time looking after all these girls, and many still keep in touch. It’s been wonderful. Some of my first mothers have insisted on paying for their daughters to come to me in turn, which is a huge tribute. But frankly, it’s time. I feel worn out.”

Christine doesn’t look remotely tired: her blue eyes are full of wit and life, her outlook positive. She has just finished turning her large consulting room, which practically sits on the River Thames, into a glorious sitting room. Though she talks of already having moved on, her thoughts are clearly still with all young women – not just the Duchess – who are facing the birth of a first child.

“My philosophy has always been that no one prepares you for the true ghastliness of birth. There’s a sort of whimsical attitude that it will all be lovely and that everyone can have a natural birth. But that’s not true. I want my mothers to be prepared and well-informed. Then they can make the best decisions without fear.”

She explains: “I had trouble giving birth with all of my children – Gulliver, Luke and Jess – in the Seventies.” Her first two labours ended up as assisted deliveries; Jess was born by emergency caesarean.

At the time, she was superintendent physiotherapist at Paddington Green Children’s Hospital. Married to Peter Hill, a professor of child psychiatry, she decided to take on some private work to help support the growing family.

“In those days, you had no choice but to go back after six weeks. We were shell-shocked, but we took our babies with us. They were walked up and down the Edgware Road by the physio students while we were on the wards. In some way, that was easier than now, when career girls – who are older when they start having babies – worry about how much maternity leave to take.”

Christine goes on: “I warn my girls that they must loll about and not worry about using their brain. Get into that easy-going mode before the birth, and stay like that when the baby comes. They may be feeling bored before the birth, and bored in those first few weeks, but that’s perfectly natural. I tell them not to feel guilty and not to worry about being brain-dead; that when it’s time to pick up the reins, their confidence will return.”

It was clear when she had her babies that girls needed classes to teach, inspire and prepare them. But Christine wanted to do it in a science-based way, not in a vague, hippy, eat-your-own-placenta one.

In 1978, she began welcoming small groups of nervous young women to her home from the 28th week of their pregnancy onwards, to explain to them – with diagrams and models – how their bodies worked and what happens in labour. “It sort of snowballed from there,” she says.

Christine is famous for setting up networks of new mothers: “The girls who met at my antenatal classes bond – they stay in touch for 20 years or more. They are on a shared journey for life.”

The Duchess was unable to join a group for security reasons, but she made sure Prince William got the “Christine” treatment, too. “I tell the fathers that the girl they hitched up with has gone for now – that she is fragile and vulnerable, and will be through pregnancy, labour and the first few weeks. Do they think I am some old bag? Perhaps,” she laughs.

Christine may come across as an old-school, no-nonsense type, but her advice is refreshing: do your homework, so you understand what’s happening, and then relax. Eat what you want (she gained four stone in each of her pregnancies) and don’t bother with too much exercise, other than the pelvic floor. “I like women lying around in pregnancy – they shouldn’t be jogging.”

After the birth, she says, you should “put a line through your calendar. Accept that this is going to change your life, that you will stay in a nightdress for a week.”

Given the hysteria around Christine’s most famous client’s child, does she ever feel she can predict an unborn baby’s gender? “I am not remotely interested in the sex of the baby,” she counters cheerfully.

What she will admit is that the Cambridges are “a very strong team; Prince William will be doing the right stuff on the day”. For Christine there will be no more royal parents-to-be. Instead, she intends to indulge her passion for a different sort of creation – renovating old houses, knocking down walls and climbing ladders to paint ceilings.

When she moves, will her clients still know where to find her? “The email will stay the same,” she laughs. “Meeting and helping so many lovely women has been an enormous privilege. They say: what will I do without you? But after the classes end, they detach – as they should. And as I am doing.”




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