We found a date where Charles could get off his polo pony for me to give birth
WHEN we had William (June 21, 1982),), we had to find a date in the diary thatat suited Charles and his polo.
William had to be induced because e I couldn’t handle the Press pressure e any longer — it was becoming g unbearable. It was as if everybodyy was monitoring every day for me.
Anyway, we went (into St Mary’s’s hospital) very early. I was sick as a parrot the whole way through thee labour. Very bad labour. They wanted d a Caesarean — no one told me thisis until afterwards.
Anyway, the boy arrived. Great at excitement. Thrilled. Everyone e absolutely high as a kite.
We had found a date where Charleses could get off his polo pony for me to o give birth. That was very nice — feltlt very grateful about that!
When the Queen came to see William m in hospital, she looked in the incubaator and said: ‘Thank goodness he e hasn’t got ears like his father.’
I came home, and then postnatalal depression hit me hard. And it wasn’t ’t so much the baby that had produced it — it was the baby that triggered off all else that was going on in my mind.
Boy, was I troubled. If Charles didn’t come home when he said he was coming home, I thought something dreadful had happened to him. Tears, panic, all the rest of it. He didn’t see the panic because I would sit there quietly. At William’s christening (on August 4, 1982) I was treated like nobody else’s business.
Nobody asked me when it was suitable for William — 11 o’clock, couldn’t have been worse.
Endless pictures of the Queen, Queen Mother, Charles and William. I was excluded totally that day. I felt desperate, because I had literally just given birth — William was only six weeks old. And it was all decided around me. Hence the ghastly pictures. Everything was out of control, everything. I wasn’t very well and I just blubbed my eyes out. William started crying, too. Well, he just sensed that I wasn’t exactly hunky-dory.