America Hates Birthing People
But We Love Watching Them
Brooke Raybould has been pregnant for what seems like years only because I’ve been following her pregnancy with a regularity I haven’t committed to anything momfluencer-related in recent memory. My Instagram usage has gone way, way down in the last year or two, and on any given day, I’ll log in for maybe five minutes - ten tops, peruse a few stories, get bored, and log off. When the Neelemans do something people are talking about, I usually only know because someone tells me about it!
I’ve NEVER followed Raybould regularly despite having written about her twice, and the only reason I know about her pregnancy at all is because the most recent piece I wrote compelled me to spend more time on her page than usual (or ever).
Anyway, I’ve been following her pregnancy religiously for the last week mostly because I’m utterly fascinated by how frequently she posts, how many personal details she shares, and how very much in-real-time these revelations are. Throughout it all (moving into a new home, debating about induction or not, checking in to the hospital), Raybould’s performance of self remains unshakably consistent. It’s stunning.
Pregnancy and birth are INTENSELY intimate, and I think the reason I can’t look away from this one is because I can’t stop putting myself in Raybould’s shoes and wondering how it all feels.
In lieu of all this wondering, I wanted to revisit a piece I wrote about Rudy Jude’s most recent pregnancy, which captured me (for different reasons) two years ago. I’m not sure if I better understand our cultural obsession with pregnancy and childbirth as online narrative any better. Nor am I sure I understand my own personal reasons for consuming a stranger’s innately private experience despite knowing quite certainly that it makes me feel very, very messy.