Dear Vikki,
Hi, my name’s Carla, and I’m a Canberran mum who wants to be your friend.
That might sound strange, and honestly, it’s pretty weird to write someone a public letter asking them to be your mate. But hear me out. I’m on your side.
I’m not talking about the relationship scandal that will never go away. You’re a part of Australian political history now, and nothing will change that.
But as a fellow mum, I’m on your side.
The other day, I was thinking about my mothers’ group back in my hometown of Sydney, and you were on my mind, too.
I mean, how could I avoid thinking about you? Your photo was splashed across every newspaper and website. And I got to thinking: what would it be like if Vikki Campion was in my mothers’ group?
What the hell is going on with Barnaby Joyce? Post continues.
You’re notorious. You’re infamous. And you’re also about to give birth to a baby. Oh man, morning tea catch-ups would be so fascinating with you around.
And then I realised that, as much as that fanfic idea amused me, a baby and mothers’ group and the whole damn thing was about to become your reality, and suddenly it wasn’t funny to me anymore.
What if you did show up to a local community health centre for a parents’ group, only to have the other mothers judge you? What if someone called you a “bad person”, like radio host Kate Langbroek did?
What if whispers of “homewrecker” fly around the hospital? What if all you need is help breastfeeding, or a caesarean dressing changed, or advice on how to ice your vagina after a vaginal birth, and no-one wants to talk to you?