Governor Mom

The contractions were coming six minutes apart, so on May 8, Governor Jane Swift checked into Boston's Brigham and Women's Hospital hoping bed rest would delay the delivery of her twins, due June 15. With faxes, e-mail and teleconferencing, the Republican figured she could conduct the important business of the state from bed, including presiding over the meeting of the Governor's Council, an eight-member body comprised mostly of Democrats. Then, as if she needed another late-pregnancy complication, members of the opposition started howling about the constitutionality of a governor running meetings without being physically present. They said Swift should step down from her job until she could resume her place in the State House. They called imminent childbirth a “possibly incapacitating” disability.

This was not the first time impending motherhood had become an issue for Swift, whose twin daughters, Lauren and Sarah, were born on May 15. She had been pregnant with Elizabeth, now almost 3, in 1998 when she campaigned for lieutenant governor, touching off a raging debate in her state about whether it's possible for a woman to have a demanding career and a family. The timing of that pregnancy, Swift admits, was “not optimal,” but the fall-out, she believes, goes with the turf.

“Every politician is presented with a unique set of challenges, and mine are that I've given birth at times when there's been a lot of interest in my career,” says Swift. “Some people will think I'm not committed to my family, and some will think I'm not committed to my job. It's a difficult impression to address.”

And then things became even more difficult this past April when Swift assumed the top spot after Governor Paul Celucci was tapped to be Ambassador to Canada. Overnight, she became not only the first pregnant governor in history, but the first female governor of Massachusetts and, at 36, the youngest governor in the country. No doubt she's also the only governor with a two-and-a-half hour daily commute each way to work: Swift and her family live in Williamstown, Massachusetts, in the westernmost part of the state, while she works in Boston. “If there's snow or traffic,” Swift once lamented, “it could take four hours.”

Critics view her as a driven, selfish woman more consumed by her career than by concern for her children. Her fans consider her to be courageous and a terrific role model for working moms. They can't understand why her decision to work should be any more scrutinized than, say, that of Michigan Governor John Engler, whose wife gave birth to triplets five days after he was re-elected. No one questioned whether his domestic responsibilities would interfere with his ability to lead his state effectively. “You just don't see that many women being involved in politics at a high level and at the same time giving birth,” Swift has said diplomatically. “But the twins element is what really sends people into disbelief. It is a lot to absorb.”

Both Swift's detractors and boosters are watching to see how she balances work and family. She's the quintessential modern mom, conducting business on two car phones and a laptop during her long commutes (“I know every dead spot for cellular transmission in the entire Commonwealth,” she once joked), telecommuting this summer from her home office on what she describes as “a working maternity leave,” and sharing responsibilities with her spouse, a full-time househusband. She's also one of just five female governors in the country. As a Republican in an overwhelmingly Democratic state, some point out that she reached the corner office simply because the “real” elected governor resigned.

Bad press and abysmal poll ratings have made her job even more complicated. Controversy arose after she had employees baby-sit Elizabeth in 1999 and once used a state helicopter to get home when Elizabeth was sick with pneumonia. (She was fined $1,250 by an ethics panel for the former offense.) Should she decide to run for governor when her term is up in November 2002, Swift will add fund-raising and campaigning to her already heaping plate. She's waiting until next month, after she sees how the babies and the briefcase mix, before commuting.

Born to run

It's not that Swift isn't used to politics. When she was 7, she began marching in political parades alongside her father, Jack a plumber active in local Republican campaigns in the blue-collar city of North Adams, Massachusetts. He and his wife, Jean, a parochial-school teacher, raised Swift and her three siblings in the modest white home with black shutters in which the couple still resides.

Just three years after graduating from Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut, Swift decided to run for the Massachusetts State Senate on an antitax and education platform. “I thought, Are you crazy?” says Betsy Ginsberg, her cousin and Elizabeth's godmother. “But every time I think something is going to be tough for Janie, she surprises me.” Swift won the seat at age 25, and prevailed for second and third terms. Then in 1996, she barely lost a close race for the U.S. Congress. She went on to become Director of Regional Development for the Massachusetts Port Authority, and later, the state's consumer-affairs director.

Although Swift's husband, Charles Hunt, known as Chuck, is avowedly apolitical, it was politics that united them. The heavy-machine operator, who was a dairy farmer when they met, and later, a gym teacher, first spotted his wife-to-be campaigning in 1990. Ten years her senior, Hunt didn't realize that the person holding a “Swift for State Senate' sign happened to be the candidate. It wasn't until he saw her face on a billboard that he got the full picture. Hunt likes to say it was her smile that hooked him.

Two years later, he visited the new state senator on the pretext of wanting to discuss teacher hiring. What Hunt really wanted was a date, and, though he is typically reserved, he decided to slip her his phone number. At first, Swift didn't know what to make of him, but two weeks later, she phoned him and they met for brunch. They married in February 1994.

Hunt grew up on a farm close to where he and Swift now live. He quit his job when Elizabeth was born. “It's not financially the best situation to have my husband stay home, but we think it's best for the kids,” says Swift, whose salary is $135,000.

Parenting in public

Just as she did before the twins were born, the governor plans to spend two nights a week at her brother's apartment in Boston once the babies start sleeping through the night. On nights she comes home, she'll leave the office between 5:00 and 5:30 p.m. so she can arrive in time to bathe Elizabeth, put her to bed, and spend time with the twins. She'll have to be out the door before 7 a.m.

An obvious question is, Why doesn't her family move to Boston? One problem is that hers is one of just six states without a governor's mansion. But Swift also says she'd rather stick with her 260 mile commute because “I want our children to have a normal upbringing like Chuck and I both had.” Another factor is the support network she has in Williamstown. Her house is just 10 minutes from her parents', and even closer to adoring grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles, who get to see the kids constantly.

Those who know the governor well claim she is a devoted mother, unpretentious and down-to-earth. Swift is also considered to be smart and thorough, and has a reputation for being a policy wonk. Even so, her critics claim she can't be an effective mother and governor. “Every woman needs to continually evaluate whether her work hinders her children's development,” says Wendy Wright of Concerned Women for America, a Washington, D.C.-based public-policy organization. “As a mother, she can't be replaced. As a governor, she can.”

Many of Swift's constituents feel the same way. Beth Boris, 45, formerly of Winthrop, Massachusetts, thinks Swift's kids “are going to suffer because she's an absentee mom.” Lori Platt, 27, from Needham, Massachusetts, puts it more bluntly: “You can't be both a politician and a good mother.”

Swift often uses humor to deflect such criticism. Last December, when a Boston newspaper poll gave her a scant 17 percent approval rating, she told close friend and political consultant Margaret Dwyer, “At least I know all ten people in the state who like me!” And she passionately defends her ability to balance politics and parenting. “Going out and giving a big speech when you have lots of family stuff on your mind is probably the same as a teacher who gets up in front of a classroom and teaches when she has personal matters to think about,” she says. “It's the business I'm in.”

That doesn't mean she never has doubts about doing it all. “I don't know many moms who work, or for that matter, stay at home, who are happy with their choices every minute,” says Swift. “Even though I have a well-adjusted, totally normal toddler at home, I still have a gut check almost every day about whether we're handling her upbringing well.”

Whether the people of Massachusetts come to accept her choice, and Jane Swift as their leader, remains a question. Patricia McGovern, a Democrat who served as a state senator with Swift, believes that “those who are the first to do anything pay a price. Ten years from now, if another woman becomes governor, we'll all say, ‘So what?'”

Meanwhile, Swift sees her break-through role as a challenge – albeit one she didn't plan for. “Do I ever wish I had less responsibility? Sure,” she has said. “But I have been given an incredible opportunity, so I am going to make the most of it. I never expected to be governor. I always wanted to be a mother, but I never expected to have twins. So I guess I have this knack for doing things in spades.”