No booze, dad dancing and trying to find something vaguely glam to wear, how will Rosalind Sack survive her first wedding as a mum to be?
I've had a first this week. In fact – and I'm just showing off now – I've had two firsts. For the first time in my adult life, I've experienced a dry music festival and a dry wedding. And no, I'm not talking about the weather – which was wet for both, thanks for asking.
I've never been one to skip drinks at this type of event before. After all, a few quick ones can help you cope with less-than-fragrant festival portaloos, rambling uncles and wedding dad dancing. And with huge bars, Pimms receptions and Champagne toasts, both events are more or less designed around drinking opportunities. But being pregnant… well, you get to see things in a completely different light.
Resisting festival temptation
Up until this point in pregnancy I hadn't missed alcohol – the fear of foetal alcohol syndrome and constant feelings of nausea have seen to that. But I thought these events might challenge my resolve.
My first test was a music festival with my partner Ed, and I'm proud to admit I wasn’t even once tempted by the overpriced bottles of warm lager. It helped that by day two the rain was lashing down so hard we were loathe to trek through the rivers of mud to the bar. But you know, still proud.
Instead, I decided to squander the calories I’d saved from not drinking on snacks. So instead of being on a booze high during my favourite acts, I was floating around on a Tangfastics sugar rush!
"Up until this point in pregnancy I hadn't missed alcohol – the fear of foetal alcohol syndrome and constant feelings of nausea have seen to that. But I thought these events might challenge my resolve."
Trying to do pregnancy glam
The following weekend was a family wedding which, it turns out, was rather more challenging.
The first problem was finding something to wear that wasn’t a granny smock. Although my bump is still quite small, I find uncomfortable bloating is an issue by the end of the day and I didn’t want to look like a lumpy sausage in a too-tight skin. I ended up opting for a long wrap dress, which I could craftily loosen as the evening wore on. I had to keep checking my ever-expanding boobs were behaving themselves, but otherwise, it was a success!
When it came to drinking, I succumbed to a small glass of Champagne during the toasts – after all, I was sitting next to the man who grew the grapes! My first taste of alcohol in four months was actually rather lovely, yet I dutifully limited my intake to one glass, and opted for orange juice and sparkling water for the rest of the night.
Turns out, I've never felt quite so self-conscious on the dancefloor, yet it was fascinating – and cheek-achingly hilarious – to witness the high spirits being enjoyed around me. Glasses sloshing with red wine and spilling down white shirts, wildly uncontrollable dancers wiping out anyone within a five-metre radius, and an older friend of the family – who I'd watched struggling to stand for quite some time – careering to the floor like a felled tree.
At this point, I did feel a little smug.
The post-revelry come down
Not so smug the next morning, though.
My new-found feelings of pregnancy-induced fatigue have meant recovering from revelries now takes several days, and those familiar feelings of nausea have stayed strong. In fact, it’s all felt rather like a hangover. Now where's the fairness in that?!