On Saturday we went to a wedding. A beautiful wedding. It was a bit of a special one, as the couple getting married are good friends that go way back to our pre-parenthood days in Reading. But I’ll admit, before the wedding I didn’t know if I’d really enjoy it. I mean really enjoy it – like you can when you’re free to drink as much bubbly as you like and make the most of all that Pimms.
But I did enjoy it and, what’s more, I remembered it all afterwards. Despite not drinking or being able to eat the delicious camembert on the cheese board, I had a brilliant time. A few things made it that bit more special….
One of my favourite things about going to a wedding as a guest is getting all dolled up in fancy clothes that you don’t usually get to wear. Call me frivolous, but it’s part of the fun as far as I’m concerned. Being pregnant made this bit of the day even more enjoyable – I slathered on the bump lotions and actually felt half human instead of whole beach ball as I looked in the mirror. (I wore the Keungzai Wrap Front Dress that doubles up as a nursing dress post-pregnancy. Gorgeous!)
Frog got as involved in the getting ready part as much I did, asking me to put her hair up (usually just brushing her hair is a huge battle) and chatting to me as I did my make up.
Once we were all scrubbed up we had a family photo (despite the husband’s protestations). This is the first ever photo of all three of us that includes the bump. It also perfectly illustrates the reason I tend to wear heels when out with the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine…
I always blub at weddings. I can’t help it, I’m a sap. Being pregnant meant I could indulge in the tears whole heartedly – it’s the hormones, you know?
Arriving at the reception venue
Usually this would be the bit where I’d ooh and ah over all the lovely unique touches at the venue, before heading straight for the free champers or Pimms. This particular wedding was full to the brim with gorgeous little personalised ideas, from a photo booth with vintage picture frames and lampshades hanging in the trees, to jam jars as glasses and mismatched vintage crockery. There was a VW camper van as a bar, garden games, a little wigwam for the kids and an old bike with a basket for the cards. As I wasn’t drinking all the Pimms I spent a bit more time actually wandering around looking at all these cute touches.
Food takes on a new meaning when your taste isn’t dulled by alcohol. The food at this wedding was amazing – roasted chicken presented on carving boards, cheese and bread in picnic hampers, salad in kilner jars and little pies that I scoffed in seconds. It was tasty and delicious and even more of a highlight because I was pregnant and starving.
I’m not going to lie. I’m not as agile as usual (in my head, pre-pregnancy, I was a lithe dancing MACHINE, totally burning up that dancefloor). But I did find it quite funny to see the baby in my belly going nuts as the beats kicked in. At one point I swear my bump was moving to the rhythm of the music.
Putting your feet up
When you reach the latter stages of pregnancy people start to feel sorry for you. They see your big old bump, lack of wine in hand and puffy feet and do things like pull out chairs for you to sit on and ask if you’re OK. Milk it – I do. I enjoyed a good twenty minutes on my backside as Frog danced with various people (thank you Gemma!) while I looked on.
The one plus side of being designated driver is that you save a fortune on taxi fares. That’s never going to be a bad thing.
Waking up hangover free
Possibly the very best thing about going to a wedding when you’re eight months pregnant is waking up with a clear head the following morning and a knowledge that you didn’t do anything cringe-worthy. You escape “the fear” (the very worst side of a hangover if you ask me) and get to feel sorry for all the people who felt sorry for you the day before.
It turns out going to a wedding when you’re eight months pregnant is pretty fun after all.