Here you'll find current musings, as well as the archives from two blogs of yesteryear: YoungMarriedMom and What I Learned While Writing a Novel. Please comment and share. We love well when we are in conversation with one another.
This weekend, John and I will attend the sixth wedding we’ve been invited to since we were married. I have been pregnant for all of them: three while I was pregnant with Jacob, and now we’re on wedding number three with Henry. Needless to say, our boys are born knowing how to party.
The most important of thing I’ve learned about going to weddings while pregnant is admittedly not applicable to all my readers, but still needs to be noted: even if you’re only about four months pregnant, even if you’re out of state and feel a desperate need to represent the great state of New Jersey, it is not—I repeat, not—a good idea to jump around to Bon Jovi, fist-pumping with your eyes closed. You will regret the vigorous motion once the song is over. You will also regret punching your husband in the face. Thank goodness he doesn’t bruise easily.
Attending weddings while pregnant also means you probably don’t have to worry about someone wearing the same dress—and you can wear it six times, you don’t have to be concerned about whether you’ll fit into your dress/glorified tent in the weeks prior, and you can really dig into the cocktail hour. You might not be able to last until the very end of the party, but sometimes that means beating traffic. Win. Win. Win. Win.
The other, more beautiful thing to mention is not so much about being pregnant, but it’s the simple fact that going to weddings might be more fun than getting married. Don’t get me wrong. Our wedding day was fabulous: perfect weather, a soulful homily at Mass, good food, good dancing, and lots of hilarious pictures taken.
But going to weddings as a guest means simply enjoying the day—spending real time with friends and family you might not see that often rather than running around the room to say a quick “hi” to everyone, not being the center of attention all day, and at the risk of being repetitive, the cocktail hour. This might sound like I’m just a hungry pregnant lady, but the truth is, the moment John and I enter a cocktail hour, we’re on the hunt for pigs in a blanket. And if they’re there, we find them.
John and my relationship started with high school proms and semi-formals, so we are all about attending fancy functions together. We can cha-cha-slide with the best of ‘em. But these days going to weddings with him reminds me that the commitment we made almost three years ago is stronger today than it was then. We are stronger today than we were then.
Getting is married is great. But being married is about eighty-five thousand times better.