Baby goes to a wedding

So we took the I man on his first big outing last night – to a friend’s wedding.  I wasn’t sure how long I’d last with him, but I did really want to go and was thrilled that he’d come five days early so he was a month old for the wedding – ie. old enough to go.  I had been worried about noise early on, but in the last week or so have really gotten over that, as I realise he likes background noise.

It was a 2:30 ceremony and 6pm reception, up round Circular Quay and The Rocks, and we paid a stupid amount of money to park at the venue.  Of course, right on cue, dude wanted a feed just as the bride was getting out of the limo to walk into the ceremony, which was outside on a balcony.  It was pretty overcast and threatening rain, and in fact did rain as the ceremony drew to a close.  I just knew I couldn’t calm him for long enough, so I had to retreat round a corner and sat on a bench to feed him briefly.  It was a bit of a struggle, finding a dress that would fit my seemingly massive body (have I mentioned how much I hate how fat I am?!), let alone one that is suitable for feeding in, and then once I actually got the boob out and got him attached it began to rain!  And it was cold and windy, not the best environment for a young baby.  I finished feeding him and walked back to the ceremony just as they were being announced husband and wife – damn it, I missed it!

Once inside I settled in with a glass of champagne and a water, having already had an experimental glass of red wine a few days earlier which seemingly no adverse reaction from the little dude.  We found a nice comfy seat and he got a good feed, alongside another woman who was feeding her baby, a few months older than mine I think.  I just chilled out and watched the ferries coming in the Quay and marvelled at just how god damn ugly those buildings next to the Opera House really are – seriously NSW government, WTF?!

Eventually we were called for some photos, and the photographer went nuts over the little guy, we must have posed about 20 times!  He is a very beautiful baby though, if I do say so myself… soon after we all retreated to what we were assured was a ‘baby-friendly’ pub.  It turned out to be a rather large and warm ‘old man’ pub, pretty noisy with everyone talking at the tops of their voices, but the little dude slept in his pram the whole time, it was amazing!  Of course, as luck would have it, he woke just as we were leaving for the reception, which was about five minutes walk away, so I ended up carrying him most of the way.

We arrived at the fabulous venue, climbed the million stairs, and discovered a very pleasant extra room specially set aside for chilling out and baby/breastfeeding stuff.  I set to some marathon feeding and didn’t manage to really get into the reception room until after the starter had been and gone.  Luckily husband brought me my plate – seafood!!  Oh I can’t tell you how freaking amazing the oyster was, or the smoked salmon – I’d forgotten how much I missed all that stuff, yum!  Eventually I made it into the reception where we were served the main and the little guy slept in his pram the whole way through that, so I actually got to eat my meal in peace for once (delicious marinated barramundi, plus the mushrooms from the boys steaks, which they didn’t want).  Since having this baby I’ve never really been full, I’m constantly ever so slightly hungry.  So I just keep eating what’s there.  When the speeches began, and most people were a bit drunk, the little man awoke and wanted boobie.  I just couldn’t be bothered going to the room, and I wanted to hear the speeches (which went on a long time – never seen so many speeches at the one wedding).  So I just draped my scarf over my shoulder and discreetly latched the little man on and happily fed him as we listened to the speeches, it was great.

The rest of the night he slept on me, and husband, and at one point I relented and passed him to the best man who seemed somewhat less drunk than everyone else and I know he’s had a few kids and knows what he’s doing.  The baby didn’t wake up at all and husband and I got in a bit of dancing and even went outside for a very sneaky smoke!  I didn’t smoke a whole cigarette, just a few drags – again, so good, I really miss it!  But I’d never take it back up again, especially while feeding and just having babies, I wouldn’t want him exposed.  I held the little man for the rest of the night, alternating between the private room and the reception.  People were really trashed, and I didn’t like having him around them, but it was really harmless in the end.  It was great sitting quietly feeding him, listening to the ridiculously daggy ipod selection and watching the light show on the Opera House, the flames along the water and the ferries going back and forth under the bridge.  As much as I hate Sydney, that was quite cool.  I heard Toto’s Africa starting up in the reception room at one point and I just had to go out there as I knew everyone would be going crazy, especially husband and all his mates.  The little dude was chilled out but he looked like he might be waking up and I thought it was because it was so loud, but then a couple of songs later ‘woop, there it is’ or whatever it is, that hip hop from like 15 years ago started up, massive bass, and the little man just passed right out to that!

Eventually we go out of there about midnight, and although husband was a bit, let’s say ‘difficult’ on the way home and when we arrived, all in all it was a total success.  Husband was awesome during the day and evening really, looking after me and making sure I had what I needed.  It was just that tail end where he got a bit stupid, but that happens, and it all worked out in the end.  I don’t think the little man has suffered any adverse effects as a result of such a long, loud outing.  I don’t like driving with him, as he cried all the way home too last night, but it’s got to be done.  Again, I felt terrible that he was crying and I had to keep driving, but eventually he went quiet.  Although that made me feel even more guilty because I thought, ‘did we just make our baby cry it out?!  Oh no!’  I think he’s okay though.


Author: curiosikat

Writer, editor, linguist, social historian...

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