When I got married, my Maid of Honour was amazing. The hen do, the endless emails, her cutting through the bollocks and saying what needed to be said, and ultimately, spending our wedding evening getting as drunk as me, dancing badly and hiding her discarded tights in the wedding card post box for safe keeping. She was exactly what was needed, and I am ultimately grateful for her support.
Between us getting engaged and married, she also got engaged to her wonderful boyfriend. She planned the wedding with ruthless efficiency and yet, there have been no wobbles at all. Being her Matron of Honour has been a breeze. Even though the wedding was some 11 months away, we already planned out the hen do, an ultra-classy weekend jaunt to Skegness Butlins for a 90s revival weekend. 911 may or may not be headlining. Fancy dress costumes had definitely been planned.
Then you get end up getting pregnant the first month you don’t use any protection (because you naively think it will take months or years to see those two little pink lines) and you realise that (all going well), you’re due the same weekend as said hen do, and are, therefore, the world’s worst Matron of Honour. You feel terrible for letting your best friend down by pissing all over plans as well as all the sticks, and resign yourself to not being able to do one of the most important jobs entrusted to the matron of honour – the hen weekend. Although at least you’ll excel in the other role – being excessively overweight and frumpy in (thankfully, stretchy) bridesmaid dress in order to make the bride look even more fabulous in comparison.
Since then, my best friend has decided to change the plans for the entire hen do, to make sure I can be there, even though it makes it months before the wedding, and means that we can’t be in the front row to watch 911 in Skegness. Although I’m secretly overjoyed that I’m going to be able to be there and to organise it, I’m feeling mega-guilt at the fact that she’s having to compromise. I’m also feeling slightly nauseous (or is that morning sickness?) at the thought that I might just have a baby by the time she walks down the aisle.