From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I knew this summer was going to be different. I had a full lineup of Chicago summer music festivals smack dab in my second trimester. Would I sell my tickets, my friends asked? Nah. Baby and I were going to rock on in hopes I can someday show him proof I was once cool. So here’s what I learned after spending three days at Ruido Fest, one day at Pitchfork, three days at Lollapalooza and three days at Riot Fest pregnant.
Comfort is key
I knew I’d have to make some adjustments right off the bat. I always take public transportation to fests, but I decided to drive instead. It was worth it—I’ve lost parts of my soul on some post-Lolla El rides home. I also made sure to wear clothing that allowed breathability and shoes that could get me through the mud, which came in handy at Pitchfork and Riot Fest. I sat down during lots of sets during which I would have loved to have danced—but baby won that battle. Sorry, Florence and the Machine.
Not drinking was … interesting
I’m not anyone that needs to be intoxicated in order to enjoy listening to concerts, but it was definitely an adjustment to not have a cold beer in my hand while singing along to Alkaline Trio at Riot Fest. At least there are beer alternatives, right? Not as many as I would have liked. I made do with good old water, an amazing watermelon juice drink at Lollapalooza and freshly squeezed lemonade at the others.
Having to pee still sucks
One of the things I dread most about any music festival is waiting in line for the bathroom. I’m already someone who seemingly has a small bladder and has to go often—but this baby has increased that likelihood exponentially. I really didn’t want to play the pregnancy card and ask to cut in line. Luckily, I never had to. I just scoped out the least popular set of porta-potties and went before I even had to go. It was a smart call.
Embracing the mom bag
I was a happier person the more prepared I was. I stuffed my backpack with all my pregnancy essentials and crossed my fingers that security wouldn’t make me toss my granola bars. I felt better knowing I could quickly reach my anti-nausea lollipops, bags in case I got morning sickness, Kleenex (for emergency toilet paper), snacks that wouldn’t melt, extra sunscreen, hand sanitizer and a sheet to sit on. Nothing made me feel more like a mom-to-be than sympathetically giving my barf bag to a young guy I saw puking at Ruido Fest.
I really miss hot dogs
Since I couldn’t spend all my money on booze, I focused on trying as many of the food offerings as I could, which is a great thing, since my hangry-ness reaches another level while pregnant. Navigating what I could and couldn’t eat was kind of annoying. I got sick of asking vendors if stuff was pasteurized, especially when I always got confused looks in response. I just stuck to safe stuff and hoped baby wouldn’t give me major heartburn during Metallica’s set.
Personal space doesn’t exist
Pregnant or not, it’s always frustrating to have people carelessly bump into you and disregard your personal space. This proved to be my biggest annoyance. I thought people would surely notice that I was pregnant and back away to a respectable three-foot radius around me. Wishful thinking. No one really noticed my bump besides the security guard who patted me down while I entered Riot Fest. She squealed in delight and rubbed my belly twice.
I love this little baby growing inside me and can only hope he loves live music as much as I do. I regret nothing. Through the sweaty weather, claustrophobia, drunken teenagers and even the two rainy evacuations, I would attend all of these music festivals again in a heartbeat. Maybe just not for three days in a row. My body felt like hell on Mondays. Plus, it all adds up and can get pricey—I have a stroller system I have to save up for, after all.
Michelle Lopez is the digital editor and designer for The Mash.
