My wedding day was remarkable in its unremarkability. I am certainly not a planner and my life is about stumbling from one event to the other.. Sometimes literally as I am extremely clumsy (or I’ve had too much wine).
We were 4 years together and while out one night celebrating my 31st birthday, a friend said to me that if she was 31 again she’d come off the pill and start trying for a baby as herself and her husband were having problems conceiving.. She told me it could take years for the pill to leave your system. That night, while a bit tipsy, I broached the subject and himself agreed…he too had taken a drink and may have said anything to initiate a night of passion. The next day I got my hands on some folic acid and binned my box of pills. I was terrified to ask him sober if we were still running with The Plan in case he didn’t remember or nixed it as I had set my biological clock into overdrive. When I eventually plucked up the courage, he was aware of it and even a little excited. In true Aisling style I told my parents, my sister… possibly guests I was repping in the hotel and when I got my period I wept. My Mam tried not to laugh as she told me these things didn’t happen immediately but I’m the person who wears the shoes out of the shop. I needn’t have panicked as that was the last period I’d see for 10 months.
I then turned into that most precious and irritating of all creatures, second only to teenagers; The First Time Pregnant Mother. I was forever rubbing my bump, and buying baby books (look look he’s a pip, a grape, a strawberry!) and I called my gynae daily.. I’m sure he thought about blocking my number.
My worries didn’t end with the amount of kicks I was getting or the unpasteurised milk I accidentally drank… I began to think of the future… where would we live? Could I continue repping? We sat down to dinner one night and I broached my concerns and we decided to live in Dublin and then came to the conclusion that we should probably get married. This seems desperately unromantic but it’s what happened and while my husband is not one for big, romantic gestures, he is unequivocally the best thing that ever happened to me and yang to my yin. We had much paper work to do to before I would become Mrs Ozdemir and it involved a trip to the Irish embassy in Ankara at 5 months pregnant to prove I was not married to anyone else… I felt a little tense as this was background checked in case like an episode of Eastenders someone tried to sabotage us but all went smoothly. We also had to have our bloods checked and I thought it a good sign that we were both A+. So we proved we were both STD and spouse free and booked a day in the local government office to seal the deal. The lady in charge was well known in Kusadasi as a flamboyant character who was a little flexible with dates if plied with chocolate.
The morning of my wedding I put on the ill-fitting €20 pink and white sundress I bought a few days earlier….I’m not that fashion forward at the best of times but pregnancy makes me care a little less and I was far from glowing. I had gotten my hair done that morning in a local hotel as I felt the occasion deserved a bit of glamour and the girl had scraped my hair back in a very unflattering manner making me appear to have a receding hairline and highlighting my grey roots (first pregnancy, scared of dye). Ossie was wrecking my head with his nerves… he is the polar opposite to my “spotlight whore” (coined by my good friend Susan). My Mam and Dad were bemused by the lack of pomp and our friends Orlagh and Durmus arrived as witnesses. They were both badly hungover and Orlagh kept apologising for the bang of drink off the pair of them.
We arrived at the Belediye (government office) and the celebrant did not disappoint in a red velvet ensemble complete with matching bejewelled and feathered pen. It was all over in 5 minutes and it was only when we were outside the WC I remembered the rings…. We shoved them on each other’s fingers while Orlagh, an avid reader of OK and Hello magazine roared in bemusement and disbelief.
We then went to Somewhere Else, a fabulous restaurant on ladies beach and had a fry. My parents had dental appointments and me and Ossie went home to begin our married lives together. I showered just to remove the litres of hairspray out of my hair, put on a tracksuit and we sat down to a Lost marathon. This sounds idyllic to me now as I type to the noise of Plants Vs Zombies beside me. My parents arrived back and informed us they’d invited a few friends over and I sat there sullenly as they all drank and whooped it up as I yawned and wondered if it would be rude to go to bed.
I have been asked many times since if I regret this start to married life but I wouldn’t have it any other way and I insisted I would compensate with a fabulous 40th… which I did last month but hosting a party is a stress I would not visit again and I will blog about in my next article… in fact I started this one meaning to write about my 40th but I felt it needed the background story of my wedding first.
We moved to Ireland a couple of months later in 2007 and Conall was born in January of 2008 and each disorganised block of our life tipped the next like a bunch of dominoes till we are here 9 years and 3 sons later . I blush to type this but we are definitely more in love than ever. A marriage is not made from an elaborate night and exotic honeymoon but the day to day joy and struggles that come with life. As long as you can laugh at yourself and each other, and after a day of drudgery, look up from emptying the dishwasher while he’s making dinner and realise you still fancy the pants off him, all is good!