Four thousand and eighty-six pounds. That’s what I might have spent on Champagne and red wine over 27 months if I’d continued drinking at my previous rate. When I worked it out, I nearly fell off my chair.
I enjoyed a £30 bottle of Champagne each month and, for this calculation, I’ve allowed for two £14 bottles of red wine a week. That’s £810 on Champagne and approximately £3,276 on wine. It’s potential spending rather than money I’ve banked, as pregnancy would probably have changed my habits anyway.
But the money wasn’t why I stopped drinking in October 2014. I was desperate to become a new mum and frightened of another miscarriage.
I knew it couldn’t guarantee a healthy pregnancy. But after losing one, I wanted to do whatever I reasonably could to look after myself.
After losing a pregnancy, I read everything I could about miscarriage, fertility and what might affect my chances of having a healthy baby. I began questioning things I’d done before the miscarriage, including drinking alcohol.
Nobody had told me that alcohol was responsible, and I had no evidence that it had contributed to my loss. But the worry was difficult to shake. I knew that miscarriages happen for many reasons, often beyond anyone’s control, yet I still found myself wondering whether there was something I could have done differently.
At nearly 40, I was conscious of time passing. I couldn’t bear the thought of becoming pregnant again and worrying about what I’d drunk before discovering I was expecting. Giving up alcohol couldn’t guarantee another pregnancy or prevent another miscarriage, but it was a precaution I felt comfortable taking.
During the first week, I noticed how much British social life revolves around alcohol. Birthdays, dinners, celebrations and Friday evenings all seemed to involve a drink. Declining one could invite more questions than accepting it, especially when you’re a woman approaching 40.
By week two, I was thinking about confidence. Alcohol made me more talkative and less inhibited, but was that genuine confidence or the effect of a couple of glasses of wine? I’d sometimes relied on drinking to feel more comfortable socially, and I wasn’t entirely happy about that.
Week three reminded me what I didn’t miss: the hangovers. I could wake with dreadful headaches that stopped me going to the gym. My doctor had once suggested flat Coca-Cola, but that hadn’t helped either. Drinking something I didn’t want to recover from something else I’d drunk seemed silly.
By week four, I was getting used to being sociable without alcohol. I hadn’t suddenly become confident, but I was beginning to realise that I didn’t need Champagne to enjoy myself.
Being married to H also made me think differently about drinking. Some of the older women in his Persian family have beautiful, youthful-looking skin, and I’ve often wondered whether their habits, including avoiding alcohol, play a part. Of course, genetics and plenty of other factors help too.
What I enjoy about Persian hospitality is that tea, fruit and food. There’s often a little glass of tea, pomegranates, watermelon and enough food to feed several additional families. Nobody really needs a bottle of wine to keep the conversation going.
The financial calculation was interesting when I considered the baby I was hoping to have.
According to research published by Aviva in April 2014, first-time parents spent an average of £1,619.25 preparing for their baby’s arrival. My estimated £4,086 could have covered that amount twice, with £847.50 remaining.
That’s two lots of prams, cots, clothes and nursery essentials. Not that I was planning twins. One baby at 40 was quite enough excitement.
In October 2015, I became pregnant with Cyrus. He arrived in July 2016, after a traumatic birth. After the earlier miscarriage, the anxiety of trying again and everything we’d experienced, holding him was extraordinary.
Motherhood brought its own exhaustion. With a six-month-old baby, I degfinitely didn’t need a hangover making the sleepless nights any worse. But my experiment didn’t end with a lifelong promise never to drink again. H bought me a bottle of Mumm Champagne, and I eventually broke my alcohol fast.
It wasn’t because I’d missed drinking or wanted to return to my old habits. After everything we’d been through, it felt like a celebration of Cyrus and the difficult journey that had brought us to him. I’d once enjoyed Champagne because it made the occasion feel special. But this time, the occasion was already special enough.
The experiment had taught me that I could enjoy life without alcohol, spend my money differently and feel comfortable without relying on a drink. And when H and I finally raised our glasses, it wasn’t to mark the end of my abstinence, it was to celebrate our little boy.
Have you ever given something up and discovered that, when you returned to it, your relationship with it had completely changed?
The £4,086 represents estimated alcohol expenditure avoided over approximately 27 months, calculated using one £30 bottle of Champagne per month and two £14 bottles of red wine per week. It is not a verified personal saving.
The £1,619.25 first-baby preparation cost comes from
Aviva research published on 22 April 2014, based on a survey of 2,000 recent parents. Individual spending varies.
This article describes my personal experience. It does not suggest that alcohol caused my miscarriage or that giving up drinking enabled me to conceive.
NHS guidance
recommends avoiding alcohol when planning pregnancy and throughout pregnancy.
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