I went to a three-day music festival while pregnant, here’s how it went

“Many moons ago, I decided never to make choices out of fear.”

Despite being seven and a half months pregnant, I wanted to go to Golden Plains Festival. Basement Jaxx and Cut Copy were headlining, it had to be done. However, when I mentioned the possibility of going to friends, the responses ranged from ‘iconic!’ and ‘I’ll push the wheelchair!’, to ‘are you crazy?’ and ‘why would you put yourself through that?’.

I’m 37, it’s my first pregnancy and the feelings I had about going to a three-day festival out in the bush became mixed.

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There’s a lot of fear around pregnancy. Even within admiration for appearing to be a healthy and happy pregnant woman, there is an implication that something has been overcome. It’s rarely assumed that pregnancy is going to be a fun time.

I trawled through posts online suggesting things like, ‘just make sure you stay away from the speakers’, ‘just make sure you don’t get stuck in the crowd’,  ‘just make sure there are lots of toilets’, ‘just make sure to stay hydrated’, ‘just make sure it’s a one-day event’ and ‘just make sure to be sitting down’.

Golden Plains would tick none of these boxes. Toilet queues are inevitable at any festival, sitting down isn’t dancing and it would be three days in the bush. I’d try to drink lots of water, but I refuse to be anywhere other than in the middle of the crowd or near the speakers when seeing live music.

Many moons ago, I decided never to make choices out of fear. Pregnancy has been a great way to test that commitment. In fact, as the months have gone by and my body has changed and the baby has grown, it’s as if every decision I’ve ever made has been revisited and put on trial: decisions about family, exercise, sex, food, socialising, solitude, work, money, beauty, pets. I’ve received advice from anyone and everyone, including doctors, therapists, psychics, astrologers, shamans and acupuncturists.

It helped that I felt more physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually energetic than I had in years. No one ever tells you that. No one ever tells you that pregnancy has the power to turn you into a version of yourself with bigger boobs, stronger boundaries and better instincts.

And I had no evidence, beyond a reasonable doubt, to suggest that going to Golden Plains would be detrimental to mine or my gestating baby’s wellbeing. Nevertheless, there were lots of crazy maybes. Like, maybe the festival would be overwhelming. Maybe I would feel trapped. Maybe I’d need to bail. Maybe not drinking alcohol, doing drugs or consuming nicotine would mean the whole thing sucked.

Maybe I’d feel huge and heinous. Maybe people would judge me. Maybe the swelling in my foot, which I’d been treating, would get worse. Maybe the intensity of the crowds and the volume of the music would somehow harm the baby and trigger an early labour, and I’d find myself birthing on ‘Sunset Strip’ overlooking the surrounding valleys. Maybes, crazy maybes.

But four facts remained key. One, pregnancy isn’t an illness. Two, I needed a dance. Three, there would be a massage tent. Four, my partner was going to be there with me. I’d been to music festivals without him before, but having him would mark a sacred moment in the evolution of our union and our transition into parenthood. The decision was made.

I booked in for an hour-long shiatsu massage on the second day of the festival. I packed electrolytes, soda water, kinesiology tape, body oil, Blundstones, pregnancy pillows, earplugs, an eye mask, vitamin C, magnesium, beef jerky, apples, dates, dark chocolate and my ‘pregnancy scent’, Eyes Closed by Byredo.

I woke up at 4:30am the morning of. I stretched, I meditated. I was ready.

When we arrived, after a 90-minute drive out of Melbourne and a breakfast stop at Maccas (as is customary), we found a camping spot close to friends, but not right up in their grill. We set up our tent under a non-threatening gum tree, and I helped, because moving and doing what I can physically has been good for both my circulation and for my sense of self.

I got lots of looks. Some admiring, some shocked, some disgusted, some… turned on? But I was used to it. Regularly going for jogs around my neighbourhood and the Botanical Gardens in Melbourne, while pregnant, prepared me for every kind of stare.

To be fair, I’ve never seen a visibly pregnant woman going for a run. And, now, I understand why: the looks are intense. No one knows what to make of it. The widened eyes, the open mouths. Is it safe? Is it hideous? Is it amazing? I would say yes to all of the above. And I would add that exercising throughout pregnancy has played a huge part in helping it feel like an invigorating experience rather than a debilitating one.

My style has never involved hiding my body and my approach to maternity dressing has been no different. Skanky then, skanky now. I’ve been wearing bandeau tops, low-riding pants and loose shorts. Colder weather has been challenging because more layers feel restrictive  but overall, pregnancy has unlocked a sensuality and a bodily pride I never thought I’d experience.

For years, I worried about losing my abs and my illusion of physical control. But the process of getting to know what I’m truly capable of and seeing pregnancy as a creative challenge, rather than a burden, has been truly liberating.

On the first night of the festival, when people would push past or knock into me, it was anxiety-inducing. But it got to a point where I realised, if I’m pregnant and I’ve chosen to be in the middle of a mosh pit, that’s on me. Festival goers can’t be expected to notice a pregnant woman in their midst when they can’t even see their own feet. So, if I wanted to move, I did and if I wanted a break, I took it.

Suffice to say, when drugs and drinking aren’t an option, dancing and delicious food become euphoric. Basement Jaxx and Cut Copy didn’t disappoint, but it was Frost Children’s trippy EDM set at 2am on the first night that was the highlight for me. I ended up dancing until 4am on Saturday and Sunday.

I kept checking in, mentally asking myself, “Are you forcing this, woman? Are you okay?” But the woman was okay. My lower back and feet were aching by the time we got back to camp, but a Loco Love chocolate, some magnesium and sleeping for a few hours alleviated any suffering.

What the experience affirmed for me was how we relate to pregnancy is how we relate to life. There are things to be serious about and scared of (I think?), but there are also things to dance about and to celebrate. Being alive and bursting with creative energy is definitely one of them. So, to rewrite some of Cut Copy’s lyrics, I would say, “If lights and music are on your mind / dance with your baby / every time”.

Madeleine Ryan is the author of A Room Called Earth and The Knowing. Her third novel, Love, Honour, and Obey, is due in 2027. Find her on Instagram, Substack or madeleineryan.com.