When my best friend announced her destination wedding would be child-free, I didn’t think twice. But life changed—my baby arrived, exclusively breastfed and unable to be left behind. Then came the twist: two couples were suddenly allowed to bring their babies due to “childcare issues.” I assumed this meant exceptions were possible. I was wrong. When I asked if I could bring my baby, I was told no—unless I could prove I “really couldn’t find childcare.” The bride was now gatekeeping who qualified, and somehow, I didn’t make the cut.
One couple’s baby was born just a month before mine. Their parents lived abroad and couldn’t be trusted with childcare—exactly like my situation. My parents live overseas, my husband’s family is unavailable, and my baby won’t take a bottle. Still, they were allowed, and I wasn’t. I felt judged, excluded, and deeply hurt. It wasn’t about logistics anymore—it was about selective exceptions. The rules weren’t child-free; they were “child-free for everyone except a chosen few.”
When I tried to explain, the bride suggested I fly one set of grandparents to the destination to babysit for one night. She said we “earn enough” to cover it. I was floored. Flights, hotels, time off work—just for one night? That’s more than a week’s wages. The expectation wasn’t just unreasonable—it was insulting. I was being punished for not fitting her idea of who deserved an exception. It felt like friendship had turned into a transaction.
Now I’m stuck. If I go, my husband and baby stay behind—or travel at great cost just to skip the wedding. If I don’t go, I risk losing a lifelong friendship. A mutual friend warned me that not attending could “kill the friendship.” But how can I show up for someone who won’t show up for me? This wasn’t a child-free wedding—it was a selectively inclusive one. And I’m not sure I can forgive that.
