In the grid
I couldn’t see it at the time, but I was on a dangerous path Nicola Weaver, 23, Bridlington
Slurping the froth from the top of the tinny, I took my very first sip of cider.
I remember it having a rusty taste. The bitterness lingering on my tongue.
But the bigger gulps I took, the less the taste bothered me.
I was 13 when I had that first swig of alcohol.
Young, but in our area there was nothing to do.
Just fields, a couple of parks.
Anything else worth doing was a bus ride away.
So if we wanted to have some fun, we had to make it happen for ourselves.
Lingering near the off-licence after school, we’d ask passers-by to get us some cheap booze. Eventually, someone would go in for us. Then with our cheap booze in tow, we’d drink in the local fields until dark. Mum knew where I was, but didn’t have a clue I was drinking. Sneaking home after dark, I’d head straight for bed. It was fun and I didn’t care a hoot that what I was doing was illegal. To me, I was just being, well, a kid. But one night, I did go a bit too far… It was December 2010 – and, aged 15, I’d been out drinking with friends again. I remember getting the booze, a mix of vodka, cider and beer. I can still picture my mates and me, playing drinking games in our old spot. After that, I only have odd flashes. I was in the back of my friend’s car, then screaming at the paramedics in A&E. Then yelling at Mum from my hospital bed. When I awoke in that same bed the next
Aged 15, I consumed around 45 units in one night
morning, it was all a big blur.
The only remnant of the night before was the sick in my hair extensions.
‘What the hell were you doing, drinking?’ Mum fumed.
Doctors told me how I’d consumed around 45 units in one night.
Mum had only found out when one of my friends called her to come to the hospital.
I’d been screaming that I wanted everything to stop. But I didn’t remember any of it. ‘I won’t do it again,’ I said. But it was a lie. I tried to get served in pubs, but Mum took my photo to all the locals.
She got me barred before I was even 18.
Mum did everything in her power to get me to quit drinking. Warning me that my life was spiralling out of control.
She didn’t understand I was just having fun.
‘I know what I’m doing,’ I back-chatted her. ‘I can take care of myself.’
But then, aged 16, I got the shock of my life when I learnt I had more than just myself to take care of. ‘I’m pregnant,’ I told Mum. I waited for her to erupt, but her face just looked sad.
‘You need to take care of yourself now,’ she said, giving me a hug. ‘You have a baby to think of.’
I knew what she meant – no more boozing.
‘I promise,’ I said. And this time I really did mean it.
Knowing I had a precious life inside me made me suddenly grow up.
‘I’m going to be the best mummy,’ I vowed.
Freya arrived the day after my 17th birthday, in July 2012.
I hadn’t had a drink in nine months – and I didn’t miss it at all.
Even when Freya screamed all night long, I wouldn’t have swapped my new life for my old one.
At last, I was really happy.
When Freya was 2, I met Oliver.
Ironically, it was down at the local pub.
I was on the orange juice, though!
Oliver was sweet, had a daughter of his own from a previous relationship.
Within months, our friendship blossomed into love.
In June 2016, we had a son, Hunter. Then we welcomed Miller in October 2017.
Yes, having three kids under five was a handful at times.
Constant requests for stories, drinks, squabbles, mess... But I loved every second. Oliver was an incredible hands-on dad, and Mum loved being a nana.
She finds it hard to believe how far I’ve come.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ she often says. I know that Mum is thankful I got out of that dark place. And so am I. If I hadn’t become pregnant, I honestly think that I’d be lying dead in a gutter somewhere.
Becoming a mum genuinely saved my life. My daughter Freya saved me.
When I think about the person I was less than a decade ago, I don’t recognise myself.
I was reliant on the drink, I can see that now.
These days, it’s my lovely family, not booze, that makes me feel whole.
If my life hadn’t changed, I’d be dead in a gutter