I always get a little weepy at weddings.
Sure, the moment when a father gently presses his daughter’s hand into his son-in-law’s always tugs at the ol’ heartstrings and of course, catching the groom’s choking back tears when he sees his beautiful bride for the first time always gets to me, but I confess that my own slight twinge of sadness stems from a much more selfish reason.
It’s because I was pregnant at my own wedding.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I have a wonderful marriage and we had a beautiful wedding. Quite honestly, it was everything I could have ever asked for in a wedding when it comes to the actual girly details that I may have once dreamed about. I actually liked my dress, the church was beautiful, a family friend provided fresh (free) roses for decorations, and I had–joy of joys–not one, but two overflowing chocolate fountains next to a cake and desert table that once again, someone gave us as a gift.
I’m sorry, but chocolate fountains at your wedding = awesome.
And although every part of me is incredibly grateful and thankful for the wedding we had, and every part of me logically knows that a marriage is not about one day, there is still another teensy, tiny part of me that can’t help but be a little sad at every wedding I attend.
Because I can’t help but compare it to my own.
The truth is, I bought the first dress I tried on, complete with a fake pillow pregnant belly, simply because I was too exhausted to try on any more.
The truth is, my mother and mother-in-law pretty much planned our entire wedding because I was literally too busy puking to have the energy to do it.
The truth is, my wedding dress busted down the seams hours before I walked down the aisle, because I popped overnight.
I know, I know, what you’re thinking–well, that’s your fault for having sex in the first place, Chaunie! And yes, guilty as charged. I had sex with the man I loved before we married and yes, I unintentionally also got pregnant. Make out of that what you will.
But in the off chance that there is anything out there like me, who can’t help but get a little wistful when she sees a perfectly toned, glowing-not-because-she-is-pregnant-but-because-she-is-tan bride floating down the aisle to the man of her dreams and in to a future that will mimic the “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby carriage” that we all thought our life would be…
Know that you are not alone. And it’s ok.
And know that if, like me, you happen to feel your baby start kicking the night before you marry the man of your dreams, and if like me, you can’t imagine your life being any different,
It’s also ok.
And it’s also ok if you decide that you too, deserve two chocolate fountains at your wedding as well.
I mean, you’re eating for two, anyways, right?