Weddingbee Blog

I was nervous. Oh, so nervous.

After my hair was done,

my makeup was on,

I’d chosen jewelry,

sent a few last minute messages,

and grabbed my flowers,

it was time.

Nine months of angst and soul-searching since he asked me to marry him, two years after I met him at a bar, and finally coming to terms with my past and the whole purpose of this wedding thing, it was time.

“Four minutes,” she said. I thought I might vomit.

Photo by my father

“The men are down there,” he assured me. I regretted not taking a potty break.

Photo by my father

“The music’s playing,” she said. I wanted to pass out.

“We’re off. We love you,” they told me, just before smiling and heading down the hill – together, simply because I asked. My stomach was in my throat.

“Can we go now? It’s time for the flower petals!” I kissed my niece and sister and sent them on their way. My hands were shaking.

Suddenly, the decision to walk myself down the aisle didn’t seem like such a great idea. Sure, the symbolism was clear, but I hadn’t anticipated not being able to move.

I prayed. “Dear God, I can’t do this. I don’t think I’m up to it. I can’t be a great wife and a great person and everything this marriage deserves. And all of these people… they’ve worked so hard, spent so much money, been so amazing. How am I worth all of this? I don’t think I can do this.”

I was going to cry. And then, I heard the first few bars of my favorite song. “Sweet Pea, Apple of my eye…”

Played by my talented and supportive little brother, that song makes me smile, every time. I call my husband, my cat, and any adorable little kid, “sweet pea.”

And that was it. That was my moment. My happy song, my people waiting, my almost-husband at the end of the trek, and I was standing alone with myself. If all of these people had faith in me, then so would I. So I took a deep breath, and I took a step.

And then another.

And then another.

And I was there. It was time.

Photo by my father.

Next up: our ceremony.

All photography by Angela Herzog of Angela Herzog Photography (www.angelaherzogphotography.com) unless otherwise noted. Asterisks (*) indicate that post-processing was done by me, and thus, should not be held against her. See this post for more details.

Late to the party? See previous recaps here:

Part I: And It Begins
Part II: My People, Part I