Weddingbee Blog

I can’t explain why I was so irrationally nervous to walk down the aisle. Like, dreading it nervous. Descending quickly into stomach-swirling nausea nervous. I wasn’t nervous to marry him—no, no, nothing like that. And yes, I knew that the room was filled with people I love—why be nervous? Cognitively, I knew these things, but my nervous system short-circuited anyway.

Here is a good idea of what not to think about as you wait behind the wide, wooden doors: how nervous you are. Doesn’t help. Though I don’t know what you are supposed to be thinking about the moment before you walk down the aisle to be married. The immensity of what you are doing, I suppose, or the hugeness of love in the place where you stand.

I’ve always thought that having a parent or both parents walk you down the aisle was done in the tradition of the bride being passed from one family from another. Now, I think it might be because you (or in this case, um, me) are so nervous about being stared at by so many people that your stomach is clenching. Your stomach is clenching the way it sometimes did when you were little, in the moments before you knew that barfing was imminent. Then you would run to the bathroom, prostrate yourself in front of the cold porcelain and, bracing for the worst, scream: MOMMM!!! DAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!

…Hm.

That was a truly revolting thing to say about this part of our wedding. I guess what I mean is: there’s a feeling leftover from childhood, like nothing truly bad could ever happen if a parent is right beside you.

So, there I was…standing with my dad and therefore feeling reasonably confident that no ill would befall me. I begged him not to say anything sentimental to me because, with the barrage of health issues he’d just gone through, I would have absolutely wilted. Instead, he made me laugh. He often makes me laugh.

Cue music:

And for some reason, as my bridesmaids disappeared from my view, processing down the aisle, all I could think about was my father’s wedding ring. I know a lot of men choose not to wear their wedding rings, for whatever reason, but I love that my father has always worn his. It is simple—gold with little milgrain edges that have worn down with time, and it has been on his hand my whole life. Without ever making a point of looking at it, I’ve seen it thousands upon thousands of times. Even now, I can see it so clearly in my mind.

I thought about my parents on their wedding day. My mother was even younger than me, and I wondered if she felt the way I did then, nervous and unwilling to have hundreds of eyes on her. I thought about their marriage. About how my mom’s smiling face is the background of my dad’s cell phone. About how much I admire them for still having fun together. I thought about how much I want to be like them, in marriage and in life. How much I am trying to be.

And then, it was almost my turn, so I thought about not tripping. I prayed an ardent thank you for the man I was about to wed, and then, God as my witness, I prayed to not barf.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

Photography- Katie Albrecht of Blink of an Eye

Old Episodes

• A Prairie Dog Companion I: Reader, I Married Him
• A Prairie Dog Companion II: So It Begins
• A Prairie Dog Companion III: Pictures of You
• A Prairie Dog Companion IV: What We Wore
• A Prairie Dog Companion V: Church by Daylight