Two Brides, One Wedding

(I literally wrote–and then deleted–this post, thinking it’d be better if I just told you all a happy story about how perfect our wedding was and shared all of the photos, in true Insta-blogger style. But no, that’s not who I am–and that isn’t why I started this blog. So, here ya go.)

It’s kind of strange to me that, though I’ve been blogging about every possible aspect of our lives for nearly three years, I’ve never talked about our wedding day–or shared any of the photos.

I’m not really sure why that is,  really, but since our 6 year wedding anniversary is on Saturday, I thought it was a good time to break the I-have-kind-of-weird-feelings-about-our-wedding ice.

Here’s the truth: I can’t imagine our wedding having gone more perfectly. Even though Sona and I are quick to tell folks that, if given the chance for a do-over, we would have taken the money we spent on our wedding and traveled instead, I can still say that the day went off exactly as we’d hoped. And our friends and family always tell us that our wedding was one of the best they’ve ever been to.

Here’s also the truth: When I think back on our wedding, it causes me a bit of uneasiness–maybe even sadness. That has nothing to do with who I married and everything to do with how our wedding came to be.

This is something I’ve never really talked about before, but I have to believe that we’re not the only same-sex couple who have felt similarly. So, before I get to the oh-my-gosh-we-had-cotton-candy part of the post, I’ll start here: having a wedding as a same-sex couple is fraught with all sorts of emotions that, I think, are the product of constantly being reminded that you are different.

I also want to say that I’m not telling this story to shame any of our friends or family members. We have a wonderful support system, and our relationships with our families, especially, have really evolved over the years. We also have friends–and some family members–who have always supported us whole-heartedly. This is not about any of them, though. This is about what it is like to experience relationship milestones as a couple that isn’t hetero-normative, and it’s important to me that I tell the story.

Sona and I had been together for 11 years when we were married on June 2, 2012; we’d been engaged since 2006. That’s a long engagement, I know, but the reality is that our engagement, though meaningful to us, had absolutely no resonance with anyone we cared about. NONE. Our families didn’t even acknowledge it, unless we literally forced them to talk about it. Even then, the whole thing was treated as some sort of shameful secret. There were no engagement parties. No one excitedly asked us when our wedding date was. No moms clamored to take us dress shopping. It was a non-event.

In contrast, I starkly remember how, when a cousin of mine was engaged a few years later, the family celebrated with gusto. My mother excitedly exclaimed that she wanted to take the bride-to-be dress shopping. I locked myself in the bathroom of my uncle’s house and sobbed.

So, for many years, Sona and I internalized the shame over our engagement and, also, did nothing. We never really talked about a wedding. (Gay marriage wasn’t legalized then, anyway.) We remained, dutifully and somberly, silent. All the while, we watched friends and family members–many of whom had been in relationships significantly shorter than our own–get celebrated, applauded, showered, and, ultimately, married.

Each time we tried to broach the subject of a wedding with family members, the subject of the conversation suddenly changed. We were told, many times, that if we had a wedding, key members of our family wouldn’t even attend. It was always a battle, and we didn’t always have the energy to fight it.

Then, something changed. I don’t even know what, exactly, other than our own anger and resentment (and hurt, mostly) reached a fever-pitch. I remember the exact moment so precisely. We were standing in the kitchen of our Chicago garden apartment, Sona washing dishes. Civil unions had just been legalized in Illinois. So, we knew that, at least legally, our nuptials would be validated.

“If we don’t make them face it, they will never acknowledge it. They have to actually see it. They have to be forced to watch.” That’s what we said, and that’s the ball that got our wedding plans rolling. Our wedding day wasn’t forged in love and excitement and a common, convivial spirit.  It was forged in anger and resentment and pain. And that’s just the truth.

So, we set a date. We picked a venue. We told everyone it was coming like a hurricane brewing in the distance, giving ample warning, hoping they’d have time to prepare for the storm.

The planning part was pretty fun, and there were definitely moments when we morphed into the typical brides-to-be, fretting over cupcake flavors and floral arrangements. But in reality, there was always a grey cloud following our wedding date around, and we just couldn’t escape its shadow. There was always awkwardness and unease, even though people did their best to pretend otherwise.

As a result, Sona and I planned our wedding almost entirely on our own. All of the things you typically associate with the year preceding a wedding–showers, bachelorette parties, afternoons spent dress shopping and sipping champagne–didn’t materialize for us.

Still, with more than a year’s notice, our family rallied. By the time our wedding day approached, everyone had acquiesced. They did their best, and they came with bells on. They celebrated us and expressed their love and, in some cases, explicitly apologized for having taken so long to come around. There was some healing that happened–and a lot of celebrating.

This is all to say that I haven’t shared our wedding photos because I haven’t actually looked at them in years. Looking at them today, as I sorted through them for this post, I realize that a lot of the pain and anger has subsided.  Today, I can focus more on who I got to marry and not how our wedding day formed.

And despite it all, our experience of our actual wedding day was pretty dang fabulous. It was fun and easy and not-so-serious, which is exactly what we wanted.

In the moments when Sona and I were able to focus on just one another–our first look, rehearsing the vows we’d written in the basement of our venue just before the ceremony, our first dance–we were able to  bliss-out on how much we love each other. Those are my favorite memories from our day, and they were perfect.

This absolutely isn’t the blog post I expected to write when I thought, “On the occasion of our anniversary, I should blog about our wedding!” Even still, I think it’s important for us to say these things–and in doing so, to validate any other same-sex couples who have likely experienced similarly complex, less-than-perfect feelings about their own milestones.

So, while Sona and I celebrate our wedding anniversary (we’re doing mini golf and burgers on Saturday–woot!), it doesn’t hold as special a place for us as the anniversary of when we started dating. We’ve been together, now, for 17.5 years and married for 6 of those. And while I’m not sure we would do our wedding over again, if given the chance, I would do this marriage again in an instant. I’d choose Sona again and again and again, even though marriage is hard, and our relationship is (very) far from perfect.

******************************************************************************************

Phew, who is ready for some photos? Here are a TON from our day, which despite this long, kind of depressing backstory, we did enjoy.

We were married a year and a day after the state of Illinois legalized civil unions. Exactly one year later, Obama legalized gay marriage, and we went to the courthouse for an “upgrade.” Those things, alone, were worthy of a celebration!

As a wedding photog, I’m always trying to convince couples to do a first look. Our own first look, which we did after reading letters we’d written to each other, was probably my single favorite moment of the entire day. And I cried. Of course.

 

We both had our dresses custom-made. It was kind of last-minute, and I’m not sure we’d do it again, but we wanted dresses that were less formal and more tea party, and there just weren’t many plus-size options out there. (There’s a lot more good options, now!)

Of course, I live-tweeted my own wedding. You aren’t surprised, are you?

DAY-UM.

Our wedding was Hind-Jew. We had a rabbi officiate and integrated customs from both cultures, including a ketubah signing.

I loved how intimate our wedding was. It was a small-ish space, and we only had around 70 guests. Our close friends and family members stood around us for the ketubah signing and for the ceremony, and that was pretty special.

I’m not testifying. I’m trying to get through my vows without losing it.

Our wedding decor, with the help of the AMAZING Jayne Weddings, was all bunnies and pink flowers and whimsy, girly things.

          

We danced to “First Day of My Life” by Bright Eyes. I still can’t hear that song without crying. If you’ve never seen that music video, stop everything you’re doing and watch it NOW!