My husband proposed on a late October night while we sitting in our apartment. He was giving me a guitar lesson and I took a moment to pause, and comment on how small my hands were. “You know…my fingers are actually smaller than you’d guess. I have pretty thin fingers…” This was normal behaviour for me at that time, since we’d been talking marriage in the months leading up to that night.
Except this night he put his hand in his pocket and said ,”Maybe I have a ring that will fit you?” and presented me with a gorgeous family heirloom. It was perfect and I promised myself, and him, that I would be a calm and down-to-earth bride.
Let’s just say, that didn’t happen.
I spent HOURS each day cruising my favourite wedding websites, with literally no idea as to how this day would all come together.
I couldn’t wade through all the information and choices out there because there was just so much out there and I wanted it ALL. My husband had no interest in talking about all of this and I spent way too much time second guessing my choices and ideas.
We had supper one night with my mom and spent the whole time discussing the wedding.
At the end of the night she said to me, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he calls the whole thing off.” I felt crushed.
I felt totally misunderstood, like nobody cared or wanted to support me as I took on the planning and execution of this huge event.
I didn’t want a cookie-cutter wedding where I just let the venue take care of all the details. I wanted to be present, be involved, and have a really intimate and unique way to celebrate my one-of-a-kind relationship.
And I desperately wanted someone to look me in the eye and say “I get it. I understand what you need and I’m here for you. Let’s figure this out together.”
Instead, I fumbled through on my own and asked wayyy too much of the people in my life. My sister and friend picked up a lot of the slack and ran around arranging things for me. My mother and step mother worked themselves to the bone the day before and day of the wedding. But, most of the time I was feeling pretty out of control and had almost zero time to sit back with my future husband and say “Hey, isn’t it cool that we’re about to do something so awesome together?!”
On the day of my wedding I spent the morning dragging tables around, setting up flowers and swearing at people. I counted cash to pay people at the end of the night and I prepped food for the appetizers. Then, when guests arrived I got ready, and stood, alone, in the room watching the beginning of my wedding unfold.
At the end of the night and in the weeks that followed, everyone had amazing things to say about the wedding. It was authentic, it was a great party, it was intimate and it was exactly US.
But if I’d had a doula when I got married:
- She could have helped me sort through the ideas and choices out there and helped me understand my options and path for the next few months.
- She could have been there as I worked through my stress and anxiety about the upcoming event. She wouldn’t have judged my choices or scoffed at the things she didn’t agree with, instead she’d have supported me each step of the way.
- On the day of, she could have been helping me get ready, taking care of the little details like arranging flowers, moving placecards and would have been there at the end of the night to give me a huge hug and congratulate me on how awesome it all turned out.
Going through all the emotional ups and downs, the planning and preparing, and the hard work was worth it. Luckily I’ve been happily married for almost 7 years now and never have to do that again! But, if I did- I’d definitely get a wedding doula.
