This post originally appeared on our old blog Born to be a Bride.
It’s no secret that I knew I wanted to marry Josh from the start. I’m not quite sure when it clicked for him, but we took our time getting there. We fell in love in Manhattan and moved to Brooklyn. We fell apart and came back together. We got engaged on a beach at sunset and then we moved to Dallas and eventually DC. Together, we’ve ridden this love train for over five years and it’s been an incredible adventure.
This time last year, I was waiting not-so-patiently in my hotel room for my brother Jacob to bring me my coffee and some eggs. I was showering, arranging items to bring to the bridal suite. I was penning my beloved a letter that would be delivered to him later in the day. Soon, I’d be coiffed and made up, champagned, powdered and poofed, and led to the pier where we’d see each other for the “first” time. What an emotional and beautiful set of memories to cherish.
People often ask me — what’s the big deal about weddings? It’s just a day. It’s just a party. Sure, that’s true. But for me our wedding was so much more than that. It was a pause button I got to press on daily life. A precious set of moments I got to string together, to tell Josh before God (he doesn’t believe, I do, and that’s cool), and all our family and close friends, that I would love him and be only his forever. It was a chance to look into his eyes with no agenda other than promising ourselves to each other, and marking the start of a future on which we’d embark as an official family.
A year later, I’m carrying a bit more weight than I was that day (thanks, Baby G!). It’s humid in DC and the anniversary falls on a Sunday, so we’ve opted for brunch instead of dinner. I’ve stuffed my seven-and-a-half-months pregnant feet into my beautiful wedding shoes, a tradition borrowed from a Dallas friend that I hope to continue ad infinitum. I slipped into a white silky dress with a floral pattern because everything pure white that I tried on looked bizarre. I might not feel as pretty or as special as I did this time last year when I took one last look in the mirror before heading out to meet him, but I felt the same way when he came home bearing Starbucks and a card this morning that I did when we met at the pier.
My handsome husband has given me a year of emotional support I never could have expected (and frankly, wish I hadn’t needed). He saw me through some scary medical shit and led me out of it, punctuating the whole drama with the best gift anyone has given me — a baby girl. As we spend our anniversary together without the trappings of a dramatic celebration, I’ll relish the simplicity and beauty of this moment. For, just like our wedding day, this one counts. And there are many more to come.