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We’ve talked about problems that can arise with your mother concerning your big day a few times. But maybe we should pause for a minute and think about what she’s going through. A real mother of the bride gives us her point of view on her daughter’s big day and teaches something for both generations.
After 2 years, 4 months and 13 days of “going steady,” Tom finally popped the question. I was so elated, I immediately started planning for the big day. It would be a June wedding. In a church. With calla lilies and 165 well-dressed guests. But just as I was pricing out a sit down dinner of chicken cordon blue, I heard a familiar voice saying, “No. That’s not okay!”
No church. No sit down dinner. No well-dressed guests. In fact, the wedding would be a beach theme in which guests are welcome without shoes or shirts!
Who was this wedding wrecker? None other than my daughter — the bride to be.
Then it hit me. I was the “other woman” in this blessed event. Even though I had been dreaming of this day long before my daughter was even born, it was not my wedding. Or was it?
In the following days, I unashamedly powered through a range of emotions one might compare to the Kubler-Ross grief cycle: the five stages after a personal trauma or loss.
Denial:
“I’m sure she knows that violins and sand don’t mix.”
Anger:
“Isn’t it my day, too? Isn’t my name the one on the equity loan that’s paying for this wedding pig roast?”
Bargaining:
“Give me the church, and I’ll give you casual dress.”
Depression:
“Nobody cares about me or my feelings. Why do people have to get married anyway?”
(And, finally) Acceptance:
“I’m the mom. It’s still my job to teach and set a good example. So, I will resist petty b.s. drama, and do my very best to show my daughter respect, love and rational thought today and always.
So… The wedding was in July, on the beach. Most of the 165 guests wore shoes. We served chicken cordon blue under a tent. My daughter was radiant, smiling, and calm.
I’ll admit, my behavior wasn’t a perfect “10” every day leading up to the wedding. Like the day I cried because Grandma Gloria had a better seat at the lingerie shower than me. And that one lost afternoon at a bridal boutique that served me three glasses of cheap champaign on an empty stomach. But most of the time, we had fun. Yes, we laughed, we cried, we became a part of it.
See, I learned some important things: A wedding really can be a time of joy. Daughters can be right. And, mothers can be okay.
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