Birth Trauma Survivor and Maternal Health Advocate

The Wedding Planner: Part One

“How are you doing?” asked nurse JoAnna.

It was time for her to go home, but I didn’t want her to leave.The surgery was estimated to take two hours, but we were nearing the third. I was still cold, naked and scared. She had worked long past her scheduled shift. A new nurse was taking her place. I don’t like change. She assured me that I would be in good hands and she would be back the next afternoon.

“I’m good. I’m thinking about my wedding. Happy thoughts. I’m thinking about my wedding planner, Christine. Well, she was my wedding planner, but now she is my friend,” I replied.

No one needs a wedding planner—It’s not unheard of to handle all of the details yourself. You could spend your wedding day worrying about the millions of tiny details it takes to make your wedding come full circle. I worry about many things, but I don’t like to worry.

I’m working on it.

You hire a wedding planner because you don’t want your special day to be clouded by the millions of tiny details and because you have the money to do so. You hire a wedding planner because it affords you the luxury of saying, “Call my wedding planner.” “My wedding planner will get back to you. I’m in Europe on business”.

I hired a wedding planner because I needed someone to have the uncomfortable conversations for me.

(I mean, we) decided that we needed someone to help with the wedding day logistics. Who else was going to wrangle eight flower girls, one ring bearer, three groomsmen, three bridesmaids, and one set of parents. Yes, just the one set. I will tell you about that in the future. This is a story about the wedding planner, remember?

I emailed Christine, the owner of Sassy Swanky Affairs (oooh lala!) early on a Saturday morning in September, five months before our wedding. She replied within a few minutes. On a Saturday morning. While she was on location at another wedding. I hired her before we ever spoke on the phone. I am a good judge of character. Her promptness assured me that she was the one. I could tell over a few email exchanges that Christine and I would get along great.

I don’t remember the date or where our first meeting took place. I do remember that Christine brought her business partner and best friend Jen to the meeting. I liked them both immediately. I knew that my (I mean, our) wedding was in good hands with them.

I was handed a pink folder containing the details of Sassy Swanky’s services and price list. I still have this folder and use it often. This pink folder has become a lucky charm of sorts. You will see it someday on this blog.

Christine and Jen are the best kind of friends. One is a Brooklyn girl. One is from Staten Island. Yes, they have the accents. They also have an easiness with one another that comes with being siblings or best friends for your entire life. They finish each other’s sentences. They laugh in unison. Two beautiful and strong women, they seamlessly blend into one.

On that first meeting, we instantly connected. We shared stories about our lives. Jen lost her mother to cancer when she was thirteen. The enemy had taken her mother but not her spirit. Jen was free. I was jealous. I sensed no anger.

I love meeting women like this. They love each other. They love weddings. They love all of the brides and tend to their client’s every care and concern. They were, simply put, genuinely nice women. It is not an act. They were real. I loved them. It felt unnatural to meet women like this. I could really trust them.

We discussed the who’s, the where’s and the what’s. What did I (I mean, we) want? Lots of food and  lots of booze. The theme? Winter Wonderland. I wanted crystals and trees and candles everywhere. I was addicted to watching “Platinum Weddings” and I wanted my bling bling on a budget. My colors? Only one color. White. Yes, all white. The flower girls are wearing white. The bridesmaids are wearing white. The Groom in white? Oh no, he is definitely not wearing white. Black tuxes for the men. The groom looked ridiculous in a white tux.

I have the pictures to prove it.





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