It’s hard to believe that my ‘first lived’ son will be getting married in less than a week. I prayed for this day to come because he has been waiting for a long time. I listened to him for years lament the fact that he can’t seem to meet anyone he thinks he could spend the rest of his life with.
Then I saw the surprising “I’m in a relationship” announcement on Facebook. Under normal circumstance, as a mother I would feel hurt that I wasn’t the first one to know. However, knowing my son the way I do, I figured it was real and in time he would broach the subject with me.
Then it came. Mostly in the form of we are getting married. But before I could ask, he explained he had known her since college and they wanted to take their friendship to the next level.
But less about them and more about me. Afterall I’m the mother of the groom. Just kidding.
I Don’t Know What To Wear
Fortunately or unfortunately I haven’t been to a wedding in probaby 30 years. It’s not that I haven’t been invited. I’m just not that into them. They bring out my own feelings of inadequacy. There I said it. So when I get invited, something always comes up and I never go. But I’m going to this one. But what do I wear?
Believe it or not, I’ve been looking but I must admit, I had to ask a few questions and research what Clinton would recommend. The wedding is a week away and I still don’t have a dress. But am I panicking. Yes!
I Haven’t Met the Bride
This is definitely the worst of the three. I wish I knew her. Wish I’d met her before. But due to some weird circumstances, I still haven’t met her in person. And maybe that should alarm me but it doesn’t. I trust my son to chose who he wants to spend the rest of his life with. I know first hand what it’s like to have people interfere and try to influence my life decisions. And I also know from experience, that when things hit the fan, you cannot depend on those people to help you through the mess. So as I replied to someone when he asked if I approved of my son’s choice… I trust my son to chose his own life mate. I would never impose my opinion on him. Besides, It’s too late for that.
I’m Not Happy
Ok. So this is a weird one. Each time I mentioned to someone that my son is getting married. I’m asked, “are you happy”? At first, I found the question a bit strange because I thought, “I’m not getting married”. But after being asked that several times I realize I should be happy. Happy my son has finally found someone he thinks is good enough for him… Boy, I don’t even want to explain that one. But also that he thinks makes him the luckiest man alive.
But, I’m very happy to know that even though 35 years ago I stood over his basinet in MacMaster Hospital and wept as the doctor told us that they couldn’t do anything more for him, we are here…now. I despaired because had said we had the option to distcontine use of his ventilator. What a miracle, we didn’t cave to fear.
You see, I had my son when I was 23 weeks pregnant. He was my second. (The first one didn’t survive). He weighed one pound two and a half ounces (33 g) and went down to thirteen ounces. But in just one week he is getting married.
Do I care about the dress? Maybe.
Do I wish I had met the bride before. Unequivocally, yes.
Am I happy? You betcha!
And to God be the glory, always.