Andy proposed on Christmas night of last year, and I've had this amazing rock on my finger for five months. I've had a dress for two months. We say "I do" in six months. It wasn't until we took our engagement photos last weekend and saw the first few pictures that I really felt that glowy, tingly, giggly "we're engaged" feeling. I've felt a lot of the stress that goes along with planning a wedding - worrying where money is going to come from to pay for the dream, pleasing everyone involved, following rules of etiquette, being on the receiving end of countless well-meaning tidbits of advice. But when I saw Jenny Hodges' photographs, and saw with new eyes Andy's and my love for each other from the outside, everything that was off-balance and skewed by stress, worry, and guilt clicked back into balance. I know how it feels to look into Andy's eyes and see him looking back into mine (harder than you'd think when a third party is right there and these kinds of moments up to now were private and just between the two of you) but to see it from the outside was at the same time scary (as a lifelong anti-PDA proponent) and encouraging, to see with my eyes what I've felt inside for eight years. Corny, but true.
I was relieved, after seeing the photos, that we didn't seem overly posed or stiff. Jenny did a fabulous job of capturing us at our most relaxed and natural, taking pictures when Andy and I were laughing at a joke or, more often, at our own awkwardness, or even just having a little chat. I was surprised at the beginning of the shoot that when we were instructed to look into each other's eyes, how hard that was. Eye contact for me is natural when I'm having a conversation, but really difficult when a moment is happening. The vulnerability of that level of exposure is not and never has been easy.
I have this crazy level of self-consciousness that, when it gets deep, eye contact is next to impossible for me. I want to look down, away, anywhere but at that other person. Many times on the day of the engagement pictures, my eyes automatically looked away, over Andy's shoulder, at the foliage around us, at the camera...anywhere but into the eyes of the person I realized was making me twitterpated and nervous and flustered...in a good way. The same good way I felt senior year of high school. Sitting on the bus late one Friday night after playing with the marching band at a football game and Andy asked me to be his prom date, and I squeaked out a nervous "Yes" and stared at my knees. Being in the city to play in a regional honors orchestra concert, walking around the mall and feeling his hand reach over to hold mine for the first time. (I let him hold my hand for two seconds until I thought I'd spontaneously combust and pulled my hand away. The first time he successfully held my hand, we COULDN'T make eye contact because, according the nighttime bus-riding rules of our high school, boys and girls couldn't sit together, so he sat in front of me and we held hands for the first time between the seats. And all God's people said, "Awwww.")
Even the night Andy proposed, after I said yes, I would have sooner died before looking him in the eyes. Getting into the car to drive home moments after he proposed, I sat silently in my own passenger seat, too shaken to drive my own car, staring out the window or the glove compartment in front of me. Andy told me later how uneasy he was for a long time that night after he proposed because I got really quiet. He thought I was having second thoughts or that I didn't like the ring. (He was kind of right about the ring - we were in horrible light and I couldn't see it well, and wasn't too sure about it. Now of course, I LOVE LOVE LOVE it.) Of course I wasn't having second thoughts, though! I was suffering from my "this moment is too intense and I need a hole to crawl into while I recover" disability, and I was also - not kidding - trying not to throw up. I literally became nauseated, it was that intense for me. I had never known how I'd finally react when the moment finally arrived, but I was NOT expecting that, and poor Andy wasn't either!
Realizing all this right now is making me really scared for the wedding day. There is a very real possibility that while either walking down the aisle or standing at the altar, having an Intense Moment that is also a sacred holy moment and a sacrament, in front of a LOT people...I really might pass out, run away, throw up, or some combination of the three. I have not realistically examined this possibility until right now. I don't know why I react this way - it's out of my control. It has nothing to do with doubts or cold feet. It has everything to do with being in the middle of a landmark moment that will never be repeated again, that I've waited for all my life, and here it is. It's the overwhelmed feeling that I've made it to this milestone. I know, I know. You're thinking, "OMG get over yourself, you're not the first and you won't be the last to get married. There are WAY more important things going on the world. Get some perspective." It's incredibly self-centered and ego-maniacal. I hate myself for even spending so much time thinking about something that adds zero benefit or improvement to the world outside of myself. If I put half as much energy into finding something productive to contribute to society as I do worrying about ME, who knows what awesome things could have been accomplished.
Blech. I feel dirty and gross after being so me, me, me. Taking a break to get some perspective back.
