So I got married on Saturday. And just as I thought, I feel exactly the same as when I was single. Molecules inside me didn’t immediately realign and cause a huge cataclysmic shift in my essence where I suddenly began feeling married and smug. (Perhaps that comes later)
Truthfully, I had already committed to Eddie months before. I began feeling tethered, secure, and fulfilled long before we said, “I do.” I didn’t need a ceremony to make that mental shift. But I now realize that the marriage ceremony isn’t really the commitment– it’s just the celebration of the commitment in front of family and friends.
As we were going through the process of planning and organizing the wedding, I started to get the feeling that it was a silly exercise that was taking up too much time and energy. But now with it behind me, I can say that I am really happy we had a ceremony and reception. It was absolutely worth it and I enjoyed and loved every second of it.
The really nice part of the whole wedding extravaganza is realizing you aren’t alone. There are people who care. Looking out over all the attendees, I felt loved and cared about… it was nice.
We honeymooned in Cape May for four days. I spent most of the time just looking at Eddie and thinking to myself, “You are married– this is your husband!” Somehow it still seems almost surreal to me. I have a feeling everything is rather surreal when you are pregnant– I mean, I look down and watch my stomach move, shake, and quiver. I see the outline of a foot or hand push up and move right across my belly. How weird is that?
Check out this excerpt from a post I wrote back in 2004:
The cause I would take as my platform if I was suddenly crowned Miss America or somehow found myself First Lady is ending the systematic genital mutilation of newborn males. If I ever marry and multiply, there is no way on this green earth I will let any doctor touch my son’s Zauberstuecke. Of course, I have no interest in having sons, I would much prefer daughters. Hopefully, in 30 years when I am ready for children, it will be possible to choose their sex.
Clearly this is something I’ve felt passionately about for YEARS. I am holding on strong that I won’t have to submit Jimmie to systematic genital mutilation.
We shall see.
I have submitted to so much over the last few months.
- I never wanted a blood diamond– but I am wearing one on my finger now.
- Never wanted to wear a white wedding gown– yet somehow my gown is white.
- Never ever thought I’d get married with a huge baby bump, I mean, c’mon… how tacky! Yet, I am getting married 7 months pregnant.
- Never thought I’d be living in NJ with their exorbitant property tax… and here I sit soon to change my residence and support the beast.
- Never thought I’d live with a man unless I was married to him.. and yes, I know that the wedding is just 8 days away but still…
- AND I am living in a house that isn’t mine… not being in control, that’s against my core principles.
The funny part is, I don’t mind any of it. Except the potential genital mutilation of my son’s Zauberstuecke.
The Rivers Rockabilly Trio will be performing at my wedding. Stu asked me what song would I like them to play during the recessional. I replied, “I Knew the Bride When She Used to Rock n Roll”
Well, I think it’s a hoot. Not sure if everyone else will agree.
Wedding is coming up quickly… less than 3 weeks. Lots of shit hitting the fan. Family members cancelling last minute. Forgetting to include other ones. Other stuff I don’t even want to think about.
I guess it’s all normal.
When anyone says anything, I just reply, “Look, I’m pregnant, trying to plan a wedding, trying to sell two houses, trying to buy a new house… all while running and growing a business. Cut me a break.”
Just found out the other day that babies actually require feeding through the night. I honestly thought they ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner like regular people. With that said, I realize I clearly need to take some baby care classes.
What haven’t I blogged about… since I rarely blog anymore… Turned 39. Moved out of the Donnavilla. Living in New Jersey with my fiancee. My fiancee! After having spent decades identifying myself as a singleton/spinster/old maid, the thought of actually getting married is more strange than exciting. I find myself living a domesticated life. I make a healthy dinner for four that does not consist of a pickle, some triscuits and a beer. Sitting down to eat with Eddie and his two daughters, I think, “How the hell did I get here?”
It was less than a year ago that I was dating douche bags and trying to numb the feelings of sadness and loneliness that encompassed me by drinking 3 Buck Chuck and watching the same La Femme Nikita episodes over and over again.
And now I have a baby growing inside of me. And everyone seems to delight in telling me horrible things like:
- You will shit while pushing the baby out.
- A yellow pus-like liquid will come out of your breasts before the milk comes
- Your breasts will get really hard and lumpy and sore from the baby suckling
- The baby will have explosive shits that go up the back and into his hair
- By not circumcising him, you’ll have to clean shit out of his foreskin
- The baby will piss all over you… ALOT
- Uncircumcised penises are prone to major infections and you might as well just cut off his penis and call him Betty.
I have to assume that there are some good things that happen too. Otherwise our race would have died out a long time ago, right?
I remain positive. I have no clue how I am going to do it but I will do it. I think it will be great. And quite honestly, I am ready for it. Shit and all.