17 years ago

(Before I start, have you ever written an entire, brilliant post, only to accidentally delete it? Remember how perfect the deleted post was? That happened to this one, so remember, this is an inferior copy.)

I woke up, ran to the bathroom, and threw up. Morning sickness. Except I had morning, noon, and night sickness. I went to J.C. Penney, which was the closest store, and I picked out an off-white dress from the clearance rack. I think I spent $24.

I got home, took a bath in the chilly bathroom (no shower), and got dressed. Loki got out of the twin bed we shared (we were in loooovvve! who needed more than a twin?) and got dressed in his best suit.

There was ice and snow on the ground from a a storm, so we drove as quickly as we could without risking our lives. We were late, of course.

The wedding was held at a bar in Durham, CT; Loki's hometown. Our guest list was small: Loki, me, the Justice of the Peace, Loki's father, aunt, grandmother, sister and brother-in-law. I had only met them that summer, and got the distinct impression that they all thought I was going to ruin Loki's life. And I loathed his BIL, who, upon hearing that we were getting married, asked us (loudly) when the baby was due.

We weren't planning to keep the baby at that point, so I had no intention of telling anyone other than Loki that I was pregnant.

I've been to a lot of weddings. The bride and groom always seem nervous, but touched with a giddy excitement as well; Loki and are nervous, but touched with abject terror as well. The one thought that keeps running through my head is not that I'll mess up the vows or faint, but that I am quite possibly making the worst mistake of my life.

I don't remember the particulars. We said our vows, and Loki's dad bought lunch for everyone. I had chicken, which I threw up before we even left the restaurant. Loki and I went back to our apartment to change clothes and pick up the cake. I worked at a restaurant, and the guy we bought cakes from had heard I was getting married and made me a beautiful, one tier hazelnut cake, which turned out to be delicious, which made the cake the best part of the wedding.

We went over to Loki's dad's house for Christmas Eve, and I just about fell over when I saw the presents under the tree - there were so many, we practically couldn't get in the living room. We watched a video of the wedding - yep, the terror in my eyes was captured on tape. Loki and I looked at other, our expressions saying "we'll be taping over this one as soon as possible."

That was our wedding. It had all the hallmarks of disaster - a teenage, pregnant bride (I was 19); neither bride nor groom had a college degree (although Loki now has a BA in English); we had very little money, and very few prospects.

And yet. Somehow, here we are, still mostly happy. He drives me crazy sometimes, because he's never on time for anything, he gets speeding tickets practically every other month, he sometimes starts talking and doesn't stop for literally hours (one time, I made the mistake of asking him what happened on an episode of Star Trek: TNG. It took him longer to tell me what happened than the episode lasted, nearly two hours). He works at night and doesn't get enough sleep, which makes him crabby.

And I'm no picnic. I'm a slob, I have a foul temper, and I'm the worst back-seat driver ever. I spend too much time on the computer, I watch too much TV, I don't always stay on top of everything that's going on.

And yet. We have two beautiful daughters, we have a nice home (even if it is a little sloppy). He makes me laugh, I make him laugh; we like the same movies, we share the same values and political leanings. I don't believe in any of that soulmate crap; I'm sure Loki is just one of the people I could have ended up with happily, but I'm glad that we found each other.

Happy anniversary, Loki.

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