My big fat jewish wedding

In defense of inviting the whole village

📸 Brett Matthews, Hechler Photographers, or my beautiful sister in law Megan

This is by far the biggest adult decision I’ve ever made and I did it in front of 207 people. My wedding was maybe the best weekend of my life. Would I go through the year+ of planning again or would I recommend it? I’m not sure. While it’s fresh I thought I’d share some thoughts and hot takes on a big ass wedding.

I grew up around cousins, 1st, 2nd, 3rd. I grew up close to aunts and uncles and grandparents, always surrounded by my huge family. Everyone shows up for everything. Even though small weddings are in, I always knew I was going to have a big one. I wanted to see my best friend from childhood in the same room as Matt's cousins. I wanted my nephew to stumble down the aisle in a little tux. I wanted the whole village there, everyone who shaped us into the people we are now. 

There is something about it. The rituals, traditions, anticipation, the deep knowing that as much as it is about you, the couple, it’s also about everyone else. A mishmash of the people who have known you intimately at different points in your life, and the people who barely know you at all. 

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But planning a big wedding can have its dark sides too… About 3 months before the big day I started to notice a sinking feeling in my stomach. 

This was not what I thought it would feel like.

Everything was too much pressure and too much money and too many endless tasks.

I was not counting down the days like I’d seen other brides doing. I was not excited to receive the, “it’s SO close” messages from friends and family and I didn’t know why. I was losing the connection to myself and I was embarrassed. I questioned everything… Is it me? Is it him? What if 10 years from now we want different things? Am I actually gay and now I won't be able to explore that? Am I too young for this? Is the sex good enough? Often enough? Why do I feel this way when it seems like no one else does? These are questions I didn’t hear anyone else asking.

I believe the technical term for this kind of reaction is cold feet.

And then, like most things, all it takes is a few open conversations to start to unwind the tightness we work ourselves into. This, I realized, is why I want to marry Matt in the first place… he is someone who can sit through difficult moments and complicated emotions, who is devoted to figuring it out no matter what. I am impulsive and erratic. This is good for some things, but not an existential crisis.

I started to feel better, calmer. Not all the way, but little by little my nervousness faded and became something like a scar. A reminder that I was taking this seriously and that I cared about the longevity of our relationship, not just the frills of a big wedding. In the same way doubt, questions, and confusion can make you crazy, they can also make you more certain than ever.

It’s the night before the wedding and the show begins. We were in it now.

Right in the middle of all of it… the people the food the drinks the energy the MAGICIAN. Laughing as Grandma Flo says, “are you ready for the biggest day of your life?” It feels like being on a wave where the water is coming right up to your chin. The peak of fun. You know you can still breathe but in some moments it’s coming up a little close to your mouth. 

Matt and I are the belle of the ball and everything is crazy. Our mouths frozen into wide open smiles. We keep meeting each other's eyes acknowledging the shared craziness. It’s flying by and I can’t stop it. It feels familiar– kind of like mourning a vacation on the first day. 

Everyone put so much effort to be there and do their part. The traveling, the mingling, the time it took to write speeches– it’s beautiful. This is when all the planning becomes worth it in what feels like a split second of ecstasy. All of the pressure disappears and I feel so grateful to be in this container full of people, all here for the most joyous occasion. A container that will literally never exist in the same way again. These people, this place. It is once in a lifetime. 

The big day. I woke up, doll eyes snapping open, stretching my arms out wide like I was in a movie. I put on Ben Platt’s new album. My dad brought me a cup of coffee. I cried immediately when I saw him. Aunt Deb came to my room and said, “did I wake you?” even though I was fully showered. 

I’m trying to remember every single little detail. To slow down time on the fastest day of my life.

I feel so much warmth in knowing I am totally ready to get married. I feel so sure about myself… all the heaviness I had months ago washed away to leave a beautiful fresh feeling. A light feeling. I know that I’m making a decision that I feel certain is right in this moment. That's the best you can do with any decision, especially the really adult ones. Choose to do the thing you have conviction about— that settles your stomach and warms your cold feet. 

That day I had a full plate of chick-fil-a nuggets while I was getting my hair done. I made shitty sketches of Cody and my cousins and sisters. 

Then I blinked and just like that I was a BRIDE.

It was time to see Matt. We took a million pictures in the NYC streets, everyone honking and congratulating us. I’ve never loved cab drivers more than in those 45 minutes. Dot came for some pictures too, happy and confused as usual.

After that, the moments started to blur. I’d practiced my vows so many times, but I almost can’t remember saying them at all… Thats the gift and the curse of being totally present. Your brain can only process so much heightened emotion at once.

The thing about a wedding is that you spend so much time imagining specific moments that the memories that actually stick with you are not the ones you think. The things that still burn in my mind are the unexpected, unplanned for, and un-thought about.

The moment alone I had with my parents right before I walked down the aisle— all three of us shaking our heads in disbelief this was actually happening. How adorable my Aunt looked as a flower girl, catching her eye and giggling together. I remember the first ever truly genuine conversation we had with Uncle Andy, the moment I finally met Matts college friend Tom, Cece catching the bouquet, the way Cody’s voice sounded singing our first dance. I remember the speeches from our siblings and parents— the people who know us more uniquely than anyone. And I remember how privileged I felt to be able to work with Sara and everyone working who made it all possible.

More than anything, I remember the feeling of the village. The warmth in the room that pulsated around us, and the deep gratitude I felt for being able to experience this kind of overflowing love.