Holding It Together

I held it together all week. Even with a debilitating bout with two kidney stones resulting in a huge delay in all the things that needed to be done.

I held it together Friday night, when Lauren gave a speech that made the whole house misty-eyed. I thought at that moment that I wouldn’t make it through the weekend.

I held it together when Mom choked up while she prayed before our bridesmaids brunch on Saturday morning, as all my best girlfriends in the world piled into my house to get ready and help out with any last minute wedding needs (and believe me, they were put to work).

I held it together when Brian secured my mother’s veil on my head and showed Rachel how to take it off after the ceremony. That’s probably the first time I really got the, “This is it” feeling, the first time I really felt like a bride.

I held it together when I walked into our gorgeous sanctuary, awash with candlelight and decorate with meticulously arranged flowers, when I realized this is it—this is our wedding.

I held it together when Laura started getting weepy in the bridal suite right before we walked down the aisle, as the bridesmaids and my mother wrapped their bouquets with Kleenex. Then I knew this could get emotional very soon.

I held it together as I listened to Dr. Thompson’s emotional charge to Alex and the congregation, as Dad and I stood in the vestibule waiting to walk down the aisle. He set the stage for a holy service of worship, not a prelude to a reception party.

And even when the doors opened and I saw Alex waiting for me at the alter, I managed to hold it together. In fact, tears were the last thing on my mind as I couldn’t contain a grin that mirrored the one on Alex’s face. Just joy. So much joy.

And when my dad gave me away and kissed me on the cheek, I held it together.

During the first dance, the father-daughter dance, the mother-son dance, the cake tasting, and the obligatory Shout!, I held it together. Like a champ. But it’s not hard to hold back the tears when you’re having the absolute best time of your life.

When the sparklers lit up and our friends and family saw us off, I held it together. But barely. I was frantic to find my mom and thank her, to say goodbye to so many of my favorite faces, and goodbye to a night that will live on in our memories for the rest of our lives.

But when I got in the car with my husband. When we realized what we’d just done—that we’d gotten married in the presence of friends and family from all over the world, literally… we couldn’t hold it together anymore. I cried as I called my mom to leave her a voicemail thanking her for all of her hard work and endless hours budgeting, planning, and making all the right phone calls. And all my dad’s tireless work setting up sound equipment and the reception site and the get away car and anything else that falls under Dad Work. I cried as I talked about my family that came all the way from Sweden just for me. For us. To be with us and celebrate with us and just to love us. I cried as I thought about how beautiful my grandparents and grandparents-in-law looked—all of them such radiant pictures of love… people that absolutely glowed with genuine happiness. For us. And I cried because I’ve just never felt so completely overwhelmed by love. Love for my husband and from my husband. Love from and for our families. Love for and from our bridal party, our best friends in all the world. Just… so. much. LOVE. Now that’s the kind of thing that can make a non-crier shed a tear or twenty.

And to start our lives this way… so covered and smothered in love… I just can’t begin to say thank you. But in the next few posts, I’m going to give it my best shot.

Here's the story.

Thursday I had a very, very trying day at school. I subbed for a second grade class that was VERY much aware that summer is around the corner and VERY over the whole school thing. You know what I mean.

After school, I worked at extended day. Extended day ends at 5:30, and our last parent rolled in at 6:00. This particular parent does not make a habit of this and was especially apologetic, so I couldn't be too angry... Except that I was already rocking back and forth with chattering teeth on a May afternoon. Clearly, something was not right.

I had been complaining all week that something just didn't feel right, as a matter of fact.

So when I got home Thursday evening, we pulled out the thermometer. 102. I went to bed around 7:30 and woke up miserable multiple times: 8:50, 10:20, wee hours, 5:40... That's when I knew I needed to call in to school so they could find a substitute sub. By 8:30 Friday morning, I was in the doctor's office with chills, body aches, and fever. All signs pointed to flu, but the flu test was negative. However, sometimes flu-like symptoms are indicative of early pneumonia. We did a few chest X-rays and thought we had our diagnosis. The nurse gave me a most unpleasant shot and sent me home with a round of antibiotics and hope that I would be at least "90% better by Monday."

Friday night was another miserable night of sleep. I woke up at paced the house around 6 on Saturday morning, popped a few Advil for my still triple digit fever, and went back to bed. Around 8, the fever broke up. For those of you not in the know, that means you wake up in a pool of sweat. It's really, really gross, and other than the relief from fever, just makes you feel that much worse just for being disgusting.

I showered, still had to change clothes a few times because of fever-breakage-sweat, but was still determined to make a quick trip to Huntsville with Mom for a few last minute wedding things. First I tried going to Target with her, but I soon realized my energy was too zapped so I ended up in the car with the windows rolled down. Next up: Bed, Bath, & Beyond. This trip went a little smoother, and I was able to eat a sandwich at Firehouse next. At this point, I'm beginning to think I'm on the up-and-up.

Next stop: Hobby Lobby. So far, so good, but the fatigue was beginning to set in. So when Mom made her last stop at Wal-Mart in Jones Valley, I stayed in the car again.

And that's where it all started... Out of nowhere, I got a shooting pain in my back. I thought it was just a muscle spasm, so I tried to stretch it out. By the time Mom made it back to the car, I had the seat laid back, writhing around. We made it about 20 minutes towards Guntersville before I had to have her pull the car over, sure I was going to vomit. That's when we decided to go to the ER.

At the ER, they IV'd me, pumped me full of fluid and meds, and did a CT, X-ray, and urinalysis. This time, all signs pointed toward kidney stone. However, the radiologist did not see a kidney stone in my CT, so we assumed I had passed it there in the ER. So more antibiotics and I was on my way home.

Sunday, I woke up with a fever again, but handled it with Advil and long, hot shower. I met Mom and Dad for lunch, did some organizing and unpacking at mine and Alex's house, and then came back home for bed. I didn't feel 100% better, but I was definitely on the mend.

This morning, I woke up at 8 with searing pain in my lower back again. I called Mom, and she decided to consult with the ER doctor on staff today. He pulled my charts from Saturday, checked my CT, and saw not one but two stones there. He called up the radiologist, and sure enough, he'd missed it on Saturday.

So today, I'm back in bed, working on a kidney stone and thinking about how this could really put a damper on our honeymoon if my kidneys don't get it together stat. Because our wedding is Saturday. Like, this Saturday. A couple of days from today. The same today that has me in bed with searing pain and daytime television.

So lift up a prayer or two. Or twenty.