I live in Melbourne, Australia, and my partner, Cece, moved from Texas to be with me after a year of dating long-distance. However, some of the challenges of long-distance relationships don’t end, even when one partner moves countries. Separated from friends and family, it was difficult for Cece to adjust, but she settled into her new role as stepmother and partner, and in 2019, after being together for five years, I proposed to her.
Shortly after getting engaged, we got to work planning a wedding that would be a celebration uniting our Texan and Aussie families for the first time in San Antonio, Texas, in October 2020. Or so we thought . Australia closed its borders to the world on March 19, 2020, and we stayed cocooned in our hermetically sealed country.
Initially, we thought this would only last for a few weeks and all would be cleared to reunite in time for our October wedding. But the months slowly ticked by in strict lockdown, and that hope began to fade. Every government update was negative, with borders set to be closed indefinitely.
Facing heavy financial penalties if we waited too long to make a decision, we had to make the tough decision to postpone our wedding . It was hard to tell our friends and family, but they understood the decision and supported us, sending us messages like, “This way, you’ll have more time to plan,” and, “It’s not that far away. ” We tried to stay positive and set a new date: September 2021.
With the development of vaccines, hope was high for a 2021 wedding. We rebooked airfares, venues, caterers, and the band and printed new invitations. But Australia was slow to roll out vaccines, and our borders remained closed.
We watched as people across the United States regained their freedoms while we stayed in exile. I felt like a grounded teenager, watching my friends party on social media from my room. Each day we hoped for news of our release, but instead, Melbourne earned the title of the world’s longest lockdown : 262 days.
It was déjà vu, and we were forced to cancel again. This time felt worse — not only was our wedding delayed again, but Cece hadn’t seen her family the entire pandemic, and she was feeling isolated away from her loved ones. I was feeling guilty, as I was the sole reason she was separated from her family.
This time when we broke the news, we both cried as the messages of reassurance came in again. “It’s better to be safe than sorry,” and, “Think of how much more fun it will be when we celebrate together,” came the texts and emails. While their intentions were to help, they provided little comfort.
The new date was now April 2022. We kept our fingers crossed. The printer saw me come in again.
“Sorry to see you back, mate,” they said. You know things are going badly when a wedding printer offers you commiseration instead of congratulations. We hoped the third time would be the lucky charm and began the process of rebooking, rescheduling, and replanning.
By this point, we were experts at it. But like the villain in the horror movie that never dies, the villain in our wedding story wouldn’t give up. There was a scary new mutation — Omicron, which threw our wedding plans into havoc yet again.
There was still no news of when borders would reopen, and even when they did, if airlines would commence flying into or out of Australia again. Our Aussie friends were wary of travelling with Omicron so prevalent, and we didn’t want to move forward with our celebration without them there. We were so close, yet so far.
It felt like Groundhog Day as we canceled once more, and the tears of frustration flowed. Again, comforting messages came from around the world, although they lacked the enthusiasm of earlier messages. “I’m so sorry, this isn’t fair,” they said.
“I don’t know what to say. ” We decided to reschedule one last time, this time for September 2022. Surely our plans wouldn’t be thwarted again.
Or could they? Every good story has a happy ending, but also usually comes with a twist. Ours is no different. Two weeks before we headed to the US for our wedding, I slipped on a scrap of food on the kitchen floor — like a classic comic strip — and dislocated my shoulder.
It was so bad I ended up in the hospital, where two doctors played a painful game of tug of war with my shoulder to try and fix it. I told them I was due to be married in less than two weeks. They asked me if I could postpone.
I’ll blame the painkillers wearing off, but my screams of “NOOOOOOOO!” could be heard throughout the ward. No way was I going to cancel. September 2022 was our new date, and I was determined to be there.
With my sling cast aside for the day, I smiled as I saw Cece walk down the aisle, looking beautiful — but most of all, she looked happy. It felt surreal after three years of disappointment and heartbreak. Once again, I had tears, but this time they were of joy.
We had struck out three times, but thankfully this wasn’t baseball, and we had an extra chance. Having our loved ones from around the world in attendance made it so much more special. It somehow made those dark, depressing 262 days spent in lockdown worth it.
The pain of all those cancellations will fade, but the memories will last forever. I will also be glad never to visit the wedding printer again. .
From: insider
URL: https://www.insider.com/i-got-married-after-canceling-3-times-in-3-years-2022-10
