There was occasional tension during the wedding planning process when my husband and I got married, but overall everything went pretty smoothly.
Ironically, it wasn’t until a few weeks after our wedding that I was faced with a wedding crisis.
I still remember the day I received that fateful phone call. I saw our wedding photographer’s name appear on my phone and I answered, full of excitement, imagining our special day being timelessly captured.
“Hey Liz… I’m not really sure how to say this, and I’m so very sorry… something, um… something went wrong with my camera and… well, my memory cards completely corrupted… Liz, um… I’m so sorry. Some of the pictures came through, but…”
I didn’t even hear the rest of the sentence. I was devastated.
As the weeks passed, I grieved the fact that I wouldn’t have those pictures to reflect on: my mother helping me into my dress, our wedding party sharing smiles and moments of love and connection, my husband and I in those cheesy but ever-so-special portraits, moments after we made our lifelong commitment to each other.
My husband, being the pragmatic and logical man he is, handled the situation differently. He was frustrated, no doubt, but he didn’t seem to


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