On learning to gut-check

“I’ve been having doubts about our photography,” I start, eying the boy out of the corner of my eye.

He sighs.

I am prone towards second guessing. We had settled on a practical photography solution months ago, but my heart was never fully in it. I can see him mentally gathering up his arguments.

“I’ve been having nightmares.” I hedge, my voice rising. “that we get them back and they look like WEDDING PHOTOS and everything is in the right place but it feels wrong. It’s just, I’m not sure if I can get what I really want, you know?”

He doesn’t.

I’ve been trying to put it into words for him for weeks. But how to explain that what you’re looking for are photos that make your heart ache?

The look on his mother’s face when he starts saying his vows.

Your best friend cracking up when you try to give her a sweaty hug.

The thing he does with his eyebrows when he’s trying to be stoic. The awkward way I laugh when I’m nervous.

Posed photos are great, I want some* even, but the ones that get me are the ones that say: I was here. It was real, and raw and imperfect and beautiful.

We’ve gone over it all before. We can’t afford what I really want. We’ve chosen options that fit into our budget: a couple hours with a professional to take the must-have shots** with the rest coming from our (fledging) photographer friends and cameras being passed around.

“It will work out,” he says, trying to soothe me.

I’m doubtful.

So. The other week I took a shot in the dark and emailed my dream photographers. The ones whom I’ve been privately stalking for months now. My gut had been telling me that if I didn’t try to reach for what I really wanted, I would regret it. We only get married once. I reasoned that with such short notice, they were probably booked anyway or so prohibitively expensive that I would feel better about the choices we had made. At least I would have tried.

But. Not only was our date free, they were headed my way for a wedding that same week.

In a word, fate.

Maybe one day I will learn to listen to my gut. A goal for 33 perhaps? Surely it would spare me unnecessary angst and guilt.

All photos (I can now giddily, excitedly shout from the rooftops) from our photographers, One Love Photo.

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*NOT the token Prom posed photo of HIM holding ME just so. Vom.***
**People have strong opinions on which photos MUST be taken. I just want them to look natural. And I hope I look passably hot in them. Not going to lie. Here is what I don’t want: The awkward photo of me with my (divorced) parents who don’t always like each other with the SM shooting daggers at us.
***If you love this, I apologize. What do I know anyway. Friends still?

Tagged as: photography