There is a polished version of love that wedding industry professionals are taught to sell.
It is full of flawless moments, set in stone timelines, and the promise of a perfect "happily ever after."
For years as a college trained wedding photographer, that was my main metric for determining the perfect wedding day.
Then, my own marriage ended.
Going through a divorce truly forces you to look at things from a different perspective. In the beginning, I'll be honest; I wondered if I would be able to do this job anymore.
I worried I would stand behind the camera feeling like a fraud for documenting a life commitment that didn't work out for me.
However, the exact opposite happened.
Stepping back into weddings didn't make me love my job less, it made me appreciate love in an entirely new way. The fairytale story I'd always been told may have faded away, but it made room for me to see the deep purpose of the commitments being made.
I used to focus heavily on the grand events and performative poses.
Today, my eyes go straight to the quiet moments that show the deeply special connection we have as human beings.
I look for the squeeze of your hands at the alter, the happy tears falling from your parents eyes, the glances you share throughout the day, the genuine laughter that fills the rooms as your loved ones tell stories from your past.
Those are the moments that keep two people together when life gets heavy.
My marriage wasn't what I thought it would be and letting go of that dream was painful.
But it taught me a truth that I bring to every wedding I capture now; the wedding isn't the finish line of a perfect story.
It is the incredibly vulnerable starting line of a lifelong choice to always put each other first.
To my clients, past, present, and future:
Please know I will never look at your wedding day and see "just a party".
I see the beauty and courage it takes to make this promise.
I value your wedding day more than ever because I know how precious and worth fighting for that connection really is.
