— from a wedding photographer who became the bride
After years of capturing weddings as a photographer, I thought I’d walk into planning my own with complete clarity. I’d seen all kinds of timelines, trends, and emotional moments. I knew the flow. I knew what I loved. But when it was my turn — in 2024 — I realized something I hadn’t expected:
Knowing everything doesn’t protect you from feeling overwhelmed.
And even more surprising? I still made choices I regret.
This post isn’t about what went wrong — because so much went right.
This is about the things I’d do differently, the moments I’d protect harder, and the perspective I’d give any bride walking into her own season of planning.
The Trap of People-Pleasing
There were things I didn’t do — not because I didn’t want to, but because I was trying to keep the peace or meet other’s expectations. And if I’m honest, I lost little pieces of myself in that process. It’s a strange thing to pour so much into one day… only to realize you weren’t fully in it.
As my wedding got closer, I became completely overwhelmed with work, timelines, and all the moving parts. Instead of being fully present, I slipped into host mode — making sure everyone else was having a good time while I quietly forgot to slow down and experience it myself.
A Thought About Bridal Parties + Head Tables
Something I wish someone had told me earlier:
Your bridal party should be made up of the people you truly envision standing beside you long-term, after the wedding.
And your head table? That’s yours to define too. Want your parents or siblings beside you instead of bridesmaids and groomsmen? Do it. You don’t have to follow the rules — you get to write your own.
The Dress(es), the Hair, and the Whirlwind
Yes, I had three outfit changes — four if you count switching back into my original dress.
And yes… I changed my hair during dinner.
In the planning process, it felt exciting and extra. But in hindsight? I was being indecisive. And all that shifting pulled me away from my guests on the day-of — the very people I had been counting down to celebrate with.
One of those outfits was my mom’s dress — and wearing it felt incredibly meaningful. But I didn’t stay in it long. Looking back, I wish I had saved it for the rehearsal dinner, where I could’ve worn it longer, honored my parents legacy more intentionally, and still felt beautiful without the pressure of time.
Honestly, I wish I had booked photo coverage for the rehearsal dinner, too. I wanted her dress captured so badly, I tried to squeeze it into the wedding day. But I’ve realized since then:
It doesn’t matter how many people see a moment. It matters which people do.
The Moment I’ll Always Carry (and the One I Wish I Had)
Eight months after our wedding, my dad passed away.
And here’s what I’ve carried in the months since:
I wish I had written him a letter for our first look.
I wish I had printed him a photo of us — something simple and tangible he could’ve held onto.
But I didn’t. I got caught up in the aesthetic things — the signage, the tablescapes, the flatlays.
And I overlooked some of the most deeply personal ones.
If I could do it again, I’d choose meaning over mood boards. Every time.
What I Learned About Time
I was so focused on the schedule that I missed soaking in the moments.
If I could go back, I would’ve booked 10 hours of photography and videography coverage.
More time means more breathing room.
More margin.
More presence.
During golden hour, I spent more time than I planned on sunset portraits. I wish I had capped it at 15 minutes so I could get back to the party. During that time, we also did a private foot-washing, which was beautiful and sacred — but if I could do it again, I would’ve moved it before the ceremony so it didn’t cost me that time with our guests.
First Look Regret (Yes, Really)
I didn’t want a first look. I loved the idea of seeing my husband for the first time down the aisle — and we stuck with that tradition.
Instead, we did a first touch and prayer.
But the truth? I was so nervous, I could hardly speak.
I could barely pray.
I needed a hug.
And in hindsight, a first look would’ve grounded me. It would’ve helped my nerves, calmed my heart, and given us a shared moment of peace before everything began. We also could’ve done family and wedding party portraits ahead of time, freeing up the rest of the day to actually celebrate.
What I’d Tell Any 2025 Bride (and Every One After Her)
- Do what YOU value most — not what looks best in a photo.
- Book the coverage you need based on what you’re doing — more time = less pressure.
- It’s okay to have a coffee date with your fiancé the morning of.
- It’s okay to wear your mom’s dress and book photo coverage at the rehearsal dinner.
- It’s okay to break every tradition that doesn’t serve your peace.
- And it’s more than okay to spend time with the people who truly matter — even if those photos never make it to Instagram.
You get one wedding day.
And while not every detail will go perfectly, how you feel matters the most.
So choose peace.
Choose meaning.
Choose gratitude.
And when the day is done and the photos are all that’s left —
you don’t just remember what it looked like.
You remember what it felt like.
And my hope for you is that it felt like the wedding day of your intentional, meaningful dreams.
