10 Year Challenge

I’m not one to jump on social media bandwagons, but I’ll admit I did go back and look at my first facebook profile picture. I didn’t even make a post because, honestly, I pretty much look the same! I still wear that coat. But oh, how life has changed.

“Child-Raising Vacation”

That’s what they call extended maternity leave in Romania. You get six weeks of obligatory medical leave, then after that you have the option to take two years of paid “child-raising vacation.” Sound too good to be true? I thought so, too.

We were in the car on the way gone from the airport, and on a whim I decided to check my bank balance again. I’d been checking it every few days for the last few months, anxiously awaiting the day my maternity leave pay would finally show up.

Baby Takes Flight

America, meet Benjamin!

carefully chosen flight wardrobe

I was pretty stressed about this trip. We'd been sleeping a solid 8 hours every night for about a month, with a nap schedule that worked, and I was not looking forward to messing that up. Ben also hates long car rides and usually goes between sleeping and screaming whenever he's strapped into his car seat. The thought of 11 hours on a plane did not sound fun to me.

Well, it turns out all the stress was for nothing (as usual), because traveling with baby was actually no big deal. It was almost easier than flying without him. Yep, I said that.

I know I'm not the first to write about this, but there were a few things that I was so glad I did to prepare for this trip!

Self-Care, or "How to Stay Sane"

One of the most difficult parts of motherhood for me has not been taking care of the baby. I had some anxiety about knowing how to respond to his needs, but as it turns out, he's pretty simple -- feed him, keep him in a dry diaper, and rock him to sleep every couple of hours, and he's good.

What nobody tells you before you have a baby is just how hard it is to take care of yourself.

In the weeks after I gave birth, I honestly felt like I was still pregnant. None of my clothes or shoes fit, the nights of poor sleep continued, and thanks to my C-section, getting up and down was even more difficult than it had been with a huge belly. I was still just as miserably hot all the time as I'd been for the past several months -- why didn't anybody tell me that breastfeeding can trigger hot flashes? It really felt like a fourth trimester of pregnancy. Aside from the huge relief of not having heartburn anymore, I still felt pretty crummy, and with the added pressure of having a small human depending on me 24/7!

I soon found out that I needed to take care of myself, for the good of everyone in this house. Here's what got me through the first three months of motherhood...

Prayer and Coffee
I make it a point to spend the first feed of every day in prayer. I pray for Ben, I pray for my husband (Lord knows he needs it with me around!), and I pray for myself. I read. As much as I've always hated reading the Bible on my phone, it comes in handy when you're up before dawn and/or only have one free hand. Then, as soon as my husband is awake and making his coffee, I get him to make me a cup, too. If I don't do these things first thing in the morning, they probably won't get done, and we all know my attitude needs Jesus and caffeine more than just about anything!

Showers
A nice, hot shower does wonders. Being clean just makes me feel human and slightly more attractive, so it is pretty high on my priority list. I must confess it doesn't happen every day, but I try to make it at least every other day.  My, how standards change when you have a baby. At the risk of sounding heartless, I have been known to leave my crying baby (fed and changed) in the safety of his crib, shut the bathroom door, and just block it out for ten minutes while I wash spit-up milk out of my hair. Don't knock it till you've tried it.

Nursing Gowns
Specifically the ones that don't even look like pajamas. I wore a gown home from the hospital, back to the hospital to get my stitches out, and even to the grocery store, and nobody could tell I was actually in my pajamas! They are comfortable and make you feel less guilty about still wearing the clothes you slept in when company comes to see the baby. Leggings and big t-shirts serve the same purpose, but leggings bothered my incision, so the gowns were essential.

Easy, Nutritious Snacks
I think I lived on instant oatmeal for a few weeks. I ate a lot of mixed nuts, dried fruit bars, and fruit and yogurt smoothies -- basically anything nutritious that I could eat with one hand. I always keep a huge water bottle nearby, too! I think a great gift for a new mom would be a smoothie maker, one that blends the smoothie directly in the bottle you drink from (in other words, less dishes to wash). I got one for my birthday and I use it almost every day!

Medela Swing Pump
I've used the pump a lot more than I thought I would. Sometimes people offer to keep the baby, and you should take them up on that. I try to keep a couple of bags of pumped milk in the freezer for those occasions. I've also pumped on road trips when I knew he would need to eat, but we couldn't stop on the highway to take him out of the car seat. I just pumped and gave him the bottle right away. Now that he's started to sleep all night, sometimes I wake up super full and end up pumping from one side. I love the Swing pump because it's small and battery-operated, so it's easy to take it with me in case I need to pump while I'm out. You could also just get a hand pump as an alternative. Either way, don't think you'll never use it, because you will!

Taking a break!
Like I said, sometimes nice people offer to help, and you should accept that offer. This was hard for me in the beginning because I have an independent streak that wants to handle everything without help. That is a dangerous attitude postpartum. Exhaustion is risky business. If you have a neighbor, friend, or family member who offers to keep the baby while you run errands, DO IT! If you say you'll be gone for an hour, but finish sooner, go get a cup of fancy coffee. Walk around outside. Eat with two hands. Whatever. Just relax knowing that your baby is completely safe and being entertained by someone who isn't sleep-deprived or stressed out. Even just letting my husband stay home with baby while I bought groceries once a week was the only thing that kept me from losing it the first couple of months!

This applies at home with baby, too. If you can't seem to throw together a decent meal, don't be above ordering pizza or take-out more than once a week. When baby is asleep or at least sitting quietly, do something good for yourself (eat, brush your teeth, change your socks, etc.) before you try to do any chores. Let daddy hold the baby while you walk the dog and get some fresh air.

The bottom line is this: You can't take care of a baby when you're falling apart yourself.

Your own physical and mental health need to be your number one priority, and smart people in your life should understand that. It won't last forever, and the rest of the world can just deal for a couple of months.

What helped you get through the first few months of being a mama?

Out and About

Since I had a C-Section, and we live on the third floor, getting out of the house was pretty uncomfortable for the first several weeks after baby was born. Once I had recovered from the surgery, though, I started getting seriously stir crazy! I am not used to being in the house all day, and even though we have a nice balcony where I tried to sit outside a few minutes every day for some fresh air, I really needed to get out and move!

But then the anxiety hit... I hesitated to go to town because I wasn't sure how to run errands with a baby. I was surprised at how much courage it took for me to leave home with him. My fears were unfounded, though, because it turns out Romania is an extremely baby-friendly place to live.

Romanian Birth

While I was pregnant, the question I heard most often was "where will you give birth?" Then, after answering that I'd be having the baby here in Romania, the next question was always "WHY?"

Romanian Pregnancy

I realize that our baby is now almost 3 months old (HOW?!), so maybe it seems like kind of an after-thought to blog about pregnancy now. But if you have children, you know that there isn't much time for blogging in the first few months after having a baby! Now that I'm starting to breathe again, I thought I'd share a little about my experience of being pregnant and prenatal care in Romania.

My Ebenezer

Five Years
On July 29th, 2012, I flew out of Atlanta to spend a year in Romania.

Five years later, I’m still here.

They have not been easy years.

In 1st Samuel chapter 7, we read about Samuel praying to God on behalf of his people, Israel. Under Samuel’s leadership, they had just destroyed all of their idols and repented of worshiping false gods. They had gathered to fast and repent together as a nation, and this gathering made them an easy target for their enemy, the Philistines. They had been obedient, but now they were about to be attacked, and they were afraid. They begged Samuel, “Do not cease to cry to the Lord our God for us, that He may save us.” So Samuel cried out to the Lord, and the Lord did save them.

In that place where the Israelites had repented, where they had cried out to God, and where He had come to their rescue, Samuel set up a memorial stone. He named it Ebenezer, which means “stone of help,” and declared “thus far the Lord has helped us.”

Like the Israelites, I’ve had to destroy many idols in the last five years. I’ve thrown out false gods of pride, insecurity, jealousy, pessimism, and even my own thoughts about what my life should be like. I let go of some things I thought I wanted, and accepted some things I wouln’t have chosen for myself.

I’ve fought battles, too -- language, cultural differences, doubt, conflict, moments of fear, and temptation in many forms. But every time I cried out to the Lord, He was faithful. He has shown me His goodness and blessed me in ways I never expected and don’t deserve.

I got married. I worked five years at my dream job. I’ve seen lives changed and prayers answered. They have not been easy years, but they have been good.

So how did I celebrate five years in Romania? What did I do to mark the fact that thus far, the Lord has helped me?

My Stone of Help
On July 29th, 2017, I had a baby.

I, an American, had a baby in a Romanian public hospital.

Does that sound as crazy to you as it did to the hospital employee who checked me in?

“Don’t you know there’s a private hospital? And why aren’t you having this baby in America, anyway?”

When I found out I was pregnant, I had to make a lot of decisions, and it seemed like everyone I talked to had an opinion about what I should do. It was all quite overwhelming, and I was already terrified of giving birth. But thank God for my husband, whose faith is often much stronger than mine. Every time I second-guessed a decision, he would ask me, “Didn’t we already pray about this? And what was the answer?”

In hindsight, I can see that every choice I made in faith turned out to be the best choice. Everything was arranged perfectly by the One who is perfectly good, and I can see His faithfulness in every detail.

I can see it in the little bird that sat on the skylight of the operating room for the whole hour during my C-Section, although my heart had been set on a natural birth. Somehow, that bird was like a sign to me that this was for the best.

I can see it in the nurse who kept rubbing my head and telling me everything was ok. This was my first surgery, first time even being in the hospital, and it was scary.

I can see it in my doctor, who’d tried to change shifts so he could be home for his daughter’s birthday. I’m sorry nobody would trade with him, but I am so thankful he was on call that day so I could be with a doctor I trusted.

I can see it in the three other ladies who shared my hospital room, even though I’d been hoping for a private room. We became a team for those five days, a community.

I can see it in all of the hospital staff who were so nice and took such good care of us, even without bribing them, which is what most people think happens in Romanian hospitals.

I can see it in a roommate’s mom who tried to comfort me when I was in pain. I appreciated that.

I can see it in the two times I got sent home from the hospital because the baby just wasn’t ready yet. If he’d come sooner, I wouldn’t have given birth on a Saturday afternoon when the hospital was less busy. Any sooner and his birthday wouldn’t have been on the five year anniversary of my coming to Romania.

Most of all, I see His help and His goodness every morning as I sing old hymns over my sweet baby boy. He is my stone of help, given to me as a a reminder forever of how faithful the Lord is when we trust Him. He is my Ebenezer.

“Here I raise mine Ebenezer, hither by Thy help I’ve come...”

Two Heartbeats.

This is what I can't get over -- I have two heartbeats.

This week I went for my 12-week checkup. (By the way, I AM PREGNANT.) This is the checkup where they measure the baby's neck and nose, then ask if you want to do the bloodwork to check for chance of genetic disorders like Down Syndrome. When I left my last checkup, the doctor made sure I understood how important it was that I come in at 12 weeks. 

Yes, I understand. It's important. After 12 weeks, you'll only have a few weeks left to legally terminate the pregnancy if something doesn't look right. 

So I went. I went at 12 weeks. For 6 weeks I had been showing around my first ultrasound picture, which was basically a little blob, or maybe a bean. It wasn't much to look at, but what that picture didn't show was the heartbeat. In the same week that I got a positive pregnancy test, I also heard the baby's heartbeat. My doctor showed me how the little bean was sort of moving, and explained how that movement was actually the heart beating, then turned up the volume so I could hear. 

I went home and cried. I had one heart beating in my chest and one in my belly.

For the next six weeks, when I looked at the black and white image of my little bean-child, I could still hear the thump-thump-thump that meant it was alive. 

I knew the baby was growing and developing, but I don't think I was prepared for that 12-week checkup. I watched the screen as the doctor measured the neck and showed me the nose. I looked at the head and belly that had formed out of that first bean shape. I saw little feet kicking around. I heard the heartbeat again.

And then, with kindness and respect, my doctor asked me a question she already knew the answer to: "Of course you'll keep it no matter what, right? I know how you all think, that you always keep it." 

Of course I'll keep it. 

She's had enough patients of my kind to know that we keep miracles. We keep wiggly feet. We keep heartbeats. We keep life. 

I assured her that I still wanted to comply with every test and every recommendation she had for mine and the baby's health, but with the understanding that regardless of any outcome, I will keep it. She assured me that everything looks good, that all the measurements are normal, and that she understands. She knows that we always choose to keep the baby. 

I looked back at the screen and tried to process the reality that, if I'd chosen, if something hadn't been "normal," I could've terminated. I could've stopped the feet from wiggling. I could've stopped my second heart from beating. 

But how could I? 

I have two heartbeats now, and I could no more willingly stop one than the other.

Spike!

Back in September, after much begging and pouting and pleading, I finally convinced Dani that NOW IS THE TIME! We NEED a puppy! 

Now, I know it may seem silly to pray about a dog... But I really wanted this to happen. So I asked God that, if it's meant for us to have a dog, He would help us find just the right puppy for us. With school having just started, I would be gone until around 2:00 every afternoon, so I wasn't sure how we would handle training. We also really wanted a Yorkie, since I know from my parents' Yorkie that they are good with kids and don't shed. But what were the chances of us finding a Yorkie that wasn't a tiny puppy? Nobody raises a Yorkie and then gets rid of it, right?

When we started to search local classified ads, guess what we found? A 6-month-old Yorkie, already partially potty-trained, whose owner was moving to Austria and really needed to find him a new home. Perfect! 

He is absolutely the sweetest puppy I've ever seen! Sometimes I'm convinced he's actually smiling. Aside from just being the cutest thing ever, I love how friendly he is. He has forced me to get out and go for walks more often, and to learn to talk to strangers. 

We live beside a river, and there are many older people who sit outside in the afternoons on the benches that line the sidewalk. Spike seems to have a special talent for finding the ones who need a little bit of joy -- he goes straight up to them and demands attention! I love to see how happy they are to pick him up and cuddle him, and it gives me an opportunity to talk with and encourage them. It's become one of my favorite things to do in the afternoon. 

So I guess I've become one of those people who gushes over their animals. I think we make a pretty good team!

Spring/Summer Update

Hello, everyone! I know I haven't been faithful this past year with sending updates, but in all honesty, there isn't always anything interesting to tell.

We spent the last year remodeling our apartment, and now that we've finished, we try to open our home as often as possible. We hope this a place where others can experience God's love and grace, and leave encouraged in their relationship with Him. We were both ministered to in the past by families who welcomed us into their homes, and now we want to do the same for others.

Otherwise, we spend most of our time doing very ordinary things -- me teaching, Dani working, and both of us helping at church in various ways. Last year I taught 8 classes, double the work load I had when I started teaching four years ago, but I love my job more and more each year. I was also more ready for summer vacation than ever before!

Here's a look at what's been going on this summer:

Ministry
As in years past, I helped a mission team from New Mexico with two weeks of day camp -- first at Bread of Life Church, then with kids from villages surrounding Lake Surduc. I translated for the high school small group and led worship each morning. We had around 120 kids each day at both camps, where we went through the book "Lord, Teach Me To Pray," based on The Lord's Prayer. We learned that prayer is not reciting poems, but communicating with God. We learned how to pray so that God will listen and answer, and most importantly that prayer requires that we first have a relationship with Him.

I also helped with a 3-day leadership camp for teenage girls and youth leaders, where we went through a study called "Lord, I Need Answers!" We learned what the Bible teaches about some basic Christian beliefs, giving us a better understanding of our faith so that we can be ready to answer questions from our friends about who God is and why we believe the way we do. This was a small camp, with only around 15 girls/ladies, but we all enjoyed learning together under a wonderful and experienced teacher, Mia Oglice. Although I attended as a volunteer, I learned a lot, as well. While at this conference, a friend and I also began making plans for a girls' group that we hope to begin at church this Fall.

I recently started helping with Sunday School full-time (before, I was just filling in as needed and helping with special programs). I've loved getting to know the kids from the church neighborhood over the last few years, so I'm excited to spend time with them on a regular basis now. We just finished learning with them about the life of Abraham, so as a celebration, we had a pizza party and took some of the kids (who are well-behaved, and whose parents gave them permission) to the movies to see "Secret Life of Pets." Three out of four girls in the picture below had never been to the movies. I had a hard time convincing them to keep the glasses on during the film, but once we went outside they didn't want to take them off!

Personal

We finally finished remodeling our apartment in the Spring, so I've spent a lot of my free time working on some projects to finish decorating -- sewing, hanging pictures, etc. I also learned how to drive by myself in Romanian traffic this year, which has enabled me to visit my in-laws more often in the village. I always bring home lots of fruits and vegetables from their garden, so I've also learned how to make preserves this summer! Most importantly, I've had time to make new friends, and I'm so thankful for relationships with a few like-minded women that God brought into my life at just the right time.

Last week we enjoyed a nice vacation to the beach to end the summer, as the weather is already cooling off and I am getting ready to go back to school in two weeks. It is so nice to be able to return to work feeling refreshed, encouraged, and ready to give 100% both at my job and in ministry.

Prayer Requests
Thank you for your continued prayers, even though the updates are not as frequent as they were in the past. 

• Pray for the girls' group that I mentioned, as we tried to start this last year, but without results. Pray that we would succeed in building relationships with the teenagers in the church neighborhood, and that we will know how to communicate His love to them in a way they can understand. 

• Pray that the children, both at church and at school, will hold onto the Truth we've planted in their hearts as they grow older. 

• Pray that we will continue to be faithful with the relationships and opportunities He sends us, that they would all be used to make Him known.

Cabbage.

Today's spotlight on everyday Romania is dedicated to cabbage.

Cabbage represents the many things I never liked in America, but have given a second chance in Romania. Before I came here for the first time in 2009, I spent several months forcing myself to eat boiled cabbage from the college cafeteria. Friends would gather around the table and cheer as I tried not to gag on my self-denial. I never could get over the oily, slimy, greenness, though. And please, let's not even talk about cole slaw! Disgusting!

Being a picky eater can be inconvenient, though. When you live in a culture that eats a certain food on a regular basis (like every Sunday), you eventually get tired of turning down food and going hungry. Based purely on convenience, I started to eat cabbage, and surprised myself by liking it!

That's right, I said it.
I like cabbage.

It turns out I never liked cabbage before because I'd never tasted it any way other than boiled or tossed with evil white mayonnaise. I guess sometimes you just need a little change of perspective.

Out of all the many Romanian cabbage dishes, "Varza a la Cluj" is my #1 cabbage love. It translates literally as "Cluj Cabbage" (Cluj is a large Romanian city), but because I grew up in Georgia, I like to call it "Cabbage Casserole." Baked layers of meat, onions, and shredded cabbage, covered with tomato sauce that forms a crust on top -- this is hands-down my favorite school lunch!

Another aversion Romania has convinced me to overcome is something I thought I would never, ever get used to. I had given up any hope of ever acquiring this skill. I filed it away under "Becky's many weaknesses" and let it go. What I thought impossible, and what I accepted for years as something that just wasn't for me, I now consider one of my greatest accomplishments.

I learned to drive a stick-shift. 

I know this probably doesn't seem like a big deal to you, but for me, it was huge. My attempts at driving "a stick" back home usually ended in disaster. Picture the mailman stuck behind me on our narrow dirt road because I couldn't move the truck, and my sister in the back screaming that she wanted out because I couldn't get over a hill. Now add to my incompetence the madness of Romanian traffic and terrible roads, and I think you'll understand why I've been a pedestrian for the last four years.

Automatic transmission is considered a luxury item here. Nine out of ten cars on the road are standard, including ours. It's part of life, no big deal for most people, and the rest of us just buy a bicycle and forget about it. I spent a year trying to learn to drive with my boyfriend (who in the meantime became my husband), and my first lesson involved an old lady chasing her runaway cow straight toward me. How typically Romanian! After awhile, though, I started to feel more confident and thought I was ready for the city streets. Every time I stopped at a crosswalk, the engine died and cars lined up behind me, drivers shaking their heads and honking. Then I choked in a roundabout and couldn't move the car, started crying, and called Dani to come take me home. That was a year ago and the last time I drove alone in town -- until last week.

They say necessity is the mother of invention.
I would add that necessity is also the mother of courage.

Since my roundabout incident last summer, I tried several times to conquer my fear of driving a stick-shift, and of Romanian traffic, but every attempt left me sweating and feeling panicky. I kept re-imagining my past failures. There was a lot of yelling. My husband has unbelievable patience. Eventually, though, I realized that my inability to drive was keeping me from doing things I loved. Going to our girls' Bible study at church, helping my friend move to her new apartment, or even going to the grocery store I like on the other side of town meant waiting for someone to drive me. I felt handicapped, cowardly, and tired of depending on someone else to carry me around. So I decided last week that it was time to drive. After two years of trying but not quite succeeding, and more than ten years after giving up for the first time, I got in my stick-shift Volkswagen and drove myself to church. It was that simple.

I feel like I can do anything now.

Romania has changed me in a lot of ways, especially by teaching me to try hard things or new things simply out of necessity. In a world of cabbage and stick shifts, I have learned to move past my dislikes and face my fears, because sometimes the abundant life requires that you get over yourself. Even when I don't want to do something, or even think I can't, I've learned not to say 'no' without trying 'yes' first.

And as a result, I have learned that I can.

Thanks, Romania. 

Anatomy of a Romanian Kitchen

For the next several weeks (or months), I'd like to blog about some things I've learned in Romania. Every day is filled with so many little happenings that have somehow become uninteresting to me, but four years ago seemed strange and exciting, or sometimes terrifying. More than lessons and bleeding heart stories, I want to share some of the ordinary moments from my life that I feel represent my second culture. 

While I started supper, I took a snapshot that represents my Romanian kitchen pretty well.

Nothing too interesting there, right? No clay oven or firewood next to the stove, although wood-burning stove/oven combos are still pretty common. The wood goes in the upper door on the right, under the stove, and the door on the left is the oven. It's called a "sobă" (so-buh).

My husband's grandfather has both a gas stove and a sobă, and we usually find a pot of soup on the latter -- both cooking and heating the house. Nice for village winters, but not a good idea in city apartment buildings!

Now back to my supper. Wait a sec while I flip the sausage... Ok, done. Smoked, fresh, homemade, store-bought, or gifted from a friend, no good Romanian can live without that pork goodness. Most families butcher a pig before Christmas, so there's plenty of meat for the next several months, including delicious homemade sausage. My in-laws didn't "cut the pig" this winter, but they did buy some quality meat to make sausage, and that's where the coil in my cast iron skillet came from. We're eating roasted potatoes and sausage for supper tonight. I fry the sausage a little to let out some of the grease, then cut it into smaller pieces and throw it in the oven with the potatoes. I use potatoes from my in-laws' garden, and my husband will probably open a can of his mama's pickles. Are you catching on to something here? Romanians make a lot of their own food, and they share.

On the back burner, I have a pot of chicken soup simmering. I'm making a huge batch to separate into containers and freeze. I'd like to mention that the chicken for my broth also came from -- you guessed it -- my mother-in-law, as did the homemade hair-thin noodles I'll add just before serving. I always thought soup was something complicated and sophisticated, but it turns out you just throw some bones in a pot of water, add a couple of carrots and a parsley root, and let it simmer a few hours. Remove meat/bones, season, add noodles, and serve. I keep a supply of chicken wings and backs in the freezer, and a huge box of noodles in the closet. Romanians eat a lot of soup. 

Between the stove and sink, you'll notice my lunch dishes on the drying rack. A lot of people live in apartments, some with several kids, and with fewer bedrooms than we have. Needless to say, 1980's communist floor plans didn't include dishwashers. Small spaces, big families, and a culture that loves soup and sausage. Think about that for a minute. Romanians wash a lot of dishes.

To the left of the stove, notice my little packets of seasoning. No shaker bottles unless you buy industrial quantities, with the exception of salt. I have a backup stash of garlic packets. Romanians eat a lot of garlic. It keeps the vampires away. 

I hear my husband's key in the door, and supper is ready just in time. Pofta bună! (Bon apetit!)

My Big Fat Romanian Wedding

One year and one month have passed since I updated my blog. In my defense, it's been one heck of a year!

I got MARRIED to a tall, skinny, kind, thoughtful, generous, self-sacrificing, multi-talented, hard-working hunk of Romanian manliness. Yeah, I might like him a little bit.

Romanian weddings are full of tradition, and so much fun! Let me tell this story in a few pictures that you've probably already seen on facebook, anyway.

We spent the morning at the hairdresser, then my sister Emily did my makeup, and my Mom helped me get into my enormous dress. She loaned me her wedding garter to wear as "something old," taped a penny to the bottom of my shoe, and fastened the string of pearls I received from my Grandparents for my 18th birthday.



Around noon, my groom came with his family to get me from the bed and breakfast where my family and I spent the week before the wedding. Traditionally, this happens at the bride's home, but my family doesn't happen to have a house on this continent. I love this picture of my Dad asking, "What do you want?" and then pulling the old Romanian trick of trying to give away my sister instead.

 

None could replace Dani's true princess, and I finally accepted "his heart" and a bouquet in exchange for my hand in marriage.

 

After some quick pictures and a few finger cakes, we left in a honking, hollering caravan for the civil ceremony. More friends and family met us at the city theater, where we signed our marriage certificate and became legally married. Here we are in front of the theater with all of our witnesses.

 

After a few more quick pictures around town, we headed to the church for the two-hour religious ceremony. In Romania, honorable couples should be both legally and spiritually married.

 



Ok, so maybe my dress barely fit down the aisle, but who cares? We could've chosen a bigger, cleaner, and more organized church for our wedding, but it wouldn't have been OUR church.  It's the church my groom literally helped build, where he was baptized, and where I saw him standing on a ladder while I translated for a mission team during VBS three years ago. It's a church in the dirtiest, poorest neighborhood of our town, and the church we love more than any other. The sanctuary was packed with people from every age group and walk of life imaginable, and my Grandmother was even there via Skype. We wanted a simple wedding day that represented us in every way possible, even in its imperfection -- and in my opinion, nothing could have been more perfect.

 


 

After the church ceremony, it was time to celebrate -- and let me tell you, Romanians know how to throw a party! Guests started by enjoying the fruit buffet, chocolate fountain, mini cupcakes, and unlimited coffee with flavored syrups. Then we continued stuffing ourselves with cold appetizers, noodle soup, cabbage rolls, and a meat-and-potatoes main course. Obviously, the best part was the giant chocolate cake with vanilla cream and sour cherry filling... and sparklers. Hopa!



Five courses, two wedding games, and an open mic -- that's what I call a reception. The only thing missing was a good dance, but that's "sinful" here. Alas.

 



Our wedding day lasted 14 hours. That's a lot of merriment for two introverts like us, but we had a blast. I know your own wedding is always your favorite, but I honestly haven't been to another wedding I enjoyed as much as ours! And hey, we didn't look bad, either. How huge is my dress? I love it!

 

So, there you go -- our big, fat, very own Romanian wedding.