Front Porch: Marriage brings delight for mother of the groom

When pregnant with my first child, I envisioned a beautiful baby girl. I dreamed of the dolls we’d play with and the tea parties we’d share.

“We’ll wear floppy straw hats and floral print dresses and drink tea from china cups,” I told my husband, setting my latest porcelain cup and saucer on a shelf.

If you’ve been reading this column for a while, you already know how that turned out. That first baby was a boy. So was the second. And the third. And the fourth.

Our home was a testosterone tsunami. Until August, when Freya joined our family, even our cats were all boys.

And then, one evening several months ago, our son Zachary brought a beautiful woman with long dark hair and coffee-colored eyes to a family dinner.

She held her own amid Hval volume, and when we played Uno, she didn’t balk at playing several Draw Four cards on me.

I forgave her even before she agreed to marry our thirdborn son.

When Zach showed me the engagement ring he’d chosen, I was on pins and needles until he finally popped the question. He proposed at the neighborhood park where he and his brothers spent many hours as kids.

Wedding preparations began in earnest. Naselle’s mom died several years ago, and when she asked if I’d like to go with her to look at wedding gowns, I cried. It was such an honor to be present when she found the dress of her dreams.

Then, I had the delight of introducing her to a florist friend. I served tea and cookies while we discussed Naselle’s wedding colors and ideas. Her mother’s favorite flower was yellow roses, so they became the focal point of the boutonnières and bouquets.

Speaking of tea, my daughter-in-law loves it. In fact, she and Zach’s first date was at Revival Tea Co. downtown.

Naselle’s bridal shower was a garden tea party at the home of one of her sweet friends. The invitation asked attendees to wear their favorite hats and party dresses.

You can read the tea leaves on this, can’t you?

Yes, I finally had a reason to buy a floppy straw hat and a new floral print dress.

As I sat at a table, with the bride’s two adorable flower girls, I asked the littlest one if she’d been a flower girl before.

She shook her head, taking a dainty sip of tea.

“No, have you?” she asked.

I laughed.

“Yes, but it was a long, long time ago.”

In the harried and hectic weeks leading up to the wedding, I wondered why there weren’t any “Mother of the Groom” movies. After all, there are plenty of “Father of the Bride” films.

On Oct. 5, as I watched my son become a husband, I think I discovered the reason.

There seems to be less worry for the mother of the groom. No drama about losing a son, angst over letting him go, or stress that she’ll be able to provide. Just delight in his happiness.

Zachary has found someone who holds his heart and his dreams in capable and loving hands, and I gained a daughter.

She is the answer to both of our prayers.

Cindy Hval can be reached at dchval@juno.com. Hval is the author of “War Bonds: Love Stories from the Greatest Generation” (Casemate Publishers, 2015) available at Auntie’s Bookstore and bookstores nationwide.