A Blogging Wedding: A Cupcake-Kitney Marriage

When I was younger, I followed the fairy-tale: meet someone, grow up together, get married, have kids, and live a Hollywood happy-ending. My first marriage looked like that on paper — school sweethearts, a castle wedding, a day built for everyone else. Yet life doesn’t always follow the script. By the time of James’ birth we were growing in different directions and ready to break. Becoming a single dad wasn’t part of the plan, but it became the making of me.

It was difficult. Disabled, newly divorced, home‑educating, and navigating 50/50 access when single dads were still treated like rare zoo exhibits. I spent years surrounded by mums at toddler groups, feeling like I embodied every deadbeat dad stereotype. Blogging became my lifeline — a diary that exploded into a community. I wrote honestly about everything: the good, the bad, and the ugly. All in an accepting space where I was just another parent trying to survive.

That’s where Hannah found me. In 2014, on one of my lower days and posts, she left a kind comment. 

We became friends — nothing more, nothing inappropriate, just two bloggers supporting each other. Then her marriage ended on the 1st April 2017. It was no joke. She was struggling. So I supported her the way she’d supported me, as a friend. Weeks later, after a long day and rant, something shifted. I realised I liked her, a lot. Our first date, the first Saturday in June, was a Maccy’s dinner and Doctor Who. Nothing fancy, but perfect in every way.

Long‑distance was beyond difficult. Kent to Cornwall, monthly drives, holidays, video calls, letters, and wanting more. When we were together, it worked. By Easter 2018, Hannah and the kids moved to Kent. Blending wasn’t easy. It took years, tears, and patience, but slowly and painfully we became a family.

By 2020, I told Hannah that when she was ready, she should propose. My DPD and EUPD made rejection overwhelming, and I trusted her timing more than my own. In 2021, she asked — and I said yes without hesitation. 

We wanted a wedding that reflected us: simple, faith‑filled, family‑centred, and rooted in the church that had become our home. We planned for 2023, but due to my dad passing in 2022, we postponed it for a year.

On 20th April, we were married at St Bartholomew’s Church, Bobbing — our church, community, and spiritual family and home. We kept it small: a 1pm ceremony, an afternoon‑tea‑style reception, and a day shaped entirely around God, love, and the six of us, with an 8pm finish, and chilled evening as a couple and family.

Will and James were my best men.

Arty gave Hannah away. Midge was her maid of honour, with her sister as a bridesmaid. 

Six of us, six Infinity Stones — our Marvel theme woven through everything. Midge in green (The Time Stone), Arty in blue (The Space Stone), James in red (The Reality Stone), Will in orange (The Soul Stone), me in yellow (The Mind Stone), and Hannah with purple (The Power Stone). 

The boys and I wore jeans, they had coloured converse, and I had black and white comic converse, all 4 of us had skinny ties, white shirts, and houndstooth jackets. Hannah wore a handmade dress sewn by her mum, complete with, of course, Care Bear‑lined pockets. Our cake had comic‑book pages, a gold flowing stream to match the Infinity Gauntlett, with the 6 coloured stones surrounding the custom-made pops of Hannah and I. Our tables held natural flowers as centre-pieces, with the colours matching our themes, resting in jam jars with tiny Lego Marvel characters beside them, across coloured table runners.

Hannah walked into the church to Something Just Like This, the song that embodies our relationship. We worshipped to Build My Life, My Lighthouse, and 10,000 Reasons, our favourite worship songs. Our reception entrance was the Avengers theme (watch it below). It was nerdy, joyful, colourful, faith‑filled, and unapologetically us. Then, for our first dance, we had One Call Away, something that fitted us as a couple when we were dating between Kent and Cornwall.

Here is our Avenger entrance into our Reception. 

Here is our first dance.

My parents were there, of course, in photos — watching from the front during the ceremony and from the side at the reception. 

My family nowadays is just my brother, who we invited, but my friends and the people who matter were also there. While Hannah’s family filled the pews for her. Finally, our church family surrounded us with love and blessings. Together, everyone celebrated our relationship, union, and marriage, and covered us in confetti.

I wasn’t nervous. Not for a second. It was the easiest decision of my life. In my first marriage, everything felt slightly off — even the ring. This time, everything felt right. My ring felt like home. I smiled all day. It was perfect — not because it was flawless, but because it was ours. In every aspect.

Hannah loves me for me — my body, disability, cheeky grin, chaos, softness, brain, and faith. She matches my silly, serious, broken, and whole. She is my missing piece, the person I didn’t know I needed until she arrived. She loves my boys as her own, and her kids have become mine. Four children, one blended family, one cupcake‑Kitney tribe.

Marriage feels different this time. Not a performance, expectation, or fairy-tale. Just two people who survived enough to know what love really looks like — choosing each other, every day, with God at the centre.

Here’s to the life ahead. The ordinary days. The chaos. The laughter. The faith. The family we built. The marriage we prayed for. The love that finally feels like home.

From bloggers, to husband and wife.