Wedding Blog

Happiness is having, in your hot little paw, the complete set of your professional wedding photos. My paws are so very happy today. The Inimitable Chris Richards (I’ve given him an epithet, à la Homer) has bestowed upon us all the files of our photos - fully sized and fully awesome! Hopefully, you’ll indulge me if I revisit the stories of the day through them…

Our wedding day began with one very nervous little bug. I’ll admit it - I was a stress case. Between all the DIY projects and details I’d arranged, I was feeling extremely anxious about whether I’d have enough time to set it all up exactly how my control-freak self wanted it.

I awoke at ten, in my hotel room at our venue, to a phone call from catering manager Kathleen telling me that the reception room was all mine. I flew out of bed and spent the next three hours hauling favors, menus, books, signs, candy, jars, etc. across the grounds to the reception room and arranging it just so. It was largely a solo operation, until it dawned on me to employ the services of the bell boy and waitstaff. Durrh.

At about one, I had to take a break and jet across town to get my hair done. I was shaking like a leaf, fixating on what I still had left to do before the ceremony. Jamie, my stylist, was a doll, telling me how composed and calm I was - even though on the inside, it felt like I’d swallowed an entire fleet of butterflies.

Once I had my hair did, I jumped in the car and zoomed back to our venue. When Kathleen saw me flying around like a maniac, trying to finish up on my own, she and the banquet manager jumped in with (hugely) helpful hands. And yet, I was still a jittery wreck. That’s about when, like an angel descending from above, this man appeared:

Meet Captain Don, savior, saint, and sanity-keeper. He was the waitstaff captain that day at our venue, and he was a godsend. Captain Don (as we affectionately called him throughout the night) saw my state of controlled panic, took me aside, and offered me a drink. “I’d love some water,” I replied, grateful.

“No,” he said. “I mean, a drink.”

One very stiff cocktail later, I finally started to relax. The florist’s team showed up, and without needing so much as a nod from me, set everything up perfectly and beautifully. Same with the baker. And the DJ. And then Chris, our photographer, arrived - all smiles, excitement, and creative efficiency - and I truly felt myself easing into the joy of the day.

My in-laws arrived soon after that, and I happily abandoned the last shreds of control; I assigned them the final task of placecards (which I handed to them totally out of order, hence my FIL’s look of bewilderment and frustration):

Meanwhile, I snuck off to my bridal chamber (conveniently located just steps from the ceremony site) for a moment’s solitude:

Catering manager Kathleen (who, with all her assistance was really a de facto DOC) stopped by at one point, because she remembered a detail that I, in the chaos, had forgotten: the setting up of the signature drinks sign:

It wasn’t long before my bridal chamber maids started arriving, dutifully outfitted in their backstage bridal passes:

(Funny sidebar: one of my very best friends apparently came to the room to say hello and was denied entrance by my girlfriends because, like the sign warned, he lacked a pass. Oops.)

And then, before I knew it, Unbelievably Momentous and Exciting Moment #1 was upon me. It was time to put on my dress:

(A bit repetetive, I know - but these pics shows how truly pink my dress is.)

I can’t even describe how powerful and emotional a moment it is, realizing it’s time to put on your wedding dress. All I can say is, those of you headed towards it - you will love it. All the intensity and stress of choosing, buying, and fitting into that perfect gown will be worth it. The day just becomes magic at that point, really.

Experience had shown me that the best approach to getting into my gown was shoes first, then stepping into it and pulling it on with a patented shimmy-shimmy-wiggle move I’d perfected during fittings. Zee shoos first (which, incidentally, were not particularly comfortable):

Then homegirlz had to extract the dress form while I stood around pantless and guffawing, for some reason, like Santa Claus:

…and now the step-shimmy-shimmy-wiggle move:

Earlier in the day, my best friend Mason had texted to make sure I’d eaten breakfast. I’d replied that the one thing I felt I could stomach, an apple, was woefully unavailable. Well, knock knock knock upon the bridal chamber door…special delivery for the bride, from her best friend:

…and here’s me, gesticulating at thoughtfully-gifted fruit with mascara-endangering emotion:

Further assault on my composure was launched when the girlfriend who’d created my something blue helped me to put it on:

(but not before Chris snapped this shot:)

The blue crystal hit at the perfect spot on my back:

(BTW, if you haven’t noticed a theme developing yet, let me point it out to you. Nitrous Oxide Bride. That expression I wear of erupting laughter/mania is pretty much a constant throughout our photos. Even walking down the aisle - you’ll see.)

Mere minutes before the ceremony, I made a quick visit to the mirror…

…where, in hopes of achieving Cosmetic (if unprofessional) Beauty, I messed around some more with this stuff:

…so Chris could take some decent portraits:

It was haaaard to pose for these. And the first time I saw them was at the reception, when Chris played them back on a HUGE flat screen on the patio. Seeing myself so enlarged was surreal, to say the least. Chris also got some awesome detail shots of my clutch (with my new initials!) and my other something blue:

(Mr. Lovebug and I share an unfortunate affliction: asthma. Some couples reach for smokes after the lovin’…we reach for our steroid delivery mechanism.)

Then, suddenly, there was another knock on the door. It was Kathleen, with Unbelievably Momentous and Emotional Moment #2 - very quietly and calmly, with a smile, she said, “They just walked up.” Meaning Mr. Lovebug and the officiant had taken their places. Meaning it was time to walk down the aisle. What did that moment feel like? Kinda like this:

In this photo, I’m a short five steps from rounding the corner and beginning my walk down the aisle. It was such an amazing moment. One to savor, as long as you can. Seriously. Just stand there, in those fleeting seconds before the music starts, and soak up the thrill and the joy of it. I can remember my heart pounding, the wind rustling my train…the click-click-click of Chris’s camera, inches to my right. How lucky I felt to be alive, living this day.

Of course, the real intensity was only just beginning…