Wedding Blog

It’s hard for me to really remember anything about our wedding day. That’s how I get when I’m overwhelmed and over stimulated, for better or worse. I think it’s a coping mechanism, but it sure is obnoxious.

That’s one of the reasons that photos are so important to me on momentous occasions such as these. I’m not only reliving our wedding through them, I’m honestly recalling my wedding through them. Where I was, how I felt: it all comes back when I see a photograph.

And that’s why, as of yet, I still have a really hard time remembering the morning of our wedding. I’ve seen photo proofs of the rest of the day, but nothing of us getting ready except this photo of me on the Lake McDonald Lodge lobby balcony, taken right after my mom finished buttoning my dress:

When I get the pro pics back, I’m sure I can tell you more, but what I remember is this…

I woke up. I met my MOH in the lobby at 8AM, and we went for a three-mile run. I came back, ate breakfast, and showered. At 10, I went to my MOH’s room to wait for the stylists. Everyone arrived, a little late, but pretty much at the same time.

The room was probably the biggest in the lodge but it was still way too small for a group of six girls, a mom, and two stylists, plus whoever else chose to wander in and out.

They did my hair, I did my makeup, and it took me WAY too long to put on my eyelashes. Time passed slowly, then too fast: It was time to go and I wasn’t in my dress yet. I panicked and rammed my way into the dress, totally blowing the sensitive “becoming a bride” moment I was supposed to share with my mother and sisters. I regret that so much… probably more than anything else about the day.

The groomsmen and Mr. Cherry Pie got on their bus. My entourage and I got onto ours. You remember our school bus shuttles? Yeah, everyone RSVP’d that they’d ride them, and then no one did. Welp, city folk, whatchagonnado. I still think they were worth it, for fabulous pro-photo ops and the fact that they made it easy for Mr. CP and I to ride SEPARATELY in style to the ceremony site.

For some of our guests, the trip to Polebridge was their first introduction to Montana scenery. My grandparents and aunt made the long journey from Michigan to Montana by train and had arrived only the day before. They took this picture on the North Fork Road a few miles from our wedding.

For me, what had always seemed like a long, bumpy, 20-mile ride went by in an instant.

It had rained for hours the night before. I had to hold my train everywhere I went, including when I got off the bus.

I felt like a celebrity with everyone taking photos of me, but also mildly irritated—how was I supposed to make a grand entrance at the ceremony when everyone insisted on mobbing me? But the feeling passed. Of course they wanted a photo, right? Here comes the bride!

We were here, actually HERE in Polebridge. I was going to be married!

And there were our lovely guests, some of them having taken the suggestion to “dress Western” hilariously to heart. Kyle, the “preacher” at our second wedding was doing Cowboy hat-tricks outside the saloon, and the groomsmen were shepherding Mr. Cherry Pie away INTO the saloon to prevent him from seeing his bride-to-be.

I paced in anticipation, biding my time and praying it wouldn’t rain.

The minutes passed. The music started. Our guests were seated and the groomsmen stood up. My future husband made his way to the altar…

(I guess our best man felt that he needed a little extra sparkle from jazz-hands or “spirit fingers” or something. Unless that photo is of a really awkward-looking hi-five.)

I waited, he waited…

And then it was time for him to see me dressed in white, as a bride, ready to become his wife.

Next up: The ceremony from our guests’ eyes!