This post is part three of my four-part series on wedding planning, perfectionism, and what really happens when the big day finally arrives. My hope is that these posts serve as both a peek behind the curtain of our Pacific Northwest wedding and a source of honesty and guidance for other brides navigating the stress, beauty, and contradictions of wedding planning. Check out parts one and two if you haven’t already.

Like many brides, I felt oddly calm walking into my wedding weekend. But the feeling quickly faded as guests arrived and the first event loomed. I was so nervous. The dress I’d picked looked all wrong, and my maids of honor couldn’t make it to my treehouse in time for me to consult them. I arrived to the welcome party late, frazzled and unsure of myself.

The Wedding Weekend Kicks Off

Originally, we pictured a small, casual gathering for our Friday welcome party, maybe 40 people with just a few drinks and bites. In reality, it turned into 70 people in a starkly conference-style space at the resort, with a full dinner, open bar, and open mic where family and friends shared stories about Ty and I. We made a custom “Find The Guest” bingo card, which had at least one participant leaping over the table in the heat of competition. Ty performed an unscripted speech, bringing the entire wedding in on a set of inside jokes we call our “expressions of love,” which was one of the highlights of the night.

Ultimately, the party was a little silly, but set the tone for a communal, connected weekend. I relaxed after a few drinks and felt relieved that the weekend was finally here, kicked off, and nothing had gone wrong…yet. The worry for what could yet transpire woke me up again at 3am that night, as it had every night leading up to the wedding.

Saturday ended up being every bit our dream day. We were surprised to see almost 30 people show up for the 9am “Tymania” roll call. Some ran the two full miles, others walked at a leisurely pace in the morning sun. Yoga was utter perfection, with the sun beaming down, green trees surrounding us, and the sky a perfect sunny blue. My mom sourced 40 yoga mats from her Facebook network, so everyone could join with ease. It was peaceful, grounding, and such an heartful way to start the weekend. I’ll always remember that first champagne cheers on the party bus and seeing our friends gasp at the beauty of Hood River as we crossed the Bridge of the Gods. Lunch among the vines was also utter perfection; we could not have asked for more perfect weather, and getting to entertain my family and friends in this beautiful, unexpected space was my inner host’s dream come true.

Wedding Day at The Griffin House: The Weight of the Weekend Culminates

But when Sunday finally rolled around, I felt the weight of a year’s worth of planning on my shoulders. Every detail we had envisioned - the Pacific Northwest backdrop, the quiet luxury styling, the disco-inspired party - came down to this one day. That’s why the anxiety was so acute. It wasn’t just about walking down the aisle. It was about watching an entire vision we had painstakingly crafted either come together…or fall flat.

I’d barely slept all weekend. Every night I needed a sleeping pill just to shut my brain down, and every morning I woke up groggy, unrested & unregulated. I felt overstimulated and physically anxious before every event, wanting everything to go perfectly. I was a bit isolated in our treehouse. Doing my hair and makeup, donning my outfit for each event, my stomach roiled, wondering if I was a bride who tried too hard, or just the right amount.

The morning of the wedding, though, I felt blessedly calm. The rush out the door, the surreal stop for coffee, the drive to the venue. It felt like ordinary life colliding with the most extraordinary day.

When I arrived at The Griffin House with my mom and maids of honor, the air shifted. This was it. The place we’d obsessed over for months. The cliffs dropping into the Columbia, the sun shining through the trees, the beautiful tent sitting so stately on the lawn. My design-obsessed best friends gasped when they saw it, which gave me my first surge of relief.

To start the day, we did a grounding meditation, put on music, and began the long ritual of getting ready. Dresses steamed, jewelry laid out, hair curled, faces powdered. From the moment I sat in the makeup chair, I felt the pressure begin to mount again. This was supposed to be the day I looked more beautiful than ever before. Would it all hold together? Would I?

By noon, Ty had arrived with the guys. Every time I saw him that day, my body relaxed. He’s always been my safe space, and on this day that mattered more than ever. 10am to 4pm passed in a flash, and suddenly, it was time to walk down the aisle. I almost forgot my veil, but we pinned it in place at the last minute.

Ceremony on the Cliffs: Tears, Heat, and Hydrangeas

Despite being an unseasonably hot day (90+ degrees!), the ceremony itself was perfect. My grandfather officiated, which gave the whole thing a gravity and intimacy you can’t manufacture. Standing there in front of him, surrounded by our people, the Gorge stretching beyond us, was one of my most grounded moments of the day. And Ty was crying. I had never seen him cry before. Not once in our years together. But as I walked toward him down the aisle, the tears ran down his face, and my breath caught. It was one of those cinematic moments you replay in your mind forever. And I had never felt more beautiful.

It was also brutally hot. Ty sweat through his entire shirt standing up there and had to throw it in the dryer before we could join the cocktail party. Guests fanned themselves with paper fans & hid under flimsy parasols, everyone glistening under the unrelenting sun. It was imperfect, it was real.

Walking into cocktail hour afterward was oddly nerve-wracking. You spend so much time picturing this day, envisioning how it will look and feel, and suddenly you’re in it, with dozens of eyes turning toward you. What do you do with your hands? What do you say? For a minute, I felt strangely out of place at my own wedding. But the photos from that cocktail hour with my closest friends are some of the ones I cherish most now.

And oh, the relief I felt when I saw the florals. I had stressed endlessly over them, doubting every decision, second-guessing colors, worrying they wouldn’t land. But they were perfect: hydrangeas, grapes, greenery pulled straight from the Gorge itself, arranged in ways that felt elegant but fresh. The same was true of the seating chart, which I had DIY’d completely. Seeing it standing there outside the tent felt like a private triumph.

Each detail that played out in real life as it had in my mind was like a box ticked after years on a to-do list. It was so satisfying. Unfortunately, the to-do list is very long on a wedding day, and we hadn’t yet had our first dance.

Lessons In Trusting My Husband

Dinner was a blur of speeches, cartwheels, and laughter. The speeches from our family & friends blew us away with their creativity, humor & love. Then, it was time for our first dance. This was the moment I had dreaded all day. I hadn’t drank or eaten a thing in anticipation. We had practiced for weeks, but once I put on my dress, everything had gone wrong. The skirt tangled around my legs, I forgot the steps, I felt clumsy and embarrassed. Hours before, I had begged Ty to scrap it. He refused. “You just have to trust me,” he said.

And he was right. When the music started, everything else melted away. I followed his lead, and together we pulled off the most joyful, exhilarating dance I’ve ever performed. The crowd roared, and in that moment I felt the duality of the day collapse into something simple: pure joy.

From there, we threw the most epic dance party of our lives. The first person on the dance floor spilled her sister’s drink all over the floor. A dance circle formed and one of my best friends from college did The Worm (in a dress).Ty and I were picked up and lifted, Hora dance style. CO2 cannons were fired, and disco ball sunglasses were passed out to eager wearers. It was the time of our lives. And yet, it was also me contending with a broken bustle, a second look that didn't let me drop it low, and chasing my vendors down to drop their tip envelopes off. In every moment, the wedding weekend contained the yin and the yang.

When the venue closed at 10 (womp womp), we weren’t ready to call it. We piled onto a bus and headed to the only late-night bar in town. At first it was dead, almost silent, save the few souls in the place. We had to ask them to turn on the music. But soon the back part of the bar was packed with our friends & cousins, dancing to “Mr. Brightside,” cramming into the photo booth, squeezing out every last bit of the day.

By the time we returned to Skamania, I was exhausted. We tried to get a golf cart to our treehouse, but it was too late, so we started walking. My heels pinched, the hot day had cooled to a brisk night, and I was done. Ty, drunker than I, insisted we cut across the front lawn. Halfway through, we hit a wall of sprinklers, arcing directly across the path. I was so annoyed, ready to turn back, but Ty grabbed my hand and said, “Trust me.” And somehow, he led us through dry.

It was the perfect end to the day. A reminder that even in the chaos - the heat, the stress, the exhaustion - I can trust him to guide us forward. I think maybe that’s marriage?

Our Griffin House Wedding trailer, by the incredibly talented Juan at Pletora Weddings

Gratitude for the Weekend That Was

We were so lucky. Our wedding went almost perfectly. Yes, it was hot, but we’d rather that than 20 mph winds or rain or, worse, wildfire smoke. Not a single one of our most treasured guests dropped out! I stayed healthy the whole weekend (& our honeymoon!), a huge feat I owe to my functional medicine journey in the last year. Our vendors executed our vision perfectly, and nature behaved in all the right ways to make sure I hadn’t a breakout nor tan line to disrupt my hard-fought bridal beauty plans. All-in-all, so much went right.

I woke up on Sunday morning and breathed the biggest sigh of relief. I had finally slept through the night, knowing I had delivered everything I’d set out to do. But it would take me weeks to wrestle with the feeling that I had somehow done it wrong.

This is part three of my four-part wedding reflection series. Don't forget to subscribe in order to get the full story, dropping weekly in September!

No wedding happens without an incredible team behind the scenes, and ours was no exception. We feel so lucky to have been supported by vendors who cared deeply about bringing our vision to life. To each of you: thank you for helping us create a wedding weekend that felt like “us” in every way.