How a hiccup at my wedding turned into the defining lesson of the year

How does one write about their first year of marriage?

How about, “The Top 10 Lessons I Learned!” I pulled out my journal, and here’s everything I came up with:

Okay, so never mind.

Should I review my notes from couples therapy and write about our sessions? Now that would be an interesting read. It would likely land me an interview with Esther Perel, and I could become a case study for the Gottmans. On the other hand, my vulnerability hangover would be so extreme I’d have to move to Antarctica and join a colony of penguins, so…

Back to that list…what did I scribble down again???

“Plan A to plan B.” Ahh, yes. A classic. A family mantra whose origins began with my Grandpa Stash, my mom’s dad.

Embrace flexibility—accept what is, pivot with grace, and continue moving forward when things don’t go as planned.

Austin and I practice Plan A to B, like, every day. For example, we might think we have eggs in the fridge, but we don’t, so suddenly that adorable omelet breakfast turns into a protein smoothie. Or maybe one of us is snappy with the other, and while that’s never our intention (aka Plan A), sometimes it’s just the way the cookie crumbles. Plan B allows us to try again, to say, “Sorry, lemme try that again. Take Two.”

One of my favorite pivots occurred during the final moments of our wedding.

PLAN A

Plan A was to have a receiving line as our darling guests left the venue; it felt important to look everyone in the eye and say ‘thank you,’ an intentional and heartfelt goodbye. I imagined our family and friends enjoying their little cups of banana pudding as they walked into the summer night air. Then, Austin and I would share one final, private moment on the dance floor. Plan A.

That little vision didn’t come to life, of course. If you’ve had a wedding or hosted a large gathering, then you know that there’s a 99.99999% chance that something will not go to plan.

Austin and I stood by the door, and our beautiful guests, at absolutely no fault of their own, had little guidance on where to go or what to do. Everyone was enjoying themselves in little groups, eating their pudding and snapping adorable photos. I couldn’t love them more if I tried.

The DJ packed up their equipment, guests trickled out through various exits, and the opportunity for a receiving line and final dance slipped away. I remember walking up the stairs to the balcony, the holding area for the bride and groom, and I did what any party girl does when she’s bone tired— I cried.

PLAN B

Austin put his arms around my shoulders. One of us had the idea to play our song from a phone, so that’s what we did. I opened Spotify and pressed ‘Play.’ I laid my forehead to his chest, letting it rest in the impression that falls right at my height. Swaying on the balcony, spilling over with love and exhaustion, we were all alone…save for the moon and the swans in the pond. Plan B.

Our wedding moon // Chaz Cruz Photography

I love Plan B. Don’t you? It’s sweet, quiet, and meaningful.

I like to think that my marriage began on that balcony. Austin and I were each other’s for 6.5 years before we exchanged vows, but something about that moment felt like us saying, “as long as we have each other.”

We grabbed our bags, our pie, and hopped in a cab.

I imagine I’ll be lucky if I learn 10 lessons in my lifetime. Some years may carry more than one, some may repeat those of years prior. I love my takeaway from Year One.

When Plan A falls through, go ahead and cry about it. But only for a moment before moving forward with Plan B, or Plan C, D, E, F, G.

The important bit is that we stay together, all the way to Z.

I’m curious - what have you learned about marriage?

Chaz Cruz Photography

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