How Do You Find a Wedding Dress Without Your Mom?

There's something I didn't mention in my last post, about why I haven't written much on Sally's Circle in the past few years. 

The truth is, wedding planning without my mom was really hard. So hard that I couldn't even come here and tell it to you. An open wound I couldn't yet put words to. 

Only later, after the wedding, when I could just experience the pure joy of finding a partner with whom to traverse this crazy, beautiful, sometimes painful life, did I begin to process the feelings of grief and loss that I carried between my engagement and wedding day. 

So I wrote about it, through the lens of the crux of my misery: finding a wedding dress. And the amazing editors at xoJane.com said they'd publish it. And then their incredible community of women wrapped me in their arms with their 96+ comments. (I'm still trying to reply to each one, but in a thoughtful way, so please be patient.)

So here she is, in all her glory, my essay:

My Mom Died 10 Years Ago, But How Am I Supposed to Choose a Wedding Dress Without Her?

By Marisa Bardach Ramel

Totally overwhelmed: How do I do this without my mom?

A hipster salesgirl in Warby Parker glasses and red lipstick unzipped me out of the millionth wedding gown I’d tried on that weekend. Emerging from the dressing room in my jeans and flip-flops, I scrutinized my curly up-do in the faraway mirror -- the one meant for teary-eyed brides squealing that they’ve found The Dress.

Instead, I saw a scared little girl -- forever that 20-year-old who lost her mom -- masquerading as some sophisticated, almost-30 bride-to-be. Yeah, right. I wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Laura, my maid-of-honor and best friend since 13, who studied my face expectantly. She liked so many dresses -- how could I feel so meh about them all?

The store’s door closed behind us with an annoyingly cheerful jingle. Outside in the summer sun, I inhaled New York City’s Sunday brunch scent of smoky bacon and exhaled out the entire experience. I was free -- for a moment.

Continue reading my essay on xoJane.com

Here comes the bride, all dressed in...?

In case you're wondering how wedding dress shopping went... well, as I find with most things related to grief, the anticipation is the worst part. So, after a week or so of nerves for my first excursion, the actual day was an assortment of feelings:

Excitement: My friends' enthusiasm cheered me throughout the day. They oohed, they ahhed, they welled up, they scrunched their noses at the ones we all knew were hideous. And even though our tastes are all different from one another, they kept in mind what I like and what will reflect my personality. I really appreciated that.

Confusion: The more dresses you try on, the more confused you get! Chiffon, lace, strapless, sweetheart, halter, a-line, ballgown... and those are only the terms I can remember. While I did find some good options, I don't know that I've found "the dress," so there will be more shopping ahead. Which leads me to...

Exhaustion: Blame it on a week of pre-dress anxiety, the art of speed-waking the streets of Manhattan to race to the next appointment, the physicality of stepping in and out of dress after dress, or the momentary feelings of loss, but all those things combined left me one tired lady. Phew.

Grief: While I didn't consciously think of my mom while trying on dresses, I'm beginning to think that inside every bride is a little girl who can't believe that's really her in the mirror. And in some ways, she needs her mother to verify that she's all grown up and ready for this big adventure--basically, to kick her out of the nest. I guess without her, I've been out of the nest for a while, but the sudden shift from child to adult can still be alarming at times. Especially when wearing a white gown.

So, next month will bring another round of shopping... any tips?