I never thought that my own wedding day would become the ultimate test of that instinct.

I am standing at the altar of Riverside Gardens, the late afternoon sun filtering through the towering Douglas Firs, casting a kaleidoscope of gold and shadow across the white aisle. I am wearing the dress of my dreams, a vintage-inspired lace creation I found in a boutique in the Pearl District, and looking into the eyes of Declan Hayes, the man I intended to build a life with. The air smells of pine needles and the damp, earthy scent of the Willamette River flowing just yards away. It should have been perfect.