"Where is the dress, I can't find the dress!"

Minutes before my fiancé and I set out on a cross country trip and my most precious item is missing. The 'I do's' were still to come, but only if I could find my gown.

"It's already in the car," said my groom.

I sighed some relief knowing we had safely packed everything from proper documents to the rings. When I'd return home, I'd be his Mrs.

The family knew of the engagement, my mother and sister helped pick out the perfect wedding dress and the family knew of our cross country trip. The family didn't know our wedding bliss would start with a secret elopement.

Fast forward a week and we were ready. The gulf coast breeze and jazz in the town square; we were having a New Orleans wedding. We'd have our own parade down Bourbon street with police escorts, we'd hire a few musicians to follow us along and we'd document the whole thing live via Facebook. It would be the perfect beginning for two spontaneous, impatient lovers.

It didn't happen that way. It didn't happen at all.

The city denied us a marriage certificate.

New Orleans, the city with the heaviest amount of French influence in the United States, denied my Canadian fiancés French birth certificate.

We didn't panic. We were secretly eloping and expected a hick-up or two. After driving from Nebraska to Louisiana, we left the next morning. Our vacation could wait, our lives together couldn't.

"If we take the east coast we can elope in Vermont. Or this route will take us to Nashville," said my groom to be.

Married in Nashville. This time is would be perfect. We'd say our vows underneath a willow oak tree. A fountain as old as the home would romantically spit water at us. We'd stay in a cheesy bed and breakfast that hadn't been updated since the 50's. This would be exactly and perfectly us.

It didn't happen that way. The owners were out of town until Friday, a whole five days away.

Goodbye Nashville. After a quick dinner, we continued on our cross country journey to find our story book beginning.

Our travels took us to the border. If we couldn't find our story in the United States, perhaps we'd have better luck in Canada.

By the time we reached Montreal my fiancé and I had a solid 24 hours of driving under our belts. We said our helloes to family and soon heard, "I'm surprised you two aren't married yet," from my fiancés father. My future in-laws could already guess what we were up to.

We chuckled and kept our secret quiet. The next morning we set out to gather our marriage certificate. This time it really would be perfect. We'd get married where my love grew up. My husband could celebrate with his family and friends post surprise wedding before heading home to celebrate with my family. We traveled across two countries and here it was, Mont Royal, the perfect park to exchange rings.

It didn't happen that way. Montreal laws state you must post a public notice for 21 days prior to ceremony.

It was at this point we figured maybe all of this is a sign. Our wedding shouldn't be a secret.

We returned to my fiancés home and told his parents of our failed attempts to wed. In the most supportive fashion, they started searching with us to find a province where we could finally marry.

Ottawa, Ontario. An officiant nearly two hours away had an opening in two days and walked us through everything we would need. After a 24 hour drive and three non-sucessfull attempts, we could share vows. It wouldn't be the storybook beginning we'd searched for. On an Ontario April afternoon, we'd stand in the center of what is supposed to be a garden. The cold Canadian air prevented much from blooming by this point. The officiants pool had collected snow and rain throughout the winter and that murky water would be just feet away. This wouldn't be perfect.

"Hey mom, I'm in Canada. Everything is great, the drive was long and I should mention I'm getting married tomorrow." I called my mother. If anyone could handle the chaos of planning a quick wedding, she could. "Baby, I'm so excited for you! I'm going to tell grandma, she eloped and thinks it's the best way to get married." Grandma Eloped? This was news to me, perhaps that's where I get it. "Grandma isn't doing well, she's in the hospital," said my mom. "This will cheer her up, send photos!"

The next morning, I primped my hair and applied makeup as if I was going to a photo shoot. No matter if my fiancés mother was the only family in attendance and I'd soon be married in a strangers back yard. This was my day.

Two hours later and we're stuck outside the office where we're supposed to receive our marriage certificate. We can't get in. The doors are locked, the office is closed and it's not happening.

Admittedly a flash of relief washed over my body. No murky pool, no strangers backyard and as I looked at my partner for the same relief, I only found defeat in his eyes. I watched the man I love fight back tears as he realized we'd tried everything to become one and the universe continued to tell us no. No wedding. No shared last names, no life long partner, we could always wed later but today was my day, it was our day.

It was at that moment I realized it didn't matter where it happened or who attended. We were writing the pages of our story book beginning everyday. I didn't need a parade or a Facebook audience. I didn't need a grand, pristine church or a tacky waterfall. All I need is my groom.

We contacted our officiant to apologize for wasting his time and explained why we couldn't proceed. He then responded with the most beautiful sentence ever structured in the english language. "There is another office."

What? Where had this information been? We scurried on our way, speeding across town to get our certificate.

We were more than an hour late to our own ceremony. I crammed myself into my wrinkled dress in this stranger's bathroom. I couldn't walk in the heels I purchased so I chucked them and walked barefoot. My hair went flat and most of my makeup had cried and sweat off. When I met my groom, all I could think was this is happening and it will be perfect.

And it was.

For Derek and I, there was no way it was supposed to happen. It just needed to happen.

Shortly after our wedding day, I received news my grandmother passed away. My mother said grandma saw all the photos we'd posted. When we returned home, we had our reception, our first dance, our wedding cake and the most perfect story we never predicted.

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