It was Armageddon, or so it seemed. In mine and Michael’s wedding cocoon, where nothing in our life matters but the events of May 14, his sister-in-law’s announcement that she was not attending our reception and the ensuing power struggle did seem like Merriam Webster’s definition of the final and conclusive battle between the forces of good and evil.

Three hours after the conclusion of my first bridal shower, which Michael’s mother made him attend according to Polish tradition, his sister-in-law and our bridesmaid, Paula, informed us she would not attend our reception in favor of returning to Michael’s parents’ house with her three children.

The reason? It dates back to the Feb. 28 column in which I related the conflict of what to do with Michael’s nieces and nephew during our adult reception. The conflict was resolved (or so we thought) when Michael and I made accommodations for two state certified child care workers to watch the children in a room adjoining our reception hall.

It came to light Saturday that not everyone was on board for our resolution. Certainly not Paula. The scene went something like this:

[Michael, Paula and assorted Orchowski siblings congregate in the dimly lit living room of the Orchowski home]

Paula: I won’t be able to attend the reception because I am going to bring the kids back to your (Michael) parents’ house after the church ceremony.

Michael: But, we bent over backwards for you … Sara? Sara?

[Enter Bridezilla Sara, mouth foaming, claws out and eyes darting from one end of the room to the other]

Sara: What?! What?!

[Melee ensues, Sara tears Paula from stem to sternum]

OK, that isn’t how it went. Actually, from the family room in the back of the Orchowski’s home, I never heard Michael calling me from the living room. I only began to realize something was wrong when Michael came storming from the living through the kitchen and out the garage door, roaring, “We are leaving! Now!”

I never touched Paula, only caught her out of the corner of my eye as I retrieved my shoes near the living room where, even after Michael stormed out, she continued to sit with one of her darling children in her lap. She has that child to thank for her life.

We didn’t leave right away, rather Michael gave himself an ulcer on his parent’s driveway, agonizing over why Paula would do this to us. I split my time between comforting Michael and comforting his mother who cried first because of Paula’s decision and then because Paula left with her children without giving their grandmother a chance to kiss them goodbye.

Michael and I left about an hour later. Instead of all the things we planned to do that evening, we went to bed instead. By the following afternoon, we decided to ask Paula not to be a member of our bridal party.

Never in my wildest nightmares about our wedding did I imagine that a month before the ceremony, I would be asking one of my bridesmaids to step down. But, it is done now. Paula can go home with her children and hopefully we can enjoy our reception. I am coming to realize that the events (plural) of May 14 don’t really matter. In the wake of this disaster, Michael has lovingly reminded me that there is only one event that matters: He is going to stand up before everyone we know and declare his love for me, and I for him.

That is something no one can change or mar.