An Unconventional Wedding Day: The Decision (Part I)

The Decision

My wedding day was nothing like I’d ever imagined. I am a planner. Well, I delegate planning, but I always have a vision. I don’t think Segun, my husband, had a vision or plan. Whenever I’d ask him his thoughts about the wedding, he’d often say, “Whatever you want, babe.” I always liked that answer. It got to the point where I just started telling him the plan. Fortunately, he speaks up when he has an opinion about something—like the budget. So, I knew I wasn’t overstepping any boundaries here. 

Our conversations about the wedding began to change. It was less about logistics and more about timing. We had a few discussions about getting married earlier than we originally planned because we wanted to make sure my mom was part of this important moment. We got engaged in July of 2020 and planned on having a small family wedding in the summer of 2021. We did not want to start planning the big reception until after the pandemic. We were trying to avoid any additional disappointment, if possible. It’s been a year. 

My mom, Belinda, has been battling a rare stage IV cancer since February. Before my mom’s health really declined, any mention of wedding planning seemed to bother her. She’d say things like, “There’s no rush. We have plenty of time. We know you guys are getting married. Let’s just get through this.” I’m not sure if she meant the cancer or the pandemic. Likely both. I never asked. Understandably, my mom does not want us to treat her like she is dying. For quite some time, she did not even want us to treat her like she was sick. She fought this battle quietly for a while because she did not want her friends to worry. That’s my mom—always thinking about other people. According to her, she is going to live, and she is healed. Jesus has got her. My mom is right about most things; I hope she is right about all of this. 

While I have always admired the strength of my mom’s faith and I think leaning into optimism is the best way to live, I know that no one is promised tomorrow. Once my mom started receiving hospice care, Segun and I realized that it was time to stop having discussions about moving up the wedding date and actually do it. I called him into our bedroom, sat him down, and said, “Babe, I need you to figure out how we’re going to get married a week from today. Can you please handle this?” 

I was overwhelmed. I had to do everything in my power to make sure my mom was happy and comfortable. I had to take care of her—the way she has always taken care of me. It is a debt impossible to repay, especially as an only child; nonetheless, I had to try. I was helping my dad figure out the caregiving schedule, health insurance, in-home care services, finances, and the daily, unpredictable tasks related to caring for my mom all while processing the quick decline in her health. Everything changed in a month. I had no time to plan a wedding. I had to let go of my vision and trust my future husband. Thankfully, he is a trustworthy guy who knows how to execute a plan. 

Segun said he would handle it and kissed me on the forehead. We only had a week to plan because a few of my closest family members were coming to visit the following week to spend some time with my mom. This was the perfect time. I needed to see them. We hadn’t seen our family all year because of the pandemic. They had already scheduled their COVID tests and ordered equipment, so we could gather from a distance in the backyard. I cried when they said they were coming. 

When we told our parents we were getting married, they were overjoyed. Segun’s mom pulled me aside less than a year into dating Segun and asked me when we were going to get married. I thought it was a better question for her son, but I was thrilled she asked. Mom’s approval is important. She gave me the tiara that she wore at her wedding to make sure I had it before we got married. This exchange made me more eager to marry her son. His mom and I have been waiting for this day since 2017. 

Segun’s dad and stepmom were delighted to hear the news. On the day we got engaged, his stepmom said, “This is wonderful. God bless you guys. Now, go to the courthouse tomorrow.” Then she started talking about grandbabies. My dad was right on board with this sense of urgency. He proposed to my mom after six months of dating. He even had a talk with Segun about Segun’s intention to marry me before we moved in together. He’d been asking questions for the last two years. Segun and I have been together for four. And I know Segun’s stepmom and my dad did not want us living together for too long without being married. They’re very religious. It’s like we had a “living in sin” clock, and our time was about to run out. 

Always more subtle about her desire and knowing of our eventual marriage, my mom said she did not think there was a word in the dictionary that could describe her joy. She then went on to talk about how much she loves Segun. She said, “He has not given us any problems. He has only loved you the way you should be loved. He lets you be you. Even when I tried to find something wrong with him, I couldn’t. Because you know I was lookin’.” I hadn’t picked the right guys (for me) in the past, so my mom was skeptical when Segun and I first started dating. That all changed once she got to know him. 

In true “Belinda” fashion, the next thing she asked about was my outfit (no pun intended), hair, and makeup. I told her I bought a chic, white jumpsuit from Nieman’s, one of the first department stores my mom worked at, and purple shoes. My mom would always talk about how she fell in love with fashion when she started working at clothing stores in Beverly Hills in her early 20s. When I showed her the shoes in her favorite color, she said, "Oh look at you, you're fancy. But that's what I expect." Mom and I love being stylish. Then I told her that Aunt Michelle, my mom's best friend since the fifth grade, was going to do my hair, and I planned to do my own makeup. She said, "Fabulous! You know that's my favorite word.”