This year of marriage has been the most difficult for me.
Did you see any WifeReflections?
Right.
See, I thought that “making it” to Year Five meant that we’d figured everything out and didn’t need to “protect the house” as much. I kept hearing about year 2 or 3 being so rough, but we enjoyed those so much (and I made sure we’d never be “those” couples, so… Our preventative maintenance wasn’t as strong as it used to be. We started to take each other for granted. I’d come home from work, find him in his office, so I’d go to mine, work on my novel, live in my own world, and then we’d maybe watch an episode of a show during dinner. He’d keep working, I’d go to bed, and in the morning, we’d do it all over again. We’re super independent people, so this set-up was preferable for achieving our goals. Totally not helpful when you’re in a relationship. Especially not helpful when you’re married. SUPER bad when you start feeling like your spouse is more of a decent roommate than your best friend.
It happened slowly. It happened when we had our guards down. When we started taking each other for granted.
And then we were in crisis mode. But we are, thank God, committed to working on it. To handling it. To prioritizing our partnership above all else. To pursue marriage counseling. To essentially unlearn all the bad habits we had picked up along the way, stripped down to the basics, and build again – relearning communication styles and what it means to be an empathetic listener and how to be able to be separate people while also allowing the space between us to be safe, sacred, and ours.
And that’s the key, I do believe, of what I’ve learned this last year of marriage.
Look at your partner like it’s the first day you’ve ever known them. They’ve never seen this day before – and neither have you. Give them the benefit of the doubt, over and over and over again.Put aside what you think you want and focus on what THEY might need to have their day a little smoother. Add currency into the emotional bank account. Learn your partner’s bids for connection. Practice empathetic listening. Most of all, never take for granted that your relationship will always be as “great” or “terrible” as it is now: if it’s not in a good spot, it CAN get better. If it’s in the best shape its in, keep working at it. It’s when one person stops pedaling, or the other gets distracted, that the bike can get off track.
And so today, on our sixth wedding anniversary, it feels important to thank Cody for being willing to work on this marriage with me, for his mercy when I fail to be the wife he deserves, and for making me laugh like no one ever has, day after day after day.
When Cody asked what I wanted for this anniversary, the answer was easy: You, Cody. I want you. Having you in my life is already more than enough. But also if you wouldn’t mind one day letting the cat on the bed so she can cuddle with me, that would also be fine.
I always feel bad for those couples who say, “We’re together like, all the time. We do everything together!”
That’s great, but have you had your first fight?
Then they look at me like I’ve destroyed all the hope of love and romance in the world. But I’m just being realistic.
Because if they spend all their time together and they haven’t had their first fight yet, then are they more, or less, likely to reconcile once conflict inevitably arises?
There are a few principles we follow, fairly subconsciously, but could be explicitly stated here. I’m not professionally trained in conflict resolution, but enough experience has made me feel like I can share the
Ten Commandments of Resolving Conflict
Fight fair. We don’t say things that aren’t true just to “win” the fight.
Do not swear – not even for emphasis. It escalates the tension so quickly and it leads down a path of saying what you don’t mean.
Stay calm. This is so difficult but becomes easier with time, I promise. Deep breaths. Take ten. Inside voices. Use a stress ball if you need one.
Don’t slam any doors in your partner’s face. It communicates punishment and a literal halt to any continuance of conversation. I am so guilty of this. It honestly only prolongs the time it takes to get to the reconciling stage. Just don’t do it to yourself.
——————
Let your pride suffer and stay in the same room, or at least say, “I need some time. I’ll be back.” It sucks so bad, but it helps so much to leave the path of communication wide open. It says, “I don’t like you right now, but I still respect you.”
—————
Hug before it gets too bad. Cody’s infamous for wanting to be affectionate right when I’m about to blow. It’s something like, “C’mere. Hey. Shh.” along with a big hug. I swear it’s still from when he was three and getting into trouble with his Momma. I can just see him waddling over to his Mom’s leg and opening up arms for forgiveness. I suppose it works for me, too.
When you’re ready to fix the problem, hold hands. It shows that you’re committed to a solution. It reminds us that we’re in this together.
—————-
It’s not me against you. It’s us against the problem.
————-
Don’t make things more dramatic than they have to be in order to prove your point. Don’t try to intentionally manipulate, threaten, or scare your partner in order to get your own way. It’s just not worth it.
Do not offer drastic ultimatums. It suggests a lack of trust in your partner’s will and desire to be with you.
Don’t ever threaten divorce unless you actually, deep down, really mean it.
Remember what’s really important. Is the thing we’re fighting about actually important, or is it a little inconvenience that we’re upset about? Will this matter in ten years, a month, or a day? If it’s a huge discrepancy between y’all values, then it’s going to take more time to iron out and reconcile. But if it’s about coming home to see the meat hasn’t been thawed yet? Go grocery shopping together. Order a pizza. These are quick fixes and aren’t grounds for divorce.
These points work for us, but we’re always surprised when yet another conflict seems insurmountable and scares us into believing that we won’t “make it” through this next obstacle. Do you have any other ideas or approaches that work for you and your partner? Please share them below!
I distinctly remember the weeks leading up to 2013. I was second-guessing everything, especially my choice to be in such a serious relationship when I just 20 years old. As it goes with thinking the grass is greener on the other side, I believed that people my age were living it up, right in their refusal to be ‘tied down’, dedicating themselves instead to their ‘selfish’ years, while I was – on the other hand – making myself exclusive with a guy I’d known since high school. How could I possibly know that this relationship was the right one if I had barely experienced a relationship with anyone else? Right?
I have wonderful sisters-in-law who waded through the murky waters with me and asked the ultimate question: Can you see yourself with anyone else?
A week later, Cody asked me on the way to our New Year’s Eve celebration: Do you want to start this year single? What? That was an option? His question honestly scared the living daylights out of me and was enough to answer with an adamant No!
I know it was so tough for him to ask. It was a gamble, since I was clearly not totally ‘in’ but wondering if I should be. The thought of losing him felt like immediate suffocation. At almost-26, I want to roll my eyes, but I really can’t make it any less dramatic; I was 20. It was dramatic.
But there was a huge factor that kept me with Cody when just about everything else was pulling me out of the relationship: his parents. My future in-laws. I know it’s so different than the ‘typical’ woman’s experience, so if you don’t have a solid relationship with your in-laws, I hope you don’t take this as salt in the wound. I know I’m lucky. But I also think it’s not impossible to recreate in someone else’s life, either. While I wondered if I’d ever have anyone else remotely close to Cody, I also knew I’d never find another family quite as wonderful as his.
Even though I only had two decades behind me, I had heard the horror stories of in-laws who have made it difficult to function in a partnership, who weren’t supportive, who didn’t know how to keep their noses out, who wanted to sabotage the success of the relationship for one reason or another.
My in-laws, however, are the opposite. They call us out when we’re being unfair or dramatic, or they subtly suggest an alternate viewpoint. My favorite? One, or both, will throw out a joke to ease any tension.
I’ll never forget when I was becoming jealous over Cody’s ex-girlfriend one day and his dad, a man of few words, simply stated, “You’re going to have to accept that he has a past, just like he’ll have to accept yours. He’s here with you now, isn’t he?” And that was it. It was short, to the point, and the truth. I knew then that, if I were to marry Cody, my future father-in-law had our best interest at heart.
My mother-in-law, affectionately referred to as Momma Ray, is more involved – but in the best ways possible.
A few weeks ago, Cody called and told me that his mom would be staying with us for the week. Whenever I told my colleagues that morning, they tentatively waited for my reaction: was I happy about this? Was I going to be distracted all day, thinking of what I needed to put on display before my mother-in-law came to town? I quickly dispelled any concerns with a quick, “No, no! It’s okay! I love her!”
A week had passed, and new tensions still hadn’t arisen. There was no reason to complain – at all. And, honestly, it was so nice to see my husband so happy, knowing that he had to be loved if his Southern mother was choosing to spend a week in cold Chicago.
I know it is a bizarre phenomenon. It’s not expected. And I swear to the highest heavens that I’m not ‘killing with kindness’ or faking affinity for my mother-in-law.
The night before she was going to go back home, I asked Momma Ray why she thought we had such a solid relationship, after almost seven years of being in each other’s lives, totally breaking the usual stereotype. She thought about it for a little while and then share three main guidelines she follows.
Momma Ray’s Guidelines to Being a Mother-In-Law:
Don’t assume the worst. This is such a graceful act and one I appreciate so much. This means that even if I had done, or said something, that didn’t initially vibe with this woman, she gave me another chance to redeem myself. I’ve heard her muse that people could be having a rough day, or under a lot of pressure, and they may react uncharacteristically. She gives people so many chances. I’m relieved; when I’m a new mother and making decisions that she might not agree with, I know she’ll be patient with us – and not automatically assume that we’re the worst parents that ever tread the earth. My mother-in-law and I get along so well probably because we both give everyone the benefit of the doubt – maybe almost to a fault. But I think we’d both rather be this way, than the alternative.
Be realistic. As in, every new relationship will have bumps, so don’t assume your kid is always right. I’m so glad Momma brought this up, because it’s so true. I felt welcome from the very first visit to Cody’s hometown. When Cody said something incriminating (in jest, of course), I waited. I wanted to slap him, but didn’t want to make a scene. On the same beat, Momma Ray lifted an eyebrow, turned to me and said, “Want me to get him, baby?” I knew I was safe, then. I could share my own reactions and not worry that Momma would jump to Cody’s rescue (even though he was the one making trouble). Even though Cody has an amazing relationship with his mom, she’s never become a wedge in our relationship. She is able to separate her son-the baby and her son-the partner. Because she lovingly corrects her son, it in a way reminds me to be the best partner I can be, too.. not to avoid any confrontation, but because we’re free to make mistakes, but we’re expected to fix it, too.
Don’t take sides. I didn’t have to be married to Cody yet to feel like Momma was the advocate of our relationship, not just the advocate of her son. In fact, by the time we had said “I Do” I already felt like I was one of Momma’s own. She said herself, “Once y’all married you both became my kids equally and I wouldn’t take sides with my natural kids.”
I wish everyone had a woman like Darla to call ‘mother-in-law.’ She and my own mom share so many of the same values, like hard work, and grit, and grace. They lay down their own wants and desires for the good of the family and are most joyful when the people she loves are happy, healthy, and taken care of. Any less, and I swear she can’t relax.
What do I do to nurture and maintain such a good relationship with my mother-in-law? Well, I suppose that’s for another reflection.
Because they’re so awesome, we decided to give them a little gift 🙂
I heard it frequently when we got married: “Enjoy this, because it’ll be over soon.”
And I kept wondering what the “it” was – the magic that surrounds a new marriage? The romantic gestures that Cody has performed since we started dating? The hope of looking forward to an exceptional future together?
Over time, I deduced that these people were talking about the primal, almost naive instincts of young love.
You know what it is: when your butterflies keep you from creating a coherent sentence, or you count down the hours until you get to be with your person again.
Cody and I were already in a serious relationship when I was 17, so the combination of my still-developing brain and teenage hormones made it quite interesting to explore a maturing partnership while navigating how to stay up late to get in as much Skype time as possible.
It was a very fatalistic perspective they suggested, and I’m not one for throwing in the towel so soon.
After this week, I’m firm in my stance that the “honeymoon” stage of your relationship can certainly come back. You just need to change things up.
Cody and I agreed that we’d switch every-other-year between staying in Chicago and traveling to Arkansas for the Thanksgiving holidays.
The first year we were married, we spent Thanksgiving in Chicago, so we decided to take a little road-trip to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, for a free one-night stay using a Hotel.com promotion. Long story short, it was just the get-away we didn’t know we needed. We spent hours in the pool and hot tub, reading and chatting between chapters about what our future could look like. It was actually during this conversation that I became serious about being a novelist. We had a beautiful dinner at the Baker House. We walked along the lake. The hotel we stayed in was loosely occupied. It was wonderful. We didn’t have to spend lots of money, and the experience was one we’ll never forget.
This year, we decided to do something similar. I had many gift cards for restaurants and a voucher for a one-night stay at a downtown hotel, so I booked our room that Monday and we hopped on the train that Friday afternoon.
We knew we had a 9pm dinner reservation that night, so we needed something to hold us over in the meantime. We bought fast-food chicken, walked along the river until we found a place we could picnic (it wasn’t cold compared to what it could be at this time of year!), had fun acting fancy with fluffy robes and super-downy beds, swimming, and watching a movie all before dinner at Nacional 27.
At 17, we weren’t eating fancy meals at a five-star establishment along the riverfront. Instead, we embraced fast food and pretty views for cheap. To return to this aspect of our relationship did wonders to set the mood for the rest of the 24-hour getaway.
We danced and laughed so much that, by the next morning, I found I couldn’t look him in the eye. I felt nervous. At one point in between bites at breakfast (also covered by the hotel voucher – score!), Cody asked me what I was thinking. I struggled for an answer, so I shrugged. My intelligent brain was mush, finding its roots in the memories of 17 year-old Ania. How could I articulate that this, right here, was the most sophisticated we had gotten all weekend and I wanted to do was go back to our room and joke about things only we laugh at in our stupidly fluffy robes. I couldn’t, so I just smiled and said, “This is really nice.”
So when people say things like your marriage will never be as sweet and fun as it is right now, they’re wrong.
Love is as sweet and spontaneous and wonderful as you make it. To be anything less is to be missing out, big time. Make time to be young kids again. I promise it’s worth it.
Cody was offered an amazing job located in Palo Alto, California, with the promise that he can work remotely and (with some conditions, of course) travel/live abroad. I am so excited for this change, mostly because he had started falling prey to “living half asleep” (see Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom)- coming home visibly uneasy and agitated, trying to find other things to keep him enthused, or simply subscribing to the idea that this was how life needed to be right now.
But I knew better. And, at the end of the day, so did he.
I will not allow Cody to be bogged down by the sadness of the world – how else will he help keep my own positivity afloat? Less self-servingly, though, I believe in my husband’s intelligence and zest for life too much to watch him surrender that joy to earn money that we can’t take with us when we go anyway (here he’ll argue that he’s creating a legacy for our family, blahblahblah. It’s not wrong; I’m just different).
I promised to love him in good times and bad – but I’m also allowed to show him when he’s in a bad time and help love him out of it.
Cody spent the last two weeks in California for his orientation. Thankfully, we’ve had practice in the Ways of Long-Distance Relationships.
For those who aren’t familiar, here are The Basics of Long-Distance Relationships
– Send a morning email to wish him well. Did you forget? Look at that, he owns a computer, too. With 2 hours difference between y’all, he picked up the slack.
– Continue on with your day. Get it, gurl.
– Ya gotta schedule a mid-day call. Check in. Say “hello,” “I love you,” and “Keep gettin’ ’em, tiger.”
– Live your independent daydreams. You’ll have more to talk about if you’re each doing your own thing(s) to the best of your abilit(ies).
– Good night video chat. Laugh, blow kisses, and fall asleep feeling loved.
Incredibly, it worked out that both of our best friends (ie our Maid of Honor and Best Man) were in San Francisco as well! I booked incredibly priced plane tickets and join them out there. It was perfect. When I was in San Francisco, I loved that he was more affectionate than ever. Or maybe I was just noticing it more.
And now, with him back home, I can’t stop appreciating the small gestures: a grazed neck with gentle fingertips here, a bear hug from behind there, and hugs that last as long as it takes.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I don’t think it’s a miracle that our relationship feels stronger than before – we put in the work while we were apart. It’s hard to fall apart when you keep showing up.
And I suppose that’s Marriage 101. Build a routine and have routine affection.
When Cody and I went through our first couple rounds of 21-questions, he asked me what I was most afraid of. I told him, “Failure.” A few years later, he wondered if my response had changed, and it had. I told him, “Losing you is my biggest fear.” And it was true. Any song, movie, or story that even alluded to a woman losing her best friend/soul mate/husband would make me fold into myself and cry as if he were already lost.
In fact, the fear was so strong that, a few weeks before we got married, I knew I had to get a hold of myself because the fear was not allowing me to fall for Cody completely. There was always a ‘what if’ – What if he dies before I do? What if I’m left all alone? What if I can’t manage this crazy life without my person by my side? If I was afraid of losing all of me with Cody, then I simply couldn’t give him all of me.
And that just wasn’t an option.
But now. This week. The last 10 days.
I’m not afraid anymore.
And it’s all because of Brad, Katie, and “No Bad Days.”
Background
I met Katie, then a freshman student at DePaul University, during a “Freshmen Connections” retreat that I helped lead as a senior student. She was bright, bubbly, open to the world, and told us enthusiastically about Brad, her boyfriend back home in Ohio. I myself had just wrapped up 2.5 years as a long-distance couple with Cody, so I was beyond thrilled that I had another soul in my life – a freshman girl, nonetheless – who was also intentionally choosing to remain loyal to her mate and would experience the similar ups and downs of the journey that I had. I remember encouraging her in my excitement, telling her that long distance is actually quite the blessing since you could be independent, but still fall-back on your partner when you needed him most. Four years later, Katie is graduated and back home in Ohio, but she’s not planning a wedding. In fact, she helped plan a beautiful funeral and told her best friend “goodbye.” When I received news that the funeral would be in Ohio on Wednesday morning, I couldn’t imagine not going. Turns out that going on that drive has completely altered my life.
Katie has generously and graciously shared her love story with me, so as I write my own reflections, it seems only right that Katie’s own words shine through, too (her story is in the block quotes).
It is Katie’s story, after all. I’m just reflecting on what her story is teaching me.
The Summer Katie and Brad Met – 2013
July 14, 2013, upon arriving back to my house, Brad said he knew I loved being treated like a princess and asked if I would like to be his. I think I squealed and jumped over to hug him before saying “Yes!”
The rest of the summer was wonderful, continuing to grow close to one another and learn about each other. I always had in the back of my mind that I would be leaving to move to Chicago in September, but I never had a doubt that we would still work.After meeting Brad, the possibility to not be with him never crossed my mind. I remember walking him to his car one night and talking outside for awhile. He said, “Sometimes you just know. And I just know.” We had fun that summer, we talked futuristically, we talked very honestly and frankly. There was a trust that instantly brewed (which I took advantage of as I explained a couple of weeks into our relationship that I was saving myself for marriage). I knew the expectations and normalcies of relationships at that time and felt comfortable enough to tell him about myself. Unlike ones before him, he understood. We carried that promise out throughout our four years but were absolutely thrilled to be married and share in that intimacy together.
I moved to Chicago and started school in September 2013. It was hard being away but we showed our maturity from the very beginning and made it work well. Brad visited often, spending most of our first trips checking out the most touristy spots that the city had to offer. We learned so much about the city together as we explored during his visits, and Brad quickly learned of my challenged sense of direction. I will never forget his second visit when we were lying in bed at the hotel and he told me that he was trying to come up with the words to tell me how he felt about me. Then, he said, he figured it out— “I love you, Katie.” Of course, I couldn’t just say it back. I liked to keep him on his toes. I hid under the blankets behind tears, saying I wanted to tell him on my own, that returning the statement right there was too easy and cheap. (I think I drove him crazy sometimes.) I did tell him that same weekend that I loved him. It’s funny that I waited because I knew I loved him from so early on.
Being long distance worked so well for us. This dynamic gave me the opportunity to focus on school and my activities while having the freedom to enjoy Brad when the time was right. It made me appreciate him so much more. I remember working extremely hard to get all my work done before he came to visit or before I went home so that I could fully enjoy him and his company. It’s amazing how much you value even a simple hug from someone you love when you haven’t seen them in days or weeks. Perhaps this is why ‘my perfect fit’ and I spent a lot of time cuddled up on a couch watching a movie or just talking when we would see each other. Brad was so supportive from afar. When I would be up late studying or working he would try to be right there with me encouraging me with text messages or phone calls. He was so good at seeing and reminding me of the end goal so that I could keep pushing forward, no matter how challenging the coursework or the schedule became.
I said all along that I loved being long distance. I am very independent and the balance that we found was perfect. Of course, now, sometimes I wish that I could’ve spent every day of those four years with him instead of being away.
There are so many different days and dates that I remember very vividly, (which I attribute to not having as many of them, being a long-distance couple). I remember concerts, sporting events, adventures in Chicago, family gatherings, building Beary Larkin, traveling to New York, our one-, two-, and three-year celebrations, dancing at the wedding, and so many more. They are easy to remember as they are some of the happiest moments of my life. Oddly enough, it’s also easy to remember one of the most difficult moments of my life—getting off the bus to Cincinnati on July 1, 2016 to learn that Brad had been diagnosed with leukemia. I will always remember arriving to Brad’s room at Good Samaritan Hospital and walking straight up to him to give and receive the biggest hug, coupled with Brad’s reassuring whispers of “I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be okay,” and I trusted him. I knew he was right. But now we had a third player in our relationship—cancer.
We talked a lot that night about what was to come for us. We both knew that Brad could beat cancer and we trusted his doctors and nurses to take care of him. That night, I remembered a saying that I had seen all over Cabo on vacation in the previous week: No Bad Days. It stuck with me then and seemed totally appropriate for what Brad was about to be going through. No Bad Days quickly became Brad’s motto and carried him through what could have been considered by onlookers to be bad days. That along with Fuego the dragon from Mexico were enough to keep Brad encouraged and strong through treatment. Brad didn’t need time to process what was going on, he just wanted to get started immediately.
Brad began chemotherapy treatment the next day, and in his typical fashion, proceeded with grace, strength and positivity. We went on like this for 6 months—spending one week in the hospital to receive chemotherapy and the rest of the weeks trying to recover, getting blood work, receiving blood transfusions, etc. Because Brad was so graceful and wonderful, we still made sure to have fun and enjoy each other during this process. We still went on dates, we still laughed, we still kissed, and we were still crazy in love. In fact, I believe that I fell more in love with Brad during this process.
….We grew so much closer and so much more dependent on one another during this time, and it was amazing to see what we could accomplish together. We were strong for each other, we covered each other’s weaknesses, and we made an amazing team. Of course, we wish cancer had not brought this out in us, but something had to. Before cancer, we felt invincible. During this journey we were knocked down, but we only grew stronger and it was amazing to witness.
Six months into this chemotherapy regimen, things were looking up. I had just completed my degree and would be back home in Cincinnati. Brad’s scans kept coming back normal and his doctor was preparing to release him early from treatment. By God’s grace, his doctor felt the call to perform a PET scan on Brad. We were disheartened but not broken completely to see the scan light up red at his shoulder joint, praying that the scan showed inflammation from a prior injury. Unfortunately, after a biopsy, we learned that cancer had found its way to the head of Brad’s shoulder. For the first time, I saw Brad break. His positive spirit was gone, his finish line slipped out from under him, and now more uncertainty with cancer in another part of his body. I had to be strong for him instead of the other way around. Everything changed; Brad who once wanted to know nothing about his diagnosis and treatment suddenly needed to know everything. His care was moved to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital in January of 2017.
Cancer-Free
Early on at Children’s, his treatment was relatively easy. It was a pain to have a 24-hour infusion that required constant access to a pump in a backpack, but it didn’t make him sick, his hair started to grow back, and some normalcy started to return to our life. Unfortunately, this month of inconvenience simply contained his cancer, but did not eradicate it. Our next step was going to be intense chemotherapy partnered with radiation. This was a long and tough month—radiation every day for four weeks, a week-long stay at the hospital to receive chemotherapy followed by a weekly visit in the following weeks for chemotherapy infusions and what seemed like trips to the clinic every day for some test or intervention. He spent this month sick, tired and sore, but then we reaped the rewards. On March 27, 2017, we rejoiced as Brad’s PET scan showed a body rid of cancer. Brad said until the very end that being able to see his clear scan was one of the greatest moments of his life. He had defeated cancer. He practically leaped down the steps at my house after a phone call with his doctor, announcing “I’m clear!” with one of his biggest smiles I had ever seen.
The coming weeks were mixed with celebrations and tests/meetings for the next step: bone marrow transplant. A donor from another country had agreed to donate his stem cells so that Brad could have a new immune system that would hopefully not allow for cancer to develop. We spent long days at the hospital for his tests and a long day reviewing the consents—how daunting it sounded; how confident Brad was.
We enjoyed the week of freedom—we saw two Cincinnati Reds games, we danced the night away at my cousin’s wedding, we ate Brad’s favorite dessert, the chocolate stampede, and we enjoyed one another’s company on a deeper level.
“Thank you. I love you.”
On April 10, 2017, we found ourselves ready to start this journey in the operating room to place Brad’s central line for cell transfusion. The pain and suffering began right away, especially as he jumped into full body radiation the next day. The first week in the hospital brought more radiation, high-dose chemotherapy, and horrific medications.
On April 20, 2017, Brad received his stem cells, followed by a long night of fevers and an upset stomach. It was difficult from the very beginning, but Brad remained positive. He thanked every care provider who came to him, no matter what they were doing or how he was feeling. I helped him through a lot of the symptoms associated with his transplant and after one particular helping, I remember him saying, “Thank you. I love you. I’m gonna be with you forever.” His mental status began to decline rather quickly, so we were rejoicing at even the smallest “Bradisms” that showed us he was still in there, like the kissy face he gave me sitting on the edge of the bed, or the requests to watch a movie cuddled up together. It was so difficult to see him so sick and in such pain. However, I was so happy to be able to be with him every day in the hospital. Soon he was in so much pain that he could not talk and we were left to hand signals and yes/no questions to try to help him. Then he became so tired that he could not stay awake through a conversation and I would hold him up as he sat at the edge of his bed. He made us laugh with occasional remarks, but it was difficult to be with him without being able to have a conversation with him. At times, he would get so anxious and it was so hard to not know how to help him. During one of his most anxious times, I had left to go to orientation for school. His social worker told me in those three days, the only way she could get him to calm down was to talk about me. We had developed a great system with one another and while it didn’t always seem to work, we generally comforted one another.
It was my last day of orientation, May 4, 2017, that Brad was transferred to the Intensive Care Unit for the first time. His kidneys and liver were failing. While it was upsetting to see him relying on so many machines to keep him alive, including a ventilator, it was so comforting to see him resting so peacefully. We still believed in Brad, though. We knew he would regain his strength and come back from this. It was a phone call that next day that Brad might not survive the weekend that introduced the possibility of a life without Brad, and I hated it. It was something I had never imagined and it broke my heart. It was then that I decided I would stay home from school and defer until the start of the next year. I knew Brad would be upset because he would never want to hold me back, but I felt that I had no choice but to be here and take care of him. Brad could not speak during his first days in the ICU because of his breathing tube, but he could and would respond to my voice. I lived to see him raise his eyebrows, blink and nod his head.
How would I go on without Brad, who had been my person for four years? I refused to believe it, but also found myself asking many questions about how I would know if it was his time and what it would be like if he did pass away.
In typical Brad fashion, he made an outstanding recovery—one of the most impressive that his ICU doctor had seen. I will always remember when they removed his breathing tube, how good it was to hear him say “Oh!” along with a sigh of relief. Brad, who had just previously laid in bed relatively motionless, was starting to speak and act more like himself. We tossed a ball, he could tell us how he was feeling, and one wonderful morning, he called me over and kissed my hand. I cherished every time he said “I love you” and all of his sweet quirks more than I ever had before.
We soon made our way back to the bone marrow unit and it was then that I realized how much I missed Brad. Yes, I saw him every day and every night in some of the most vulnerable positions that one could imagine, but it was never the Brad that I knew and loved. How long had it been since we had had an actual conversation? I wondered. How long had it been since we had hugged? All I wanted was to hug him—so simple. In what was once a perfectly normal relationship between two healthy people, it was extremely humbling to be reduced to getting excited when Brad said one word that he used to say—that is, if you could understand what he was saying—or raised his eyebrows or squeezed my hands in response to something I said or asked him. It is understandable why he became frustrated at times, but it was so difficult to see. Brad, who once hated to inconvenience anyone, was now fully dependent on the people around him.
Beefy-Five Layer
I spent the most time with him during the day and stayed with him every night. I saw all of his progress and all of his setbacks. The progress was so exciting, but the setbacks were crushing, truly heartbreaking. While Brad’s liver seemed to be healing, it didn’t seem that his kidneys would. As if that weren’t enough, he was being hit with one infection after another. His weak body just kept being kicked while he was down. His Bradisms would still shine through and keep me going, though. He requested odd foods, piggy back rides, help with stretching for Game 4 of the NBA finals, and more.One particular night, I thought he told me he wanted to be with me forever, but in fact, he wanted a beefy five layer. He showed his strength here, as he requested frequently to get up and go somewhere or just to get out of bed. While he couldn’t, it was so important to see his desire and drive to do so. I did everything I could for him, even turning his bed into a makeshift batting cage and waking up in the middle of the night to watch Captain America together. It was an honor to help his nurses clean him up or rub lotion on him, something I know he always liked. Sometimes it was finding anything I could do to help make him happier. Seeing him smile or laugh brought a newfound joy to my life, even though it was something that had been so easy for us in the past.
“Hi sweetheart!”
….One night, he called out for me and woke me up. I prepared myself, as his overnight requests were usually confusing and tough to understand. When I made my way over sleepily with a “Hi Brad,” he smiled and responded with an enthusiastic “Hi sweetheart!” I asked what he needed, and he held my hand and told me that he was just checking on me. We chatted for a couple of minutes before he fell back asleep. I am so happy I woke up to talk to him as this became our last conversation that we had. It is something that I will hold onto forever.
While we were back to the place where Brad could not speak because of his breathing tube, he was doing an amazing job responding to me. I will always remember when I got him to raise his eyebrows and wink for me. I will also always remember when his doctor was trying to get him to respond but wasn’t having luck. From afar, I spoke, involving his name, and she said he responded, asking me to speak again. There were others in the room, but it was my voice that stirred him up. I came to the bedside with his doctor and asked her question, immediately getting a response. She said she would always remember that.
Not Just a Girlfriend
My role as a girlfriend had taken on many names during Brad’s illness—I was his agent, his dentist, his personal nurse, his translator, and now I had to take on the most daunting one of all. I had to help Brad die. How do you help someone die who you do not want to die? I had loved Brad as well as I knew how, but how could I move forward with this “act of love” if it meant in the end that we would not be together? So I did it as best as I could figure. Brad’s nurses and doctors moved Brad to one side of his bed so that I could fit in there next to him and cuddle him, just as we had liked to do at our homes together. I figured the best way to help keep him comfortable was to take him to the place where he always told me he was the most comfortable. For two entire days, that was where I stayed. The child life specialist came and gave me a small stone with an engraved heart to hold between our hands and gather all of our memories—and you had better believe that I did. And you had better believe that stone is with me always—when I graduated from DePaul University last weekend, at Brad’s visitation and funeral, and now as I write this memoir. It was amazing what memories came to my mind as we laid in bed together those two days, ones I had not thought of in years.
It is difficult to decide what to say to someone you love as you know they are dying. I reminded him of many memories. I told him to come visit me, and that I couldn’t wait to see him again in heaven. I asked him to help me get to heaven when it was my time, and to be my guardian angel while I’m still here. I told him there are no bad days in heaven, that it is so much better there. I told him not to be scared. And I commended him for his strength and amazing fight, but told him it was okay to stop whenever he was ready. I never stopped holding his hand and feeling his heartbeat as I knew that I wouldn’t feel it for much longer. Sometimes he would open his eyes and show a response, but not always. And that was okay. He was surrounded by so many people who loved him in those finals days, and I know that meant the world to him. Some Cincinnati Reds players even came to pay him a visit. We could only imagine what he would’ve been saying to them if he could’ve spoken.
On the night of June 7, 2017, we knew Brad’s time was coming. His heart was spending more and more time in abnormal rhythms and his blood pressure was dropping quickly and steadily. Those were the moments that I had to explain truthfully how much I loved him. He opened his eyes briefly a few times. The last time he opened them, I knew it would be the last time I saw his eyes. He looked right at me and they looked so beautiful. I will never forget them. I couldn’t help but to smile at him and tell him how much I loved him. And then in the next moment he became an angel. June 7, 2017 at 11:20 PM, forty minutes before his twenty-sixth birthday, was when Brad went to God.
“I’m Going to Ohio.”
Our Catholic Campus Ministry community had bound together to pray for Katie and Brad the few days before we heard the heartbreaking news that Brad had passed, so I was already on high-alert. The moment I decided to drive to Ohio was the moment I saw that the funeral mass was going to be celebrated there. I had a few days to plan the logistics.
That weekend, I traveled to Chicago to walk at my graduation from DePaul University, something that I know Brad was very proud of me for. I took my Brad stone everywhere with me—to the baccalaureate mass, around the city, to the ceremony. He even was there on the bridge outside the Lincoln Park Zoo where we spent a lot of time together when I saw two wedding parties and a proposal. He is probably the one who held me back from pushing their asses over the edge of the bridge. Thank God for calming Brad.
Since being home from Chicago, we have celebrated Brad’s life through a visitation and funeral service, both which were overwhelmingly beautiful.
I was incredibly nervous for the visitation. This would be my first time seeing him in almost a week. It took me right back to the nerves that I had before our first date, which were excessive. But just like June 11, 2013, the first day that we met, I instantly felt calm and at peace when I saw him. He looked beautiful in his Reds jersey and his dark jeans with the torn-up belt. I again found myself reaching for his heartbeat, which I knew I wouldn’t feel. I was the last one to lay my eyes on him as I gave him some of his favorite belongings and helped close his casket. He still looked beautiful with it closed. It was overwhelming and amazing how many people came to pay their respects to Brad, and from how far they traveled to do so. We knew he was there with us, wiping our tears and laughing at the funny stories.
When I told Cody I would be going to the funeral, there was no “What? Why?” or “Isn’t that a little far to be going by yourself?” There was only understanding. I think his words were, “Yeah, that sounds like an Ania thing to do.” I don’t think it fully sunk in that I was really planning on going until Tuesday night, 15 minutes after I mentioned it would be about a 5.5 hour drive. “Oh! You’re really going!” he said. He made me promise I would pack an overnight bag in case I was too tired/emotionally drained to make it home the same day and stay in a hotel. We were trying to come up with reasons the night before I left why this was so important to me. The following list comes to you courtesy of hindsight.
Why I Went to Ohio
1. To show Katie I am with her. If this is my biggest fear, I can only imagine it’s shared similarly by many, many, many other people. Because I felt so connected to Katie after our retreats together, I knew that her love grew and her relationship with Brad probably developed very similarly to what I experienced with Cody, only more-so now that she was feeling Brad’s love in a completely different way than before.
2. Because it’s what I’d want my own friends to do. I’m a strong believer in treating others how I’d like to be treated. Living life this way can string along more disappointments than rewards, but I can’t imagine living any other way. I like to think that I’m building a tribe of people who will gather around me in my darkest hours, regardless of who I’m saying “good bye” to.
3. To face my fear. I literally drove towards the thing that used to make my blood turn to ice and start the unstoppable water works. Something told me that by seeing Katie and by being in the space that I was most dreading, I’d be a little closer to overcoming the paralysis of impending loss.
The drive itself was easy. The sun shone all the way until I was just outside the small town I’d be parking in. It poured heavily, so I slowed down enough to be safe, making it a few minutes into Katie’s eulogy for Brad. I was grateful for the tissues I remembered to pack with me. I needn’t have worried though, since others around were freely sharing their handkerchiefs.
The very next day, we celebrated his life at his funeral service. He brought us some rain to be funny before the ceremony began but cleared the skies when we moved to the gravesite. Sometimes I think he liked to see people get worked up over something so simple.
The funeral service was beautiful. My sighs and tears were met with those of perfect strangers and friends from DePaul that I hadn’t seen in a couple years. We christened that church floor and really did make it holy ground.
The part that threatened to change my relatively quiet crying into the stuff of tubas, though, was during the Sign of Peace when the mood in church suddenly shifted and I knew without seeing that Katie had gone to Brad for a sign of peace. How conflicting is it to know your best friend can’t hold your hand anymore, but feel so equally grateful that he is no longer in pain? When I saw Katie go back to her pew, gracefully seated between her father and her soulmate, I couldn’t stop the rush of unfairness, anger, and pure sorrow that I felt. This girl should be in the aisle to marry this man, not bury him.
I had my fantasies about what our wedding would have been like. I so looked forward to walking down the aisle to Brad, hoping I could bring forth a couple of tears from him. I never imagined that our chance to move down the aisle together would be for his funeral and that it would be so soon. Even so, it felt beautiful. All that mattered was that we were together, and I know that he was there with me. Immediately following his procession, I had the opportunity to give Brad’s eulogy. With my Brad stone in hand, I let him speak through me and I think I said exactly what he would’ve wanted. He helped me add in some bits of information in the moment that hadn’t previously crossed my mind; he helped me stay strong and poised; in the funny moments,I could hear his laughter and in the difficult moments I could feel his arms wrapped around me telling me to keep going.
It was so special that Father Pat McDevitt was with us at the visitation and funeral. He had agreed to marry Brad and me. He spoke of the beauty of Brad’s death and the opportunity that it provides to us. He spoke of Brad’s outstanding traits and his No Bad Days way of life. He spoke of the days that Brad will help us come into the kingdom when we are called, and of the days that we will see him again. He gave me the opportunity to venerate Brad’s casket before moving on to the cemetery, one last chance to feel like I was lying with him and keeping him comfortable.
I had told Cody before I left that I didn’t expect Katie to speak with me much, or even to hold a conversation with anyone in particular. I just wanted my presence to be a symbol of the prayers that not only I, but many others, have prayed for her strength, peace, and comfort that defies all understanding. Sure enough, the prayers must have been working because Katie’s grace and stoicism defied my understanding. She walked with Brad to his place of rest and watched as those who love Brad and his family surrounded them in a circle.
I was standing in the farthest row back, but could see Katie pretty well. A few moments later, the two men in the front row separated to create a window and a path that flowed freely between me and Katie. She had just been scanning the crowd, probably memorizing as much as she could of the people who rallied for Brad one last time, and stopped when she saw my face. It was worth the effort to be there when I saw her face light up into a big smile. I did my best to blink my tears away, to show her that I could be strong for her if she couldn’t be, but found my eyes sparkling as I pursed my lips into a playful kissy face. I know she felt the love and support then, and that was really enough for me.
Following Fr. Pat’s final comments, Katie announced that we would be releasing balloons, more symbols of prayer and well-wishes for our friend Brad, who we believe is now experiencing the “No Bad Days” magic of heaven. I thought this was a beautiful tribute and found my voice catch again when I saw Katie’s balloon was different than everyone else’s. While others had light blue or silver balloons, Katie’s was white. Like a wedding dress. Like, this shouldn’t be happening, this is all wrong, somebody make this stop.
But then I stopped myself. They have already experienced a deeper love than many married couples can claim. They have lived their marriage vows and didn’t even need an official ceremony to prove it.
And this is how I know Katie will be okay.
The true beauty of marriage, I think, is knowing that no matter what I mess up or mis-take or how vulnerable I feel, Cody will be there to help me pick up the pieces. No matter how badly I feel I’m losing, Cody will lift my chin with his finger and remind me that I am worth something and that I cannot give up.
I know Katie has felt this, too. It’s evident in how she holds herself with confidence and grace and love. She reaches out to the world with wide open hands because she knows that, even if she becomes burned, she will have the love of her family, friends, and Brad’s boundless love to heal her. She will continue to be a light in the world despite such tremendous loss because that love doesn’t just go away. I truly do believe the love that Brad has shown Katie will continue to inspire her, guide her, direct her, console her, and caress her. The love Brad showed Katie will keep her eyes open to the good of the world. She has already tasted some of the sweetest gifts of life, but now that she knows that taste, she’ll recognize it when she tastes it again. And she will.
It was evident when her strong voice rang around us – “1! 2! 3!”
And everyone together, whoever could speak, joined in, “NO BAD DAYS!”
Katie’s single white balloon had written on it, “No Bad Days. <3 Katie”
At the cemetery, we released light blue and silver balloons to Brad. My white balloon separated from the rest, a sign of how unique and special our love is. Immediately following, the sky opened up and the sun shone through, a “thank you” from Brad for the beautiful balloons and another reassurance that “I am okay.”
It was hard to leave Brad’s gravesite—I knew that would be the last time I saw the beauty of his casket. All I could stare at was the ribbon on his flower spray that read “Love of my life Katie.” Of course, even lowered into the ground with dirt piled high, Brad looked beautiful. I especially thought so after we adorned his grave with flowers.
The Real Hindsight, (or What I learned from Katie and Brad)
– I have hope that life will continue even if my Plan A doesn’t work out. In fact, Sheryl Sandberg (COO of Facebook) wrote the book Option B following the death of her husband. I have such faith that, if something as life-altering were to happen in my life, that those around me would also find their own special ways to help guide me through the grief. Because it’s not a new thing, and I believe wisdom and healing can flow from person to person in magical ways. Katie is open enough to the world that she will be able to recognize and receive this love and guidance when it finds her.
– I now know that I can drive to Ohio and back in one day, which makes me feel independent and badass.
And so I’m not as afraid of death anymore because I believe so fiercely in the resilience and goodness of my friend. She, though four years younger than I, has already been a testament that death is not the end of love, or life, or good. It is a milestone to be sure, but not one to be feared. The days we have on this earth are limited, but there are no real Bad Days. There are only Days that we are blessed to have and share with others. And as Brad said, “There are no bad days in heaven. If that makes sense.”
It makes complete sense, Brad. Thank you for loving Katie so fiercely. And thank you, Katie, for teaching me that the love I share with my best friend today will only continue to grow tomorrow, even if I’m not able to hold his hand.
Today is June 19, 2017. Brad died twelve days ago and his funeral and burial were five days ago. I still have not gone to see him. His parents have been several times and some of my family members have gone as well. I think the reason I haven’t gone yet is because I don’t feel like I have to. I do not have to go to the grave to talk to Brad. I talk to him all the time. I thank him for things, ask him questions, and sometimes just plain talk to him. I know that he hears me and that he looks out for me. He was always so concerned for my safety and wellbeing while he was here with me, and I know that will continue while he is in heaven. I love days like today that are sunny with bright blue skies and some puffy clouds because I know he has found the comfiest cloud in heaven to rest upon. Sometimes, especially when I am praying, I feel him wrap his arms around me from behind, something he always used to do when he was here.
As someone explained to me, it is so hard to lose someone at this time in life and in our situation because my future has been affected as well. He was my plan and it didn’t really matter to me how anything else worked out. I always knew I had Brad with me, which was why I could believe in No Bad Days. I still believe it and want to live my life according to it, but now it’s more of a challenge without such a pivotal piece. Brad always knew I liked a challenge, so I know he’ll enjoy watching me work through this one. I often find myself wondering what will come next. I think this is why it drives me crazy right now when people ask me what’s next. I have too many questions for myself and their rushing questions make me want to scream.
This is where I have to trust that Brad is with me and will help me figure out my questions. Maybe not today or tomorrow or in a year from now, but someday. He will know when I am ready just like he always did when he was here.
We thanked each other during our time here together, but I feel as though I should again. Thank you, Brad for the most, fun, easy, enjoyable, beloved four years of my life. Most relationships weren’t as easy as ours, something we always reveled in. It was truly remarkable and wonderful, one of a kind.
I loved Brad so dearly here on Earth. I fell more deeply in love with him every day he was healthy, more deeply when he became sick, more deeply the first time I thought I was losing him, more deeply when he died in my arms, more deeply when I spoke about him at the funeral, and more deeply every day since for all that he has continued to do for me. A guardian angel is a tough job, but I trust in mine and love him more than I can put into words. He always loved when I tripped over my words and “talked myself in circles” trying to explain something, so I know he is laughing at me now. While it’s frustrating because I want to be able to explain it, I know some things go beyond explaining and understanding.
I know wherever life takes me, he will be with me. I know I will never stop loving him, not even for one second. He is in my heart, in the air I breathe, and all around me. I know he will stay there forever. There are no bad days in heaven, my angel Brad.
For whatever reason, it’s been really tough getting back in the swing of things with Cody after my Montana trip this year. Last year, we fell right back into being love birds and enjoying each other’s company after so much time apart. I had come back super rejuvenated and ready to tackle on whatever summer projects came my way, but this year after the 10-day excursion, I was beat and needed extra love and attention.
Unfortunate for present Ania but great for Future Ania and Cody, Cody’s TLC was going towards his baby side-business. While I was gone, there was no one to remind him that night-time meant sleepy-time and so it was a free-for-all and he had tons of momentum on his side from productive nights and busy days.
Present Ania does not like this momentum, however, because somehow this man’s incredible work ethic avoided the laundry machine. This meant he didn’t do 10-days worth of laundry. And I just brought all of my dirty clothes home.
I put on my patient face and calmly asked through gritted teeth why.
He very nicely reminded me that he hates doing the laundry. And, by the way, his white t-shirts are running low.
And then I won the day because I simply blinked instead of throwing a pan (lovingly) at his face and avoided telling him that adulthood is basically doing all the things you hate. But then I realized I’d sound bitter and would probably be taken in by police for questioning for claims of assault and battery (again – ask me about this when I’m drunk) and I’m trying to be a more positive person.
I did the laundry this week (because someone was running low on white t-shirts) and Cody even helped fold it. How nice.
I feel like he’s going to grumble (and I wouldn’t be playing fair) if I didn’t point out that he did clean up the living room and put some of the not-put-away clothes from TWO WEEKS AGO in the closet, so I can’t say he didn’t contribute to the housekeeping cause. I think there were even some washed dishes in there. I know he helped clean the cupboards a bit and ate some more peanut butter. It was expiring*.
I write this with dripping sarcasm and hyperbole because it’s fun, and because Cody really does hate doing the laundry. I’m actually proud of him for sticking to his convictions. I married a man of steel will and commitment. Not many wives can say the same.
In all seriousness, this is something of an unwritten agreement between us: he washes my gross leftover tupperware containers and any pots and pans with beans in them, and I take one for the team and do all the laundry.**
Ready for the exhaustingly positive twist that I’m about to whip out? I can’t really truly complain because at least I have a Cody to yell at about laundry, and I’m more grateful that he’s alive and breathing.
I just wish he’d use that breath to do laundry more than once a year.
Maybe that’ll be my anniversary gift this year.
*ten years from now, because if Cody were Chuck Norris, he’d eat the peanut butter before it was even a tree. Peanuts grow on trees, right? This is summertime, what I am doing thinking?
**…Does this now make it a written agreement? Did I just screw myself? Or is this a win? I hate washing beans from things. Gross.
I’m on a school trip away from Cody for ten days, chaperoning eight high schoolers with three other adults. But there’s only one day that was severely testing my patience and eternal optimism.
I’ll only tell you about the relevant instances of this day though.
I was walking across the schoolyard (with gravel beneath my feet rather than wood-chips or astroturf for preschoolers) and kept my eyes down to see where I was going. Gravel or no gravel, my balance is something that I can never fully rely on, so I kept peripheral vision near the southern hemisphere. This was a mistake as I walked – no, escorted – my forehead into the horizontal monkey bar. This hurt.
I iced it and survived.
But then my sunglasses broke. Out of nowhere. But cleanly, so “they didn’t feel a thing,” as one colleague stated. This made me sad, especially because I knew I’d really need shades for our hikes and I didn’t know where to acquire a pair of new ones on the Native American reservation we were on that week.
Later, the students asked me if I was okay because they can be sweet when they want to be and I simply responded, “I wish my sunglasses had broken when I had walked into the pole. That’d be a way better story.” The kids looked at me like I was crazy, but I meant what I said. I’m an English major – I have a desire for all the symbols crashing into meaning at once. In this case, my glasses breaking were a symbol of the lack of eyesight that led my face to become best friends with metal.
But I digress. Congrats to those still reading. You’re the real MVP, and I’m a real rambler.
SO when I talked to Cody later to tell him about my ‘bad’ day, he asked, “Did you break your glasses walking into the pole?” And as much as I wanted to lie and say yes, all I could do was grin at his response. He’s my guy because he completely gets what makes sense to me (us).
And if this doesn’t make any sense to you, well, I guess that’s the point.
At the beginning of any potential relationship, I take my sweet time. I meticulously observe the person I’m getting to know and wonder how their character will manifest itself in the variety of environments we might be in together. I started this very deliberately in high school. The girl who became my maid of honor was a volleyball try-out friend first, then a classroom partner, then a lunchroom buddy, and then a best friend. Our relationship grew slowly, but intentionally. I talked, and Kristen listened. And then she talked, and I practiced listening better. Kristen was with me every step of the way during my long-distance relationship with Cody, and she always supported me, even if she thought I was being crazy. She let it all out during her speech at the wedding though, so I think we’re even now.
I always told myself my high expectations for people was a great thing. I told myself I was doing this meticulous character inspection because I was a smart girl and smart girls have high expectations. I enforced these high expectations and reaped some benefits: a few amazing friends and a stellar husband. And then I found the flaw in this approach when it didn’t work out in my favor.
According to the old adage, I am who my friends are. So, if I was a stubborn ninny who immediately gave up on someone once they showed a weakness and flaw in character, so would my friends. One of my dearest friends has become a stranger to me because we do not yet have the grace to forgive each other and move on. But this is a blog about wife reflections and not friend problems, so let’s get to the point.
This high expectations approach might work in attaining the type of person you want as a life partner, but it no longer works if you want to stay married.
I mess up on a daily basis. Despite my manicured, witty performances outside of the home, I say the wrong things and show my flaws recklessly. When it comes to Public Ania and Cody’s Ania, Cody’s Ania is a lot messier, way more insecure, selfish, and needy. By the end of the day, I really do wonder how such a good guy like Cody would want to stay with me, one who has so much to work on? But let’s be real – despite all these hiccups, I still expect him to breathe and understand. He vowed to stick around through thick and thin, right? I’m not as thin as I was in high school, and I’m layered in complexes and anxieties galore. But he still loves me, and that expectation is embossed on solid foundation.
BUT here’s the twisted part. When he has his own slip up, I get upset, wonder what I was thinking seven years ago, and find it difficult to award the same grace and forgiveness. It’s a terrible double-standard and I’ve been working on this since the beginning of our relationship.
When I maintain these almost too-difficult and too-high expectations for my husband, I am not allowing him to be his true, flawed, perfect self. It’s true when they say that there really is no perfect person – just the person you choose to love despite those quirks. Shoot, you even learn to find the quirks endearing (see Bridget Jones’ Diary for an example).
I’ve decided this week that, if I keep my expectations lower, I’m way less disappointed, much more delighted when things go well, and able to focus more on how I’m giving to the relationship and less on what I’m not getting. To be clear, this doesn’t mean I forsake my own wants and desires and needs. It just means I look at my husband’s calloused hands before I demand a massage of my own.
“O Master, Grant that I may never seek
so much to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
and to love, as to love with all my soul.”
– Prayer of St. Francis
This last Tuesday was a really long day. I came home briefly, saw Cody for a hot second, and told him I would be back in 25 minutes. Even though 8pm was approaching and I’d been working for a good 12 hours, I had one last errand to run. When I FINALLY came home for the evening, there was a hot, nutritious meal ready for me, tea waiting for me, and a big bear hug wrapping itself around me. If I had spent the whole day expecting that he’d do all the laundry, keep the house clean, and make dinner, I would have been setting him up for massive failure. He worked all day, too, after all. Instead, I focused on the immediates in front of me and I felt taken care of and forgiven for that day’s flaws. Wow. God’s love manifested indeed.
A quote from our perpetual couple calendar says, “Give 90% of yourself to your spouse and expect only 20% in return.” I scoffed at it the first time I read it because us independent women should have high expectations. But, after almost two years of marriage, I realize that it’s not fair to expect everything of him all the time. We’re not dating any more, where we would have some days apart and he’d have days to plan these extravagant adventures. Instead, we plan together as we weave through the day-to-day blessings of ordinary life, and although this sometimes feels less glamorous and romantic, it is definitely real.
By granting my husband the grace of low expectations, his choice to give of himself then becomes a true gift of sacrificial love.
This week, it felt like we were at the beginning of our relationship rather than 9 years and almost 2 years of marriage in, reveling in the beauty of our friendship, the laughter, and the memories being made right now.
Sometimes it’s just easy. I don’t have to wonder or second-guess anything, or ask why something wasn’t put away where it should have been, or be uncomfortable with difficult conversations because the most difficult thing to decide is what kind of ice cream we want for dessert.
Sometimes, it just feels good. It feels right. It feels like no one else on the planet will understand me like he does.
I talk a lot about how relationships require lots of work and maintenance and nurturing. It also takes a lot of work to grow plants and trees. But at some point, you literally get to taste the fruit of your labors.
And, if you’re really lucky, you’ll get this feeling most of the time. And boy, is it sweet.
