• Home
  • Blog
  • About
  • Contact
  • Book
    • Email
    • Facebook
    • Instagram
    • Pinterest
    • Twitter

Brittany L. Bergman

Savoring motherhood, building marriage, and living simply

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • Twitter

I’m on Your Side

Jul 19 24 Comments

I don’t know when it happened. It must have been incrementally, between the diaper changes and the handoffs as one of us went to work, between running to the grocery store and running the dog around and running to another appointment. This space developed, the one they warned us about before we got married, but it doesn’t look like they said it would. It doesn’t feel rocky but it does feel sharp. This space between us is more like a valley — steeply sloping but still pretty on the outside, covered in grass and a few flowers as we treat each other with kindness and respect.

But we’re on separate mountains, looking at each other across this valley. We’re calling for the other but our voices get muffled and garbled and nothing comes out sounding like we want it to. And the longer these little misunderstandings go on, however innocent they are, the more it feels like we’re in opposition to one another.

On the day we said, “I do,” I thought I held the key to our happiness: we just had to stay on the same team. I carried this idea like a treasure, feeling wise and mature and on top of this marriage thing. I pulled out this advice, fixing it like a lens, when we didn’t see eye to eye on finances or the timing of having a child, reminding myself of our shared goals for our family. When Selah was born, I leaned heavily on this advice again. In the early days of trying to figure out all the things — feeding schedules and nap times and how much stimulation is too much stimulation and how to swaddle so she couldn’t break free — I reminded myself that we both wanted a healthy, thriving baby and to be healthy, thriving people. Shared goal, same team, same side.

But somewhere along the way, I tucked this lens away in the closet, letting it gather dust, deeming it sweet but naive. And I guess that’s when the space started to open up.

***

A few weeks ago, I scheduled an appointment to get my hair cut and colored. It had to be a long appointment to do both —three hours — and I knew I’d have to ask you to stay home with Selah. We miscommunicated about the time of the appointment and didn’t realize it until that very day, and in light of some similar recent events, I felt like the victim. This is why I’m so tired. This is why I can’t do anything nice for myself. This is why I always get the shaft.

It’s not that I thought you had done it on purpose — the miscommunication was just as much my fault — but somehow I still felt like the universe was out to get me. I used you as my scapegoat, like I have dozens of times already this year. His work schedule is the reason I never get a break. He’s the reason my life is hard. It makes me feel icky and selfish to even write these things when they are so far from the truth.

I hate myself for letting these thoughts take up any space in my mind. For one thing, it was only a hair appointment, and for another, all you’ve ever wanted to do is partner with me in the mundane and the monumental moments. I’m not saying you’re flawless or have done everything right these last few months. But I am saying you don’t deserve to be thought about in a way that is a gross misrepresentation of reality, whatever the lens.

I hear my tone when I speak to you sometimes, and I think, I’d never talk to a friend that way.

I hear my words, sharp and clipped, and I think, I’d never dream of saying that to my mom.

I made you the enemy, and I’m so terribly sorry.

***

We’re coming up to our four-year anniversary this week, kind of a boring number. With all the life change we’ve been through since that hot July day in 2013 — changing careers and buying a house and a getting a dog and bringing a whole new person into the world — it feels like we’ve been married at least seven years, maybe twelve. But really, we haven’t even made it to the first big milestone of five years. Four seems uneventful and dull, not unlike the way our rings have dulled from everyday wear and use and exposure to the elements.

While I wouldn’t say we are happier than ever (though we are generally happy together), I’m starting to realize that “happier than ever” is not the same as “stronger than ever.” Our marriage is durable and beautiful and strong — despite this disorienting place we currently find ourselves in — because we keep adding threads to the tapestry. Our marriage certainly isn’t on the rocks. I think it just needs a little polish, a few steps toward each other. We need to confidently take strides down our respective mountains, finding a way to meet in this uncharted middle and make our way together.

So here’s one small step toward you that I’ll commit to taking: I’m going to pull that advice out of the closet, brush off the dust, and try it on again. I’m going pluck out my current lens — the one that feels a little gray and grimy and — and replace it with the lens that enables me to see you as a teammate. I used to think this lens was rose colored, and perhaps it is — but maybe a rose-colored lens is not so much naive as it is generous. Maybe looking through it is like looking through love, which covers a multitude of sins — including mine.

I’m going to keep taking steps toward you, however much my selfishness tells me not to, however much it tells me to retreat and make you close the distance. I’d rather be on your side than keep even a shred of my pride.

When we said I do, I promised to always be on your team. But somehow in 4 years of marriage, buying a house, changing jobs, and having a baby, we ended up on opposite sides. This is my story of miscommunication, thinking ugly thoughts, and replacing my distorted lens with one that helps me see my husband clearly. // marriage, motherhood, parenting, communication, goals, married life, newlyweds, wedding

Share the love:

  • Share
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)

Related

Filed Under: Marriage Tagged With: communication, goals, love, marriage, parenting, relationships

« Always a Battle
Armchair Chats // Waiting for Summer »




I'm so glad you're here. This space is all about encouraging women to live simply and intentionally, savor motherhood, choose gratitude, and find sacredness in the everyday moments. I hope you'll grab your cuppa choice and stay a while. I'd love to get to know you.
  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • Twitter
Do you want to be more intentional about how you mother and how you care for yourself?
Subscribe today for encouragement and support!


brittanylbergman

Brittany L. Bergman
✔️ Kamala shirt ✔️ Kamala pearls ✔️ Ka ✔️ Kamala shirt
✔️ Kamala pearls
✔️ Kamala mug 
✔️ Kamala curls

It’s a great day to witness the shattering of a glass ceiling, to embrace empathy and decency, and to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

The work is only just beginning, but today, we celebrate. Congratulations, President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris! 👏🏼🎉💙
What a beautiful, exhausting, festive, heartbreaki What a beautiful, exhausting, festive, heartbreaking, cozy, chaotic-but-strangely-quiet Christmas we had. ✨🎄✨

That’s a wrap for me on 2020—I’ll be off social media until sometime in January. May you be filled with peace and hope as we close this year but still wait for the close of this chapter in our history. 💜
I have faced Christmases full of grief and loss; d I have faced Christmases full of grief and loss; depression and rage; exhaustion and loneliness. But I can honestly say this is the weariest Christmas I can remember. I say that not to shine a spotlight on me, but to say that I have a feeling this might be your experience too. I’m with you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
And so the words to my favorite Christmas hymn hit me different this year. They resonate in a place much deeper, more tender and true than ever before. I rejoice in the giggles of my meltdown-prone child. I rejoice in stolen moments alone in the dark, the room lit only by the glow of the Christmas tree. I rejoice in every video and every social media post I see of a frontline worker receiving the COVID vaccine, our ticket out of this nightmare. I rejoice in the vision that next Christmas might look more familiar than this one does. I rejoice in the hope of Christ, whose universal, creative, motherly love holds the whole universe together.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
On this Christmas Eve, I’ll leave you with this quote from Howard Thurman. I hope these words bring a slant of light to your day.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
“The symbol of Christmas—what is it? It is the rainbow arched over the roof of the sky when the clouds are heavy with foreboding. It is the cry of life in the newborn babe when, forced from its mother’s nest, it claims its right to live. It is the brooding Presence of the Eternal Spirit making crooked paths straight, rough places smooth, tired hearts refreshed, dead hopes stir with newness of life. It is the promise of tomorrow at the close of every day, the movement of life in defiance of death, and the assurance that love is sturdier than hate, that right is more confident than wrong, that good is more permanent than evil.”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Whatever and however you celebrate at this time of year, I’m sending you all my love and peace. 💫
I found my Christmas spirit this weekend, just in I found my Christmas spirit this weekend, just in the nick of time.

I baked cookies with Selah without getting frustrated (first time ever?), took the kids on drive to see Christmas lights, and wrapped a bunch of gifts.

But here’s what I think did the trick, and please do steal this idea (because I stole it from someone else but have no idea who): Magical Movie Night™️.

On Saturday night, I stealthily placed a golden ticket under Selah’s pillow (which I printed from the internets and colored quickly with a yellow marker; good enough is good enough for Magical Movie Night!). We put Eamon to bed and got Selah ready for bed too, going through all the normal motions of brushing teeth, putting on pajamas, picking out a book. When we climbed into bed, I told her to look under her pillow.

She was confused when she found the ticket, and I told her it was for a Christmas movie night. “When?” she asked. “Right now!” I said. “What do you mean ‘right now’?” When it dawned on her that she was going to stay up past her bedtime to have a special movie night with Mommy and Daddy (sans Eamon), she lost her mind with excitement.

Bonus: Gramma was waiting downstairs with a bag of popcorn and Swedish Fish!

We snuggled under blankets, turned on Elf, and laughed our festive butts off. (This was her first time watching Elf, and it felt like the dawning of a new era. It’s such a big kid movie! And she loved it! Hold me. 😭)

Deck the halls, bring on Christmas, fill my mug with holly jolly goodness. 

I also acknowledge this has been a crappy year in so many ways, and I know many of you are not going to be able to access Christmas cheer this year. That’s okay. The real spirit of Christmas is light breaking through the dark, love making a way, and the beauty that can’t help seeping through the dirty, messy, horribly human moments of our lives. So you’re covered.

(And if you want to fake it ’til you make it, give Magical Movie Night a try. It’s the actual easiest.)
In which I couldn’t come up with a clever captio In which I couldn’t come up with a clever caption. There are signs of life but my brain is dead. 💀
“This is what I find most mystifying about Adven “This is what I find most mystifying about Advent: the period of waiting ultimately ends in great joy, but we can’t get to that great joy without intense, active, unbearable pain. In Advent we sense the mingling of anticipation and anxiety, excitement and disappointment, joy and pain, hope and fear.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
“On this side of history, we have the luxury of waiting with great hope, great joy, and great expectation. We know Jesus will be born, we know he will save us and redeem us, we know he will die and rise again, and we know he will set all things right one day.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
“But before Christ came, Advent was dark. It was lonely and unknown, as the Israelites waited in faith to hear from God, and all they got was… nothing. Silence.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
“Isn’t this more characteristic of the waiting we usually do? The waiting seasons of our lives are less often marked by joy and hope and more often marked by pain and fear. They are not often cozy or comforting but difficult and dark and even laborious.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
“We wait as a pregnant mother waits for her child to be born—there’s a vision of the joy to come, to be sure, but in the throes of gut-wrenching labor pains, we think we might actually die before we see that joy fulfilled. After a long season of pregnancy, when the fullness of time has arrived, the advent of labor ushers in the real period of waiting—and it is active and painful and raw.”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
// From “In the Fullness of Time,” a new blog post on @first15. There’s a link in my bio to the whole piece, with thoughts on pregnancy, Advent, and waiting well in an exceptionally hard year. 💜 Thank you so much to @first15 for publishing this post!
Load More... Follow on Instagram

Disclaimer

Brittany L Bergman is a for-profit blog. Any company that I collaborate with is chosen by me and fits the theme and readership of my blog. At times, posts may contain affiliate links or sponsored content, which is never at any charge to you.

Archives

Copyright Brittany L Bergman © 2021
Blog Design + Development by Grace + Vine Studios

This website uses cookies to provide you with the best browsing experience.

Find out more or adjust your settings.

Brittany L. Bergman
Powered by  GDPR Cookie Compliance
Privacy Overview

This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognizing you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful.

You can adjust all of your cookie settings by navigating the tabs on the left hand side.

Strictly Necessary Cookies

Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings.

If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again.