I’m 7 months pregnant, exhausted, and drowning in pain. When I told my husband Doug I was thinking of quitting work to rest, he scoffed, “You’re just being lazy. My mom worked until the DAY she gave birth to me. Women can handle pregnancy and careers. You’re using it AS AN EXCUSE.”

I was stunned. But I didn’t argue. I smiled and said, “You’re right. I’ll push through.”

And then I planned my revenge. Step one? First, I booked Doug a “surprise.”

The next morning, I woke up early, well before Doug, and went straight to my phone. I booked him a “surprise” weekend getaway. I knew he wouldn’t be thrilled—he’s always the type to act like a “tough guy,” never wanting to admit he needed a break. But, I knew something he didn’t.

The surprise wasn’t going to be some relaxing vacation. It was a weekend-long team-building retreat—his worst nightmare.

Doug is a great guy, but he’s not the best at handling stress, especially in group situations. The idea of being thrown into a series of team-building exercises, talking through his feelings, and doing trust falls made me smile. I couldn’t wait to see him try to get through it without rolling his eyes every two minutes.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I told him. He was finishing his breakfast when I dropped the bomb.

“I booked us a weekend getaway for next month,” I said casually.

Doug raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what?”

“Yup. I thought we both could use a break. It’s all planned. You’ll love it.” I gave him a big smile, trying to hide my amusement.

Doug squinted suspiciously. “Wait, is this one of those ‘team-building’ things where they make you ‘open up’ and talk about feelings? Because if it is, I’m not going.”

“Oh, it’s exactly that kind of thing. But it’s for both of us. We’ll be bonding in all kinds of ways.”

He groaned. “You really know how to ruin a weekend, huh?”

I just shrugged, suppressing my laughter. Doug had no idea what was coming. I had one more thing up my sleeve. The real surprise was that I had already booked a separate spot for myself at the same retreat. I’d be attending, too. I figured if he was going to call me lazy, I might as well show him what it was like to be in my shoes.

The weekend finally arrived. Doug tried to back out at the last minute, but I wasn’t having it. We drove to the retreat, and the entire time, he grumbled under his breath. “I’m only doing this for you. This is stupid.”

But, as we pulled up to the retreat center—a rustic, old cabin tucked in the woods—Doug’s demeanor shifted. It was clear the place was quiet and serene, exactly what he needed. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

We checked in and were given our schedules. The first activity was a “mindfulness walk,” which Doug hated from the moment he read the description. I watched him sulk as we joined the rest of the group on a hike through the woods, trying to “connect” with nature.

The retreat staff encouraged us to take a few minutes at various points during the walk to reflect on our thoughts and share them with our group. Doug’s face was like stone, but I could tell he was secretly curious about the whole thing.

At one stop, the guide asked everyone to partner up. Doug, being Doug, didn’t want to pair with anyone, so I volunteered to be his partner.

“Alright, Doug,” I said softly, “We’re gonna share what we’re grateful for today. You first.”

He looked at me like I was asking him to perform brain surgery. “What? This is ridiculous. But… fine. I guess… I’m thankful for this moment right now because it’s quiet, and I can just shut off for a while.”

I smiled. “That’s good, Doug. You’re doing great.”

He sighed. “You’re really doing this, huh? Turning me into one of those people who talks about gratitude and feelings?”

“Hey,” I said, nudging him. “You’re not being forced to do anything. But maybe, just maybe, this is exactly what you need. I’m glad we’re here.”

The next activity involved trust falls. When Doug was asked to fall backward and let his partner catch him, I knew it was coming. His face went pale.

“You’re not making me do this,” he said, wide-eyed. “You can’t make me fall. I don’t trust anyone enough for that.”

But I insisted, encouraging him to at least try. After a few moments of hesitation, he finally allowed himself to fall back, and, of course, I caught him easily. He looked at me, stunned.

“See?” I said with a grin. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Doug, for the first time that weekend, gave me a sincere smile. “You’re right. I wasn’t sure if I could trust anyone to catch me, but you did. I guess that’s something.”

It wasn’t just the trust fall. It was the whole weekend. Slowly but surely, Doug began to relax. He started talking to the other participants, laughing with them, and even sharing his thoughts during group activities. By the end of the weekend, I saw a side of Doug I hadn’t seen in a long time. He was less tense, more open, and, dare I say it, even a little bit introspective.

But the most surprising moment came as we were leaving. Doug turned to me with a soft smile. “I get it now,” he said, as we walked to the car. “I know you’ve been doing a lot, and I guess I’ve been a little hard on you. I’m sorry. Maybe I was wrong to call you lazy.”

I looked at him, surprised. “It’s okay, Doug. I just wanted to show you what it’s like to step back and take a breather. We all need it sometimes.”

He nodded. “I think I needed this more than I realized. And I’ll make sure to help more with things at home.”

The months that followed weren’t without challenges. Doug and I worked together more as a team, and I learned to communicate my needs more clearly. I didn’t quit my job entirely, but I did ask for a more flexible schedule. Doug, now more understanding, supported me through the remainder of my pregnancy.

When our daughter was born, Doug was there, fully present, in a way I’d never seen before. He took time off work, helped with the house, and even learned how to cook a few meals. We weren’t perfect, but we had a deeper understanding of one another.

I didn’t need to quit my job to prove a point, but what mattered was that Doug learned that pregnancy wasn’t just a physical journey—it was emotional and mental, too. And the love and respect we showed each other through that journey made all the difference.

Life Lesson: Sometimes, it takes a little bit of discomfort to make a person realize what truly matters. In relationships, understanding each other’s struggles and learning to support one another is key. It’s not always about making the right choice, but about growing together.

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