It's Saturday night here in my household. Not that it's another night in anyone else's household, I'm just making a note of it. The kids are all finally in bed. Saturday nights are always bath nights. So one by one, each of the chicken nuggets lined up to take their "turn" in the tub. They love baths. They laugh and have such a fun time playing around. They are now to the point where they like to help wash their bodies. My oldest pretty much does the whole process herself. She just has trouble rinsing her hair, but I think it's pretty mature for a four year old!
Everyone got to talk to my lobster today. It was a glorious two hour phone conversation where he talked to each child and then I got him for about forty five minutes. His voice warms my heart in a way that only he can. I must say that it completely lifted my spirits.
May is almost over. As of today, we have gone for four weeks apart. I never know how to count the month mark...should I count it as four weeks, or the June 2nd? It's very unclear. I suppose in my mind I've made it a month. One down....eleven to go...
I'll be honest that there are items of his that I refuse to wash. Maybe it's disgusting or gross, but the pajamas he wore the night before he left are still sitting right where he left them in our room. It sort of tricks my mind that he was just there and he'll be right back. Eventually I'll get to the point where I pick them up and wash them, but I'm not ready. I still need to believe that he was just here...
I wonder when I'll take over his side of the bed. A long time ago (on our first Valentine's day together), he gave me a ridiculously large teddy bear. It's been our tradition always, that when he is deployed (or not with me) I sleep with it. That teddy bear has seen me through three deployments and is now comforting me during this one. But Jake, our dog, hates it. Every night he kicks it out of the bed and I find it on the floor. He doesn't want it anywhere in sight. I think it's because he has grown to associate it with my husband's absence. When my lobster has had staff duty or CQ, the bear sleeps in the bed...so now the bear has been around for a while and Jake has had enough!
I am grateful for the conversation today. It was lovely and sweet and nice. I truly miss him so much. The days go so slowly, but the time flies so fast.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
happy anniversary
Let me start by saying this day has been rough. Starting at about two in the morning, Brun was throwing up buckets. It was the layout of how my day started. Then when I went to wash the bedding, the washing machine broke. There was tons of water pouring out of the back of the machine. I was beginning to feel like fate was against me. I was so upset. I was frustrated and burnt out (from lack of sleep) and just emotionally drained.
Hours went by and he didn't call. Mind you, it is extremely upsetting to be "that" girl who sits at home waiting on a guy to call. It's embarrassing and frustrating. I have always been like, "I don't care" and to have your whole day revolving around a phone call...well...it makes you feel really pathetic.
Finally, the phone rang. This is how it played out. "Hi Babe! Happy anniversary!" I said, Happ..." and the phone went dead. Dial tone. I sat there and thought, no worries, this happens sometimes. He'll just call back. Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen, twenty...etc etc. He didn't call back. I was SO upset. I was crying buckets of tears and shouting at God. Why don't You love me? Why do You make my life so miserable? Why are You so cruel? Why don't You care? Then that switched to, Please make him call. Please, please, please. And he didn't call. I tried reading my bible to get my spiritual "bearings". But nothing helped. I found no comfort. I was laying in bed, determined to drink myself to oblivion when the kids went to bed, or to wallow in self pity. I was emotionally distraught. Then Anny called. She made me laugh when I thought I couldn't laugh. And I don't know how she did it, since she had a not so great day herself. Before I knew it, she was saying I should come over. And I thought to myself for a second that I didn't really want to drag the kids, but then I thought I should go. So I got the kids up, made them a quick meal, and we got on the road. It was the greatest comfort. I felt happy when I left. Well, I don't know that I felt "happy" but I didn't feel like throwing myself over a bridge anymore.
On the way home, my oldest asked if we could listen to the daddy christian music. So I put it on. As the music played...God spoke to me. In the subtle ways that only He can...He said, Here is your mini miracle. And I felt it. That punch in your face conviction when you've had a temper tantrum with God and then he's like, listen up now and suck face! You see, my son has had horrible diarrhea tonight. I mean, awful, horrible stuff. But God said, You see....it's not throwing up. I realize that to many people that would seem like a strange "miracle" but it is one. If he started throwing up, I think I would've had a nervous breakdown. Another "miracle" is that now the kids all have a pediatrician. They all have someone I can call in the middle of the night and ask them what to do. No more dealing with Fort B. No more waiting three weeks for a freaking doctor's appointment when your kids have a fever of 104. No more sitting in emergency rooms for an ear infection because they "just can't fit you in". My next mini miracle is that he called at all. While I am still justifiably pissed off that all I got was four words, I'm also happy to know he didn't forget. He remembered this day. He thought of me, and he wanted to talk to me.
It's hard to put in to words what this man means to me. Where do I even begin. He is my Paul the apostle. You know where Paul says, Look to me as the example of Christ's love...well, that's what my husband does for me. He's never called attention to himself. In fact, quite the contrary. He's exceptionally humble and always feel like a Christianly failure. But this man shows me Agape love. He shows me the kind of love that only God Himself can give. The kind where you're accepted, despite your flaws, despite your sin, despite your weaknesses. He does not judge...he loves. And I am hopelessly and completely in love with him. In him, my heart has its mate. I have NEVER been the same since the day I met him. I can say that with all truthfulness. He is a beautiful gift and a wonderful man.
So the point of this whole diatribe is that the day started out awful and I was so ticked off at God...but...when you fight with God, who do you think is going to win?
Hours went by and he didn't call. Mind you, it is extremely upsetting to be "that" girl who sits at home waiting on a guy to call. It's embarrassing and frustrating. I have always been like, "I don't care" and to have your whole day revolving around a phone call...well...it makes you feel really pathetic.
Finally, the phone rang. This is how it played out. "Hi Babe! Happy anniversary!" I said, Happ..." and the phone went dead. Dial tone. I sat there and thought, no worries, this happens sometimes. He'll just call back. Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen, twenty...etc etc. He didn't call back. I was SO upset. I was crying buckets of tears and shouting at God. Why don't You love me? Why do You make my life so miserable? Why are You so cruel? Why don't You care? Then that switched to, Please make him call. Please, please, please. And he didn't call. I tried reading my bible to get my spiritual "bearings". But nothing helped. I found no comfort. I was laying in bed, determined to drink myself to oblivion when the kids went to bed, or to wallow in self pity. I was emotionally distraught. Then Anny called. She made me laugh when I thought I couldn't laugh. And I don't know how she did it, since she had a not so great day herself. Before I knew it, she was saying I should come over. And I thought to myself for a second that I didn't really want to drag the kids, but then I thought I should go. So I got the kids up, made them a quick meal, and we got on the road. It was the greatest comfort. I felt happy when I left. Well, I don't know that I felt "happy" but I didn't feel like throwing myself over a bridge anymore.
On the way home, my oldest asked if we could listen to the daddy christian music. So I put it on. As the music played...God spoke to me. In the subtle ways that only He can...He said, Here is your mini miracle. And I felt it. That punch in your face conviction when you've had a temper tantrum with God and then he's like, listen up now and suck face! You see, my son has had horrible diarrhea tonight. I mean, awful, horrible stuff. But God said, You see....it's not throwing up. I realize that to many people that would seem like a strange "miracle" but it is one. If he started throwing up, I think I would've had a nervous breakdown. Another "miracle" is that now the kids all have a pediatrician. They all have someone I can call in the middle of the night and ask them what to do. No more dealing with Fort B. No more waiting three weeks for a freaking doctor's appointment when your kids have a fever of 104. No more sitting in emergency rooms for an ear infection because they "just can't fit you in". My next mini miracle is that he called at all. While I am still justifiably pissed off that all I got was four words, I'm also happy to know he didn't forget. He remembered this day. He thought of me, and he wanted to talk to me.
It's hard to put in to words what this man means to me. Where do I even begin. He is my Paul the apostle. You know where Paul says, Look to me as the example of Christ's love...well, that's what my husband does for me. He's never called attention to himself. In fact, quite the contrary. He's exceptionally humble and always feel like a Christianly failure. But this man shows me Agape love. He shows me the kind of love that only God Himself can give. The kind where you're accepted, despite your flaws, despite your sin, despite your weaknesses. He does not judge...he loves. And I am hopelessly and completely in love with him. In him, my heart has its mate. I have NEVER been the same since the day I met him. I can say that with all truthfulness. He is a beautiful gift and a wonderful man.
So the point of this whole diatribe is that the day started out awful and I was so ticked off at God...but...when you fight with God, who do you think is going to win?
Friday, May 22, 2009
Jake
For those of you who know our Chocolate Lab, Jake, you know that he is terrified of water. Well, the other day, he finally became a "normal" lab. He and foofee (she's our cavalier king charles spaniel), had a blast playing in the sprinklers. It was a miracle of sorts. Jake has been terrified of water for the last four years that we've had him! I thought it was maybe a fluke that he played in the sprinklers, but today, when it was raining, Jake was back out in the torrential downpour of rain, enjoying himself. In fact, he started whining to go out when it started raining! I have a "new" dog! Before, he would've cowered against the door if we put him outside when it was raining! I'm in complete shock! And I'm so proud of my big brown boy!
some advice
You've just spent a year fighting in the dust, the heat, the filth. Now you’re home. And you have no idea what you're walking in to. Your children haven't been around you in a year. Your spouse has been virtually single while you were gone. You have no idea what to expect. Will you still find her attractive? How are you going to answer any questions she might have about what you've done...what you've seen?
You don't even know where to begin, or how to even process your experiences. You've lost friends; you've been shot at. You've come close to losing your own life. You want to protect your family, and perhaps, protect yourself, by ignoring it.
So you push away all the thoughts and images that fill your head. But at night, when everything is silent, the images creep in. Maybe you awaken from a dream, and find yourself reaching for your weapon. Or maybe a certain smell makes you start to look intently at your surroundings, for anywhere there might be an IED. You hate it. Damn war.
You have several options in front of you. Drink until you can't even remember that you've ever been to the Middle East; push everyone away that matters to you; hate the army; or pretend like your deployment never happened in the first place. You're tough, after all, right? You're a soldier. No opportunities for "weakness" or dread.
Maybe you simply want to know how to relate to your family again. You have changed and so has she. The experiences that you've had have altered you. You don't look at life the same way anymore. How do you tell your wife that you're not the same guy you were before you left? How could she ever understand what you've gone through? Honey, she understands more than you think.
During the year that you were gone, your wife fended for herself. She cared for your house, your cars, your lawn, your children, all on her own. She worried constantly, about your safety and whether or not you were "okay". Even now that you're home, she's still worrying that you'll feel loved, wanted, and accepted. She's worrying about whether or not you're going to be okay in the aftermath of what you've seen.
The best way to reunite with your spouse is to recognize that you fought this war together. Perhaps you saw the nightmares physically, but she dreamt them in her dreams. Perhaps you were in the heat and filth, but she prayed and carried you in her thoughts to a beautiful and serene place. She's the one who waited, hoped, persevered right along side of you. I know you feel like she could never possibly understand what you've experienced. I know you probably feel more alone in this moment than you ever have before in your whole life...but so does she. She's just as angry, exhausted, and frustrated as you are. Most of us military wives would never say this. Most of us want to be strong for you. We want to help you find some sort of peace in your mind and in your current reality. This is just our way of picking up our weapons and carrying on the fight now that you're home.
Keep in mind that this does not give you license to ignore us, or reject us. We still need you. We need to know that you're in this with us. Despite what you may be feeling or thinking, your wife can support you in more ways than you realize. Sometimes, the most difficult, yet helpful, thing to do, is to say how hard your deployment really was. Talk about it openly and frankly. Share how sad you were to lose your friend. Maybe share what it felt like to be surrounded by death. Find your own ways to bring her into your experience. The more that you can open up, the closer you will become. It will bridge the gaps in time and distance, and help reunite you as a unit again. She will be able to feel what you felt, and you will have the comfort of your wife being there for you.
You don't even know where to begin, or how to even process your experiences. You've lost friends; you've been shot at. You've come close to losing your own life. You want to protect your family, and perhaps, protect yourself, by ignoring it.
So you push away all the thoughts and images that fill your head. But at night, when everything is silent, the images creep in. Maybe you awaken from a dream, and find yourself reaching for your weapon. Or maybe a certain smell makes you start to look intently at your surroundings, for anywhere there might be an IED. You hate it. Damn war.
You have several options in front of you. Drink until you can't even remember that you've ever been to the Middle East; push everyone away that matters to you; hate the army; or pretend like your deployment never happened in the first place. You're tough, after all, right? You're a soldier. No opportunities for "weakness" or dread.
Maybe you simply want to know how to relate to your family again. You have changed and so has she. The experiences that you've had have altered you. You don't look at life the same way anymore. How do you tell your wife that you're not the same guy you were before you left? How could she ever understand what you've gone through? Honey, she understands more than you think.
During the year that you were gone, your wife fended for herself. She cared for your house, your cars, your lawn, your children, all on her own. She worried constantly, about your safety and whether or not you were "okay". Even now that you're home, she's still worrying that you'll feel loved, wanted, and accepted. She's worrying about whether or not you're going to be okay in the aftermath of what you've seen.
The best way to reunite with your spouse is to recognize that you fought this war together. Perhaps you saw the nightmares physically, but she dreamt them in her dreams. Perhaps you were in the heat and filth, but she prayed and carried you in her thoughts to a beautiful and serene place. She's the one who waited, hoped, persevered right along side of you. I know you feel like she could never possibly understand what you've experienced. I know you probably feel more alone in this moment than you ever have before in your whole life...but so does she. She's just as angry, exhausted, and frustrated as you are. Most of us military wives would never say this. Most of us want to be strong for you. We want to help you find some sort of peace in your mind and in your current reality. This is just our way of picking up our weapons and carrying on the fight now that you're home.
Keep in mind that this does not give you license to ignore us, or reject us. We still need you. We need to know that you're in this with us. Despite what you may be feeling or thinking, your wife can support you in more ways than you realize. Sometimes, the most difficult, yet helpful, thing to do, is to say how hard your deployment really was. Talk about it openly and frankly. Share how sad you were to lose your friend. Maybe share what it felt like to be surrounded by death. Find your own ways to bring her into your experience. The more that you can open up, the closer you will become. It will bridge the gaps in time and distance, and help reunite you as a unit again. She will be able to feel what you felt, and you will have the comfort of your wife being there for you.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
welcome to
Yesterday was a horrible day. It was one of those days when everything is going wrong and every time the phone rings it's something awful. One of those specifically horrible/awful things is my grandfather. He is dying. Not in the, we're-all-dying sort of way, but in the it's-his-last-days kind of way. It came like a sucker punch... I mean, really it did. My grandfather is old, and he's been telling me for years that he wants to die, etc etc. But today was not the day I expected it. I feel so lost, so confused and in so much pain. My grandfather is not a believer. He believes that religion is for the weak minded, and though I have tried to share my faith with him, he has consistently rejected it. Now I sit here thinking, what can I do? What can I say? How can I find his up and coming death joyful? It is complete hell for me. All night last night I tossed and turned and prayed that God would give me wisdom, give me words, to reach his hardened heart.
I love my grandfather. I love him deeply and passionately. I have been very close to him for the last ten years or so. I have never found him intimidating and I've always been willing to tell him when he was being screwed up. He told me once that he's always admired my convictions, and that he knows I'll tell him when he's wrong. I think he admires people who aren't afraid. Truthfully...so do I. But in this strange way...I am completely afraid.
I am feeling so many angry feelings. I recognize that it comes from a helpless place. I can do nothing but sit here and wait. It really sucks.
Today I am struggling with saying God is good. I know that as a believer that statement should roll off my tongue like the word the. It shouldn't be a challenge or a difficult thing to express, it should just pour out. But today....
I was up all night with one of my children. She had a high fever and nothing else. She just kept crying for her daddy. I'm guessing it was stress fever. But because of the fever, it brought on an asthma attack and I had to keep giving her breathing treatments every two hours. She's fine this morning, still a bit of wheezing, but that's residual from the asthma stuff. But I was so angry. I was laying there with this child, that I love, that I would do anything for, and I just kept thinking, what kind of screwed up timing is this? She wanted her daddy. I don't know if it just took her a bunch of days to realize he wasn't coming back any time soon, or if having the random fever, sparked some sort of longing in her...I don't know. When she gets afraid in the night, her dad is usually the one that cuddles her. It's one of his amazing attributes. I'm not very physically affectionate, and it's his favorite thing to do.
My thoughts are all jumbled up in a big ball of emotions. Fatigue is pretty strong in me today. I am tired. I'm emotionally tired, and physically tired. My spirit is in need. I am listening to worship music right now. Not necessarily because I want to worship, but because I need to. Or maybe a better way to explain it is to say I need the music to speak to me. I need it to lift me up and encourage me. I need it to fill me up and bring me peace.
Isn't it true that in times of helplessness, all we can do is look up? I love how Psalm 16 puts it: 1 Keep me safe, O God,
for in you I take refuge.
2 I said to the LORD, "You are my Lord;
apart from you I have no good thing.".
I need some refuge. I really, really do.
I love my grandfather. I love him deeply and passionately. I have been very close to him for the last ten years or so. I have never found him intimidating and I've always been willing to tell him when he was being screwed up. He told me once that he's always admired my convictions, and that he knows I'll tell him when he's wrong. I think he admires people who aren't afraid. Truthfully...so do I. But in this strange way...I am completely afraid.
I am feeling so many angry feelings. I recognize that it comes from a helpless place. I can do nothing but sit here and wait. It really sucks.
Today I am struggling with saying God is good. I know that as a believer that statement should roll off my tongue like the word the. It shouldn't be a challenge or a difficult thing to express, it should just pour out. But today....
I was up all night with one of my children. She had a high fever and nothing else. She just kept crying for her daddy. I'm guessing it was stress fever. But because of the fever, it brought on an asthma attack and I had to keep giving her breathing treatments every two hours. She's fine this morning, still a bit of wheezing, but that's residual from the asthma stuff. But I was so angry. I was laying there with this child, that I love, that I would do anything for, and I just kept thinking, what kind of screwed up timing is this? She wanted her daddy. I don't know if it just took her a bunch of days to realize he wasn't coming back any time soon, or if having the random fever, sparked some sort of longing in her...I don't know. When she gets afraid in the night, her dad is usually the one that cuddles her. It's one of his amazing attributes. I'm not very physically affectionate, and it's his favorite thing to do.
My thoughts are all jumbled up in a big ball of emotions. Fatigue is pretty strong in me today. I am tired. I'm emotionally tired, and physically tired. My spirit is in need. I am listening to worship music right now. Not necessarily because I want to worship, but because I need to. Or maybe a better way to explain it is to say I need the music to speak to me. I need it to lift me up and encourage me. I need it to fill me up and bring me peace.
Isn't it true that in times of helplessness, all we can do is look up? I love how Psalm 16 puts it: 1 Keep me safe, O God,
for in you I take refuge.
2 I said to the LORD, "You are my Lord;
apart from you I have no good thing.".
I need some refuge. I really, really do.
Friday, May 8, 2009
letter to my husband
I'm not good with words anymore. I used to be. It was sort of my specialty. I used to know what to say when to say and to whom it needed to be said. I used to be able to have a sense about things. I feel like my brain is clouded with static. I am tired and I'm angry and I'm supportive and I'm frustrated and I'm in love. And sometimes I hate that I love you. There. I said it. Sometimes I hate that I love you. And now I'm a horrible wife and a completely unsupportive woman. I hate looking for you everywhere I go. Or listening for you coming in the door, or pretending like you're next to me in bed. I hate that you left. I hate it. I hate that you reenlisted, and I hate that you left me all alone. I know it's screwed up. And it's a horrible dichotomy and a completely frustrating experience, because in the exact same burst of emotion that hates and resents, I feel the complete opposite: proud, and in awe, and grateful, and joyful. This is what you do to me. I hate that without you here I feel lost. And I hate people telling me that I shouldn't feel that way. That my sense of value and purpose is in Christ not you. They don't understand what I'm getting at. I need you. I don't need you to breathe, or to make my heart beat, I need you to smile. I need you to laugh. I need you to sleep peacefully. I need you to make it okay for me to cry. I need you to cuddle me and hold me. I feel broken. I feel like someone jumped inside of me and screwed up my brain and I'm just on cruise control. Unable to move myself, my brain is forcing me to move forward. And I don't want to move. I want to just freeze. I am so scared babe. I am more scared that you can even begin to imagine. I'm not scared that you'll die. Honestly. I swear. I'm scared you'll come back like you did last time. I'm scared you'll say horrible hurtful excrutiating things to me. I'm scared you won't love me, won't hate me, won't feel anything but rage. I'm scared you'll be violent again. I know the religious arguments. I know that God "cured" you once and He can do it again and so on so forth. I just don't know if I can do it.
I realize the very notion of my anxiety is foolish. I know that ultimately your fate is out of my control. I also know that the unity between you and I is deeper than any we have ever seen. It's beyond affection and love...it's impossible to verbalize or explain. Your are my heart's greatest passion. My life's greatest earthly love. On a scale unimaginable even to me. I did not believe it was possible to love someone this much, and to be loved this much in return.
I am fierce, ferocious, opinionated, passionate, spicy, and a thousand other words and yet you love them all. You are the only one strong enough to be my man. And I miss you. I miss you more than that stupid word "miss" can even begin to explain. Frankly this is very overwhelming... this idea of 359 more days... I know I have to take it one day at a time. You know what I'm saddest about? I don't get to go on this journey with you, and you don't get to go on mine with me. We both are forced geographically to endure our journey's "alone". The only way that we can ensure we continue to grow together is through Christ. Christ is with each of us, uniting us, on our lonely roads. I hope your day is wonderful. I know your day has begun already, while mine is coming to its close. I miss your big brown eyes.
I realize the very notion of my anxiety is foolish. I know that ultimately your fate is out of my control. I also know that the unity between you and I is deeper than any we have ever seen. It's beyond affection and love...it's impossible to verbalize or explain. Your are my heart's greatest passion. My life's greatest earthly love. On a scale unimaginable even to me. I did not believe it was possible to love someone this much, and to be loved this much in return.
I am fierce, ferocious, opinionated, passionate, spicy, and a thousand other words and yet you love them all. You are the only one strong enough to be my man. And I miss you. I miss you more than that stupid word "miss" can even begin to explain. Frankly this is very overwhelming... this idea of 359 more days... I know I have to take it one day at a time. You know what I'm saddest about? I don't get to go on this journey with you, and you don't get to go on mine with me. We both are forced geographically to endure our journey's "alone". The only way that we can ensure we continue to grow together is through Christ. Christ is with each of us, uniting us, on our lonely roads. I hope your day is wonderful. I know your day has begun already, while mine is coming to its close. I miss your big brown eyes.
crap
Under the shade of apple trees I hide
pricked by the thorn of adoration and speculation
I leave my voice muted by you
gagged and tied up in a bureaucratic nation
I am doing my best at keeping myself silent
uttering nonsensical words in your presence
and I still get giggly and nervous
while you get embarrassed and pretentious
and I could map you out on a wall
under familiarity and understanding and love
I've got you folded up in my back pocket
holding on to a necklace like a drug
I still look around for your hand in bed
and I still listen for your voice in the night
and I'm getting away with my romanticism
but I assume in regards to you, it's all right
pricked by the thorn of adoration and speculation
I leave my voice muted by you
gagged and tied up in a bureaucratic nation
I am doing my best at keeping myself silent
uttering nonsensical words in your presence
and I still get giggly and nervous
while you get embarrassed and pretentious
and I could map you out on a wall
under familiarity and understanding and love
I've got you folded up in my back pocket
holding on to a necklace like a drug
I still look around for your hand in bed
and I still listen for your voice in the night
and I'm getting away with my romanticism
but I assume in regards to you, it's all right
Sunday, May 3, 2009
May 2 2009
My husband left for Iraq yesterday. This is his fourth time to the middle east. I don't even know where to begin in all of my emotionalness. I barely slept the night before he left. I probably got about two hours of sleep. I woke up about six, so that I could be with him a little more. I did my quiet time, and I poured out my heart begging God, asking God, to PLEASE give me strength. The morning was very somber. My lobster woke up the children and fed them breakfast. We wrapped up things at home and then headed over to post to drop him off. Both he and I cried the whole way there. When it was time for him to go, my oldest started crying hysterically and said, "Why is daddy walking away!? Why is daddy not staying with us?! He needs to get in the car! He needs to come back! I need my daddy!" I told her that daddy had to go on his trip and that he loves her and will miss her. I told her that we would send him packages, and letters and pictures, and that he'll call us. I told her that daddy didn't want to go, but that he has to. Then she just started screaming for me to get her out of there. That she couldn't watch. She needed to get out of there. So I left. And I was crying so hard. Crying for myself, crying for my children, crying for my husband.
I was finally able to calm my oldest down, and bring her some comfort. My lobster wanted me to bring her to the "family time" that was going to occur later in the day, but after seeing her get so upset, I decided that it would be too hard for her. He still had his cell phone and when I called him, he agreed.
I fed the kids lunch, and then put them all down for their naps. The sitter arrived just after then, and my friend Anny and I left to go to the "family time". We sat at Biggs Gym for an hour waiting for them to come. They were an hour late for our time together. Because of this, what was supposed to be two hours together, ended up being one. But, in this life, you sort of get used to these things happening. But I will say, though I'm used to it, they don't make me any less angry.
My husband and I cuddled and kissed and sat and talked with each other. He told me how much he loved me and how I was his best friend. We cried. And it hurt so much to see him cry. I told him everything that I wanted him to know. I gave him his going away packet. We sat together and opened the first parts of it. He saw the pictures of the kids' hand prints and footprints. He saw the pictures that all of the children had drawn for him. He looked at the journal that I gave to him, and the pictures of our families that I put in there. He looked at the list that our oldest wrote for him of the "Things I love about Daddy". I think he cried through the whole experience of looking at it. He read his "day 1" letter from me.
We just enjoyed each other. I tried to memorize his smell and his warmth and his scratchy cheeks. I tried to soak it in. Then the announcement came that it was time to go. And I broke. I started feeling dizzy and faint. We held each other and then he walked off. I was crying so hard. Then all of a sudden he came back and said, "Will you please come outside with me?" and of course I did! We walked out together hand in hand. He had all of his stuff on him. He side arm, his weapon, his backpack (well, it's called something else, but that's basically what it is), and his briefcase. We got outside in the sunlight and the wind, and we just held each other. I held him so tight as if it would prevent him from having to go. But I knew eventually I would have to let go. He kissed me again and told me he loved me. We both said "I'll be seeing you" (we don't say "goodbye". We never have in moments like these), and then he walked off into the formation. Anny and I stood outside together watching them get on the busses to go to the airfield. Then she and I left so that we could get over to the airfield to watch them drive by. We were the only wives there as they pulled up. Anny and I stood outside, and both Rich (Anny's husband) and my husband saw us and waved. I was really glad. It gave me a sense of joy.
Anny and I stopped at McDonald's on the way home. Neither of us were in a frame of mind to be cooking or making meals for our children. We sat and talked together for a while, and then Anny had to go home. Just before she left, my lobster text messaged me and told me that he loved me. It made me start to cry.
About twenty minutes after Anny left, I went into my son's room to change the babies' diapers, and then the wave of agony hit me. I think I've never cried so hard in my life. I mean, it was ugly. It was nothing but raw emotion. There was no words. I just kept crying out "I miss your daddy". I couldn't stop. It was the only sound that could make any sense to explain to my children why their mother was so upset. I somehow managed to change diapers in the midst of this emotional wave. I came out to my living room and I called my friend Koria. I knew she would understand. She said "Hello" and I don't remember saying anything, but crying, except that she told me I said "hello". About fifteen seconds after we got on the phone, my mom called, so I talked to her for a bit. Or rather, cried hysterically, while she sat on the phone and tried to be supportive. She just told me I needed to grieve. And she's right. I need to grieve. I am in so much emotional agony. I am so heartbroken. I am going to be without my heart, my love, my best friend, my confidant, my partner, my soul mate, my comfort for so many days. And it just overwhelms me when I think about it. My mom reminded me to break it down into the whole "one day at a time" thing. Which is true. But last night, I was not there. I was overwhelmed. I was defeated. My mom had to go, so I called Koria back again. She finally helped me calm down. She just listened and talked and distracted me. She always seems to know what I need without me having to tell her.
When Koria and I got off the phone it was time for the kids to go to bed. So I changed their diapers again, brushed their teeth, and then we settled in front of the TV to watch the bed time videos that their dad had made (stories and prayers). My youngest started crying hysterically when it came on. I did my best to console her, and then I put each child to bed. My husband gave each of them "daddy dolls" to comfort and hold in the night. They gave their daddy dolls kisses goodnight and then settled in. My oldest watched her video and then she went to bed.
This was when I was really afraid the agony would come. On a normal day, when the kids are in bed is when the hubster and I spend time together. I was terrified that I would walk out to an empty living room and break again, but it didn't happen. I don't know if it was because I was so dehydrated, or if it was because I was so exhausted. I don't know. I went in my room and wrote my lobster a letter. I don't remember what I said, and I'm not even sure if it made sense. I settled in to watch som Friends. I was hoping it would make me laugh some so that I would be able to sleep. Just a few seconds after I turned it on, the lobster called. We literally talked for five minutes. He prayed with me, and it gave me immense comfort. I cried for just a few seconds. I felt peace and joy at just hearing his voice. After that I went to sleep.
The night was strange. I woke up at midnight when my mom called to check on me. Then I woke up again at about five to some strange man ringing my doorbell. Of course I refused to open the door, but I shouted through the front door "What do you want?" then he mumbled something and walked off. I don't know if he was drunk, or went unknowingly to the wrong house, but he left after that. Normally, an incidence like that would terrify me, but it didn't. I know that this was solely and only because of Heavenly peace. I went back to bed, and woke up at eight to start my day.
So here it is. It hasn't even been twenty four hours. I'm still emotional, I'm still so sad. But I know that he loves me. And he knows that I love him. And somehow, the minutes will turn in to hours, the hours in to days, the days in to weeks, the weeks in to months, and then this deployment will be over. So for now...I just need to get through this day.
I was finally able to calm my oldest down, and bring her some comfort. My lobster wanted me to bring her to the "family time" that was going to occur later in the day, but after seeing her get so upset, I decided that it would be too hard for her. He still had his cell phone and when I called him, he agreed.
I fed the kids lunch, and then put them all down for their naps. The sitter arrived just after then, and my friend Anny and I left to go to the "family time". We sat at Biggs Gym for an hour waiting for them to come. They were an hour late for our time together. Because of this, what was supposed to be two hours together, ended up being one. But, in this life, you sort of get used to these things happening. But I will say, though I'm used to it, they don't make me any less angry.
My husband and I cuddled and kissed and sat and talked with each other. He told me how much he loved me and how I was his best friend. We cried. And it hurt so much to see him cry. I told him everything that I wanted him to know. I gave him his going away packet. We sat together and opened the first parts of it. He saw the pictures of the kids' hand prints and footprints. He saw the pictures that all of the children had drawn for him. He looked at the journal that I gave to him, and the pictures of our families that I put in there. He looked at the list that our oldest wrote for him of the "Things I love about Daddy". I think he cried through the whole experience of looking at it. He read his "day 1" letter from me.
We just enjoyed each other. I tried to memorize his smell and his warmth and his scratchy cheeks. I tried to soak it in. Then the announcement came that it was time to go. And I broke. I started feeling dizzy and faint. We held each other and then he walked off. I was crying so hard. Then all of a sudden he came back and said, "Will you please come outside with me?" and of course I did! We walked out together hand in hand. He had all of his stuff on him. He side arm, his weapon, his backpack (well, it's called something else, but that's basically what it is), and his briefcase. We got outside in the sunlight and the wind, and we just held each other. I held him so tight as if it would prevent him from having to go. But I knew eventually I would have to let go. He kissed me again and told me he loved me. We both said "I'll be seeing you" (we don't say "goodbye". We never have in moments like these), and then he walked off into the formation. Anny and I stood outside together watching them get on the busses to go to the airfield. Then she and I left so that we could get over to the airfield to watch them drive by. We were the only wives there as they pulled up. Anny and I stood outside, and both Rich (Anny's husband) and my husband saw us and waved. I was really glad. It gave me a sense of joy.
Anny and I stopped at McDonald's on the way home. Neither of us were in a frame of mind to be cooking or making meals for our children. We sat and talked together for a while, and then Anny had to go home. Just before she left, my lobster text messaged me and told me that he loved me. It made me start to cry.
About twenty minutes after Anny left, I went into my son's room to change the babies' diapers, and then the wave of agony hit me. I think I've never cried so hard in my life. I mean, it was ugly. It was nothing but raw emotion. There was no words. I just kept crying out "I miss your daddy". I couldn't stop. It was the only sound that could make any sense to explain to my children why their mother was so upset. I somehow managed to change diapers in the midst of this emotional wave. I came out to my living room and I called my friend Koria. I knew she would understand. She said "Hello" and I don't remember saying anything, but crying, except that she told me I said "hello". About fifteen seconds after we got on the phone, my mom called, so I talked to her for a bit. Or rather, cried hysterically, while she sat on the phone and tried to be supportive. She just told me I needed to grieve. And she's right. I need to grieve. I am in so much emotional agony. I am so heartbroken. I am going to be without my heart, my love, my best friend, my confidant, my partner, my soul mate, my comfort for so many days. And it just overwhelms me when I think about it. My mom reminded me to break it down into the whole "one day at a time" thing. Which is true. But last night, I was not there. I was overwhelmed. I was defeated. My mom had to go, so I called Koria back again. She finally helped me calm down. She just listened and talked and distracted me. She always seems to know what I need without me having to tell her.
When Koria and I got off the phone it was time for the kids to go to bed. So I changed their diapers again, brushed their teeth, and then we settled in front of the TV to watch the bed time videos that their dad had made (stories and prayers). My youngest started crying hysterically when it came on. I did my best to console her, and then I put each child to bed. My husband gave each of them "daddy dolls" to comfort and hold in the night. They gave their daddy dolls kisses goodnight and then settled in. My oldest watched her video and then she went to bed.
This was when I was really afraid the agony would come. On a normal day, when the kids are in bed is when the hubster and I spend time together. I was terrified that I would walk out to an empty living room and break again, but it didn't happen. I don't know if it was because I was so dehydrated, or if it was because I was so exhausted. I don't know. I went in my room and wrote my lobster a letter. I don't remember what I said, and I'm not even sure if it made sense. I settled in to watch som Friends. I was hoping it would make me laugh some so that I would be able to sleep. Just a few seconds after I turned it on, the lobster called. We literally talked for five minutes. He prayed with me, and it gave me immense comfort. I cried for just a few seconds. I felt peace and joy at just hearing his voice. After that I went to sleep.
The night was strange. I woke up at midnight when my mom called to check on me. Then I woke up again at about five to some strange man ringing my doorbell. Of course I refused to open the door, but I shouted through the front door "What do you want?" then he mumbled something and walked off. I don't know if he was drunk, or went unknowingly to the wrong house, but he left after that. Normally, an incidence like that would terrify me, but it didn't. I know that this was solely and only because of Heavenly peace. I went back to bed, and woke up at eight to start my day.
So here it is. It hasn't even been twenty four hours. I'm still emotional, I'm still so sad. But I know that he loves me. And he knows that I love him. And somehow, the minutes will turn in to hours, the hours in to days, the days in to weeks, the weeks in to months, and then this deployment will be over. So for now...I just need to get through this day.
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