emotional me.

Here it is. The end. I have survived this deployment. Okay, well technically I have fifteen hours and forty seven minutes left, but I think when we're down to hours...it counts as the end. The kids and I made it. At the beginning of this past year (by year I am meaning when my husband deployed) the entire endeavor was very overwhelming. In fact, after we had said our goodbyes and I left him at Fort Bliss, and after everyone had gone home...the overwhelmingness of the entire situation hit me. I remember the moment like it was yesterday. My son (one of the triplets) needed his diaper changed. I felt (up to this point) quite calm...sad...but not having anywhere near to an emotional breakdown. I walked in to his bedroom, laid him down to change him, and it hit me...I would be changing three two year olds diapers, caring for sicknesses, cleaning up vomit, taking hospital trips, countless hospital stays, breathing treatments to do, medications to give, bed tucking ins to do...feedings, cleanings, bathings, bed time story readings, cuddlings, dealing with tantrums, and on and on and on all by myself for four toddlers...for a year. It honestly hit me like a punch in the face. And I lost it. I did the "ugly cry". It was UGLY. I don't even really remember the cry so much as gasping for air and dialing phone numbers because I needed someone to talk to. I called my best friend, Koria. I don't even remember saying hello, I just remember sobbing uncontrollably, and her saying something along the lines of, "You can do this. I know it's hard." And my mom called and then bawling my eyes out with her and her saying similar things.

I remember when we were at the gym (this was our final goodbye place) and they announced that it was time to go. Michael and I were crying, he put on his sunglasses so as to show me a brave face. We hugged and kissed and he walked off. And I stood there watching him walk away, and I just kept thinking to myself, breathe...if you don't breathe you're going to pass out and that won't go well. Breathe...Breathe... I think I blocked everything out because the next thing I knew he grabbed me and whispered in my ear, "Will you come outside with me?" and I said, "Of course!" Then we walked hand in hand outside for him to line up in his formation. When we were finally out in the sunlight, we hugged one last time, and I was crying and we said what we have always said at partings, "I'll be seeing you." Then he walked off. I remember as I stood there, watching them load up on the buses, I thought to myself that this would be the hardest part. The first day is the worst. Get through this moment, and then you'll do better.

When I had gotten home and I was alone with the kids...I have to say I was surprised by my emotional breakdown. I thought I would be stronger. I had, after all, done this before and I was not new to this process. I guess, the truth was, in that moment with my son...I panicked. It hit me like a wave...and I honestly felt lost.

It's easy for me to recount all of this to you now, because it's over. I can tell you with complete certainty, that I have remembered EVERY SINGLE time he and I have parted ways for these endeavors. I remember them with a clarity...that I can easily describe to you. I remember it from his first deployment all the way to this last one. I remember what I was wearing for each of them, what the weather was, the times of day...all of them. I can recount them to you vividly...as if they had happened a moment ago.

You might say that me remembering them that well is a little morbid. I honestly don't think they are. I remember them because they are beautiful gifts to me. In every single one of those moments, I wasn't a college student, or a fiance, or a wife, or a mother, or an ex girlfriend, or a daughter...I was just a girl saying goodbye to the love of her life, and a girl being said goodbye to. I have never questioned that my husband adores me. I know this with a certainty in my soul. He and I truly are one, not just in that sappy cheesy way...but in the kind of way that really only comes around once in a lifetime way. But on those days...in those moments...everything else faded away and it was just me and him.

Now, just as I can recall to you every single one of those goodbyes, I can also recount with the same clarity, the hellos too. Those moments are the sweetest moments, when his arms finally wrap around me, and my whole body justs...relaxes. It's sort of like...okay...we made it...I can let go now... I don't know if anyone can understand this situation other than fellow army wives. The army really does in a lot of ways leave you out to dry, and when your soldier comes home...that safety returns. Even though I have a strong faith in Christ...and I have tremendous peace about what my husband does...it's difficult to explain.

Okay...so I suppose trying to round out these random thoughts and get to the heart of why it is I'm writing this post would be helpful. :) Today, when the rear detachment soldier called me (and the rear detachment first sergeant jumped on the phone, which I'm only noting for the benefit of my husband who might read this one day :) )... the "official" end had come. My husband will most likely, never again step foot in Iraq. It's actually kind of emotional for me on a lot of levels...That place...it has affected my life more than you could ever know. It has done things to me, personally, more than I have time, or the emotional fortitude, to explain. So to have it be done. To be completely done with ever having to say, "he's in Iraq", or even the word "Iraq" ever again... I can't begin to tell you what that feels like. Even as I sit here now...tears are pouring out of my eyes. It is so emotional for me. That place nearly killed me, literally and emotionally, and to have this place in my life where it will not have us anymore...I just don't know how to describe it.

The last time my husband came home, I was excited. I was elated. I was restless. This time? I almost feel like I am mourning. It's not mourning for him to come home, about that I am completely elated (beyond words). It's mourning about this finally being finished. It's sort of the reality that this is done. Forever.

I suppose in a nutshell, the purpose of this post is that I can not wait to write to you tomorrow and tell you with the greatest joy in my heart that my friends...it is finished! :) Goodbye Iraq! Hello my beloved. :)