Deployment Journal - Day #17

Tonight, I got sick.  Very sick.  Like, at dinnertime, I was fine.  By 7:30, I felt like I'd been poisoned.  But, with the deadly kind of poison, not the nauseating kind.  A violent headache morphed into staggering body-wide agony.  I suddenly couldn't swallow, I couldn't turn my head, my muscles seized up, and I had a fever.  A bad fever.

Wee little daughter hasn't been happy the last few days, (maybe she's been fighting a bug - or maybe it's teething - hard to tell) so naturally, I haven't been sleeping much - but this virus feels wicked.  Not your average headcold/flu that you pick up when your immune system is tired.  

So.  I'm going to bed.  With a water bottle and the Costco-sized bottle of Ibupofen.  Wish me well...

Deployment Journal - Day #16

Why yes, I do eat grapes for dinner.  More than are pictured here, so rest easy.  There are very few upsides to deployments, but among the list of semi-comforts is my suddenly freedom to eat random meals without anyone knowing.  

Well, 'cept I'm honest and might blog about them.  But, I don't have to tell/show anyone. Which is new, and kinda fun.  To be fair, Husband is a nice fellow, and wouldn't mind if we ate more random meals even when he was here - it's only my ego that prefers a protein+starch+veggie+sweet plate, in varied, picturesque colors.  Like a magazine.  (Yes.  I am pathetically susceptible to the marketing claim that life can, in fact, look like a magazine if you only try buy enough...)

But, in addition to being random, I also have the freedom to eat intermittently - or sparsely - or in the middle of the night.  Which wouldn't work normally, because Husband is not only a man, but also an athlete, and thus needs at least a certain (large) amount of calories, at regular (frequent) intervals.  

So, while it's rather sad to eat hummus with crackers and toast with Nutella for supper, I'm trying to enjoy it.  It is admittedly novel.

Deployment Journal - Day #15

Watched the neighbor kids run out to hug their uniformed daddy, coming home from work today.  Felt mixed about that - happy for them, sad for us, scolding myself for picturing life like a melodramatic movie, remembering how I used to narrate my early childhood days aloud to myself, in the sandbox...

* * *

Also, I added gas stabilizer to the car we won't be driving much for a while.  I thought it'd take five minutes, maximum, so I set Baby in her carseat, but didn't buckle her into it.  Clumsily, awkwardly, I poured and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, trying to eek the foul substance into my gas tank - something was wrong with the dispenser.  

Nearly thirty minutes later, I'm sweaty, stressed, and hysterically worried that my child is going to crawl out of her carseat and plunge onto the car floor - I'm visualizing her flipping, and cringing, calling to her "Don't move, sweetie!" but my hands are covered in fuming toxins and I keep thinking irrational thoughts like, "Just one more minute!  I can finish!"  So I don't actually go retrieve her.

By the grace of Heaven, I did finally finish - after thinking that mantra for the seventieth time - and rushed inside to seize a roll of paper towels.  I sprinted back to the car, finding my sweet daughter still primly sitting, waiting for me.  Such relief.  I started the car, so it could "run for five minutes" like the stupid bottle told me to, and we went inside and cleaned up.  Folded some laundry, made dinner, took out the trash, washed Baby's hair, watered the garden, IMed a friend.  Then Husband called.  YAY!!!

... Midway thru our conversation, I started ranting about the defective dispenser and suddenly froze.

"Can you hang on a sec?!"

I rushed out to the garage.  The car was still purring.  

My gosh.  It had been almost two hours.

I'm such an idiot!  What else am I forgetting?  How do I even tell him?  He'll worry even more! I wished I could throw something.  But instead, I slid the keys out of the ignition, rolled my eyes, and headed back inside.

Well... at least the car ran for... long enough.

Deployment Journal - Day #14

Today, I let Baby try to crawl behind the toilet; she’s such an explorer. 

Halfway to goal, she hit her ear on the corner of the cabinet and bawled.  Sobbing dramatically, she looked up for comfort, and hit her head on the same corner again.  She doubled her wail and life was, for the several seconds until I scooped her up, horrendous.  Then, she giggled and snuggled her drooley face into my neck.  Heh.

Thus, we keep on.

Also, I planted more yam sprouts today.  The digging and hoeing and smoothing and sprinkling is ridiculously cathartic.

Deployment Journal - Day #13

Rule #1: "Don't watch the news." 

The principle here is not to expose yourself to anything that will make you worry more.  Fine idea.  Looks great on paper.

We don't even have a TV, so you'd think it would be easy for me.  But, I love politics.  So, the internet is my friend; I have my little crumb trail of websites that I browse daily.  And naturally, they all started posting photos of war-torn nations and military violence, as soon as Husband left.  Before he left, actually.  Seemed like it started as soon as he got orders.  Figures. 

Moreover, every doctor's office and autoshop has opinionated magazines strewn all over, and a TV, babbling endlessly.  Usually set to a news network.  And I HAVE to get my teeth cleaned, and we HAVE to get the oil changed, so what's a girl to do?

Fortunately, I'm pretty mentally tough (<-- See?  Mantra HERE.  Positive self-talk, even if delutional, is huge for me...) so I've been able to block out most of the upsetting headlines and images so far.

But see, I've been re-watching The West Wing.  Yes, all seven seasons.  Don't judge.  Fond college memories warm my soul every time the familiar intro music plays... such gratifyingly quick dialogue, such tight arguments.  Ahhh, I love this show...

... and I totally forgot how ridiculously-many military crises were in this series.  *wide-eyed*  Of course, I'm a softie for storylines, so I can't turn an episode OFF, until I finish it.  And most of these episodes require you to watch the NEXT episode to find out who is really, permanently dead.  So, on I go.

And there I lay, late at night, with visions of exploding SUVs and hostage situations and nine starched-collar leaders deciding the fate of thousands of soldiers everywhere, in that dramatically-portrayed Situation Room... AHHHH!  What have I done?

So, I switched to innocent films.  Girl movies, kid movies, etc.  What harm can come from Disney, right? 

... I have never cried over a stage kiss like that before.

Can't win, people.  Every song, every photo, every time I make a protein smoothie... I think of him.  Rule #1 is impossible.  

I'm just going to miss the guy, and worry a little, K?

Deployment Journal - Day #12

Today was a good day.  I talked to Husband, and he's still alive and well.  A friend invited me for dinner in a couple of days.  I tended the garden, took a walk, churned through a few more projects, and played with my darling daughter a lot.  We ate, we slept, we're caught up on texts, and emails, and dishes.  I posted photos/videos online for the relatives to see; both cars are filled with fresh gas. I'm ticking through to-do's, and sleeping on the couch when I feel blue.  

We're finding a rhythm.  My heart still aches, but we're functioning.  

Go us.

Deployment Journal - Day #11

I'm feeling oddly resentful towards civilians lately.  I've never felt this way before. But, I have felt the opposite, struggling with the blithe, practiced, sometimes-heartless attitude of experienced military spouses, and preferring the sympathy of merciful "oh-you-poor-sweetie-come-for-dinner-every-night!" civilians who just cannot fathom how we military families survive, heh.  

So, when I realized I was suddenly bristling at civilians, it took me a couple days to figure out why.  I finally concluded that civilians were throwing off my emotional equilibrium.  Yeah.  Who knew, right?  But, turns out that too much sympathy is as bad as too little.  
Also, they just can't relate.  Yet they try so hard, for so, so many sentences in a row...

AND they contradict whatever I say.  This may be the kicker, actually.  When I smile maturely and say, "Yes, it's hard, but this is just what we military spouses do--" they interject, "But, it must be so hard!  How can your husband stand to be away so long?  Can you sleep at night?  Your daughter must miss him so much!"  etc. etc.  And at this point, I'm forced by all possible codes of courtesy to reassure them that it's really not that bad, and rush to minimize my struggles, lest they be overwhelmed on my behalf and start crying in the grocery store for "ALL THOSE POOR SOLDIERS..."

However, if ever I start to admit, "Yes, it's very hard--" they cut me off almost reprovingly. "But, at least he can call/you can email" or "What great life experience he's getting" or "He'll be home soon" or "Now you understand how single moms feel!" or (my most hated)  "Oh, my husband travels alot, too!"

Really?  Really?!  I already get to play endless mediator between the you (Opinionated Citizen, powered by amateur political bloggers and sensational radio show hosts) and the U.S. Government/Military (whose foreign policy decisions I may or may not agree with, but definitely am not going to let you bad-mouth, thanks).  I already tiptoe verbally, trying to heartily affirm our nation/military/the-freedom-that-enables-you-to-nitpick-and-critique-and-second-guess-our-commanders-from-your-couch, while also leveling with you (a little) about my personal opinions, so you won't think I'm merely a robotic spokesmodel for the military, with no autonomy or independent thoughts.

Frankly, I already struggle to find my own balance with all this.  It's true.  I wish my husband were home.  And I wish the whole world got along better.  I wish military intervention wasn't necessary, and I also wish it was more effective.  Some days, I care more about me and my daughter than I do about other countries, their turmoil, and the many possible catastrophic complications of crazy, power-hungry people everywhere.  Some days, I am myopic.  I fixate on the short term.  Tonight's fear.  Tomorrow's social drama.  That difficult situation I have to face alone.  Again.  Some days, I feel resentful.  Some days, I feel numb.  Or proud of us.

But whatever I'm feeling that day, comments from inquiring bystanders drudge up all the opposing feelings.  I get muddled, and am reminded of what I'm not feeling, of all those other contradictory feelings.

A sweet (civilian) girlfriend asked me the other day, "Is it hard - having everyone ask you about your husband, and the military, and everything?" And I think I replied diplomatically that it was probably about as annoying as being asked about your (difficult) pregnancy, repeatedly, or your (undetermined) post-college plans, repeatedly.  And I think I said that I just try to handle it maturely, and not be bitter, and be thankful that people care enough to ask and give me the chance to answer - however schizophrenically.  And that was true.  But, it's also true that it's hard.  And probably, it's no one's fault that nearly any question or comment can make this tenuous emotional place feel even harder. 

But, I am finding myself extra grateful for my military peers, even the ones I'm not very close with, who simply ask, "How're you doing?" and "Have any fun weekend plans?" and "Aren't the weeds horrible?" just like they normally would ask any other neighbor.  No dramatic, wide-eyed, backhanded fishing for a deeper story.  They don't act like anything has changed.  Probably because they've done this before.  Much more than I have.  And deployments are genuinely normal to them.  Almost uneventful, in fact.  Which sometimes annoys me.  But right now, it's kinda comforting.  It keeps the emotions bottle-sized.

Deployment Journal - Day #10

During difficult times, I tend to cope by hyper-focusing on my blessings.  Sometimes excessively.  Here are five of my last seven Facebook statuses:

"... grateful for stairs. Such constant exercise."

"... grateful for kind neighbors, hot tea, working appliances, chicken soup, sweet potato sprouts, and the library."

"... grateful for true friends, steamed milk, manual labor, and a fresh haircut."

"... grateful for ice cream, and text messages, and remembering to put our trashcan out on the curb tonight."

"... grateful for full ink cartridges, freshly clipped fingernails, leftover food, and being barefooted."

I'm still trying to come up with tonight's pithy list.  Not feeling very grateful today, honestly.  But, the exercise of making myself find several unique blessings, even on the roughest days, never ceases to help me.

* * *

"Reflect upon your present blessings 

- of which every man has many - 

not upon your past misfortunes, 

of which all men have some." 

- Dickens

Deployment Journal - Day #9

Today's Best Moments
- My baby's reaction to discovering grass.  Her little brain just burst into happy fireworks.
- Getting out and taking a long walk.  Go me.
- Painting my toenails.  It was worth the loss of sleep.

Today's Self-Talk
- You won't want to do this (chore/task) any more in an hour/a day/a week.  So... just do it now.
- Tidy something.  Email someone.  Turn on music.  Keep plodding.  Pick up those toys.  See?  You're doing this!

Today's Accomplishments
- Consigned more clothes; this is a long and arduous process in rural America, but I make money for cleaning my closet, sooo...
- Clipping all of Baby's finger/toenails in a single day.  Do you have any idea how hard this is?
- Began packing Husband's first box of treats!
- House is clean, diapers are washed/dried/stuffed, yard is within regulations, I'm caught up on email, we're fed...

Today's Contradiction
- Feeling all proud of myself for successfully doing simple tasks.  Then, feeling dumb for feeling proud.  Heh. 

Deployment Journal - Day #8

Went to the park this morning; a mommy-kid playdate was happening, and I was invited.  I didn't originally think it'd mesh with our (Baby's) nap schedule, but when I woke up to her persistent wailing at 4:30 a.m., I decided the schedule was malleable today.  And Momma needed morale. 

It was a hassle getting out the door.  One diaper explosion, several unexpected phone calls, and a malfunctioing laptop (read: serious cause for panic; that laptop is my coping mechanism) we were on out way, only slightly late.  I trotted, even jogged a bit, and hurried around the final corner.

But, no one else was there.  The park was silent.  Motionless.  No birds, even.  I felt like a 3rd grader, with no lunch table to join.  I seriously considered stomping.  Or spitting.

Baby was fussing, so I parked her stroller and set her on my lap, while I aimlessly drifted back and forth in a swing.  Wow, it's been a long time since I've sat in a swing!  These things are super uncomfortable!  Ugg... Must get out!  Man, vice-grip on my hips here!!!Baby began wigging, hysterically.  A rapid check.  Oh wow.  She's ecstatic!  She loves swinging! 

My deflated heart soared; why had I never thought of taking her swinging before?  Of course, my little mover would love swinging!  Ah, swinging.  What fun.  Such a memory.  Too bad I don't have my camera.  We could send Daddy a video.  Ah, Daddy...With a sigh, I stood up and put her back in the stroller.  We'd waited twenty minutes.  Clearly, everyone else had lives that didn't involve loitering at the park.  Like me.  Except, I do have a life.  That's why I can never make these meetings.  Ok, it's because naptime conflicts, but still.  That's life...Now we were walking towards the commissary.  I was hungry.  Breakfast had gotten skipped, and now it was almost lunchtime.  I'd buy some sushi.  Yes, that'd cheer me up.  Walking faster now.

Five minutes later.... there was no sushi.  Not for another half hour.  Gosh.  This is not going well.  I can't afford another half hour; Baby is squirming already.  I despondently rolled past the clearance section... CHICKEN!  Ohmygosh!  50% off, with another $1.50OFF coupon?  Yes, please!  Nothing like coupons to perk me up.  I bought about 5 lbs.  The freezer couldn't fit more, I knew.  Too bad.  What a deal.  I was getting legs and thighs for $0.40/lb.  Go me!

I couldn't resist walking past the park again.  It was on my way home.  Baby was really fussing now.  But, the park route is the shadier one anyway.  Wait - is that them?  Yes.  It was.  There was everyone, mingling and chatting.  They'd all been late.  I almost laughed. 

But, it was too late now.  I had to go home.  The chicken was thawing in the sun, and Baby was pounding the side of her stroller.  I paused, waved, told them about the great sale on chicken, and then headed home.  The hill felt extra long.  The sun was scorching.  The sprinklers were on at an unusual time, so we had to veer around them.  Baby dozed off about two minutes from home.  Dangit.  Maybe I should have just stayed at the park, and had her sleep there?  But, she wouldn't have slept, watching all the kids play - she's so social... Oh well.  At least, I had chicken.  And a brief encounter with society.

Deployment Journal - Day #7

The momentum is fading again.  I constantly want to sleep, or sit, or watch movies... It's not like me.  I keep gauging my depression meter, and I think I'm still safe.  Maybe barely.  I really like curling up under the fluffy down blanket Husband gave me... even when I'm not tired.  It dulls the ache a little.

But, I'm functioning in all other arenas; I had a plan for these first days, and I've executed it almost absolutely.  The house is relatively clean, and we're fed and clothed, and staying in touch with friends and relatives.  Ticking thru projects, too; making photo books, mending dresses, booking flights, hosting guests, even sorting the mail - which I hate. 

So ha.  We're doing this.

* * *

Today, we got caught in the National Anthem, while walking to the library; we paused, respectfully, like everyone else in sight, while the music played and the jets flew over majestically.  It was moviesque.  Even Baby gets very still, as if she understands what's happening.  I wonder what impressions this makes on her mind.

At first, the abundant patriotism almost annoyed me; Reveille every morning, Retreat every evening, Taps after sunset... It seemed like the music would always play, and force me to stop, hazard lights binging incessantly, precisely during the tightest deadlines.  Also, I may a have a lingering grudge that no one told me to stop my driving/walking.moving whenever the music played - so I embarassed myself royally on our first base.

Now, I feel sorrowful that someday, we'll inevitably live off base. I love the rhythm of life here, the mandatory pauses throughout our days; I love that all the neighborhood kids know to scamper home for dinner, after the Star Spangled Banner plays at 5:00.

I imagined myself getting dramatically teary; me, a young mom, whose husband is far away fighting in a war - me, standing in a lonely parking lot, holding our daughter on my left hip, right hand over my heart.  But, I've never been able to cry on cue, and there was no one near to pity me, if I had.  So, we just whispered an extra prayer for Daddy, watched the jets carve across the sky one more time, and walked inside to renew our movie rentals.

Deployment Journal - Day #6

The first week is almost over.  And bedtime is getting easier; I no longer feel weepy when I brush my teeth alone, and the irrational nighttime "what-was-that-sound?!" fears are fading.  Tho' I still carry my cell phone with me, everywhere. 

(Ha.  Like it'd help, if someone really did crash through a window.  But hey.  It's like my security blanket.  Don't knock it.)

Surprising realization of the week:  I really like weeding.  It's cathartic.  Especially that awesome cracking sound when you get an especially big one, along with all its roots, and drag it out into the sunlight...

We went to a neighbor's house for supper (her husband is deployed, too) tonight, then babysat another neighbor's two boys until about 1 a.m. (her husband is home - but there was a military event all evening, and she needed to go along).  The idea was that the boys would sleep for most of their visit, but at ages 1 and 3, who could have expected that in a strange house?  :) 

Also, I ate cherry cobbler for breakfast today.  And lunch, actually.  I found leftovers in the back of the fridge, and despite the 100% natural composition of my whole-wheat, organic, preservative-free dessert, it was totally unspoiled.  So, I decided it was roughly the equivalent of whole grain toast with butter/jelly, and declared it a meal.  Definite comfort food.  Stuff like this keeps you going.

The fridge looks so strangely empty now.  I normally feel annoyed at how fast we blaze through food, and how often I go back to the commissary, three times after I'm sure I got everything.  But now, looking at that odd collection of yogurt, chicken, cheese and juice and a huge head of cauliflower, (how am I ever going to eat THAT?!) I feel mournful.

I can't wait until he's back.

Deployment Journal - Day #5

So. I went back to the city today.  Yes, the same one we went to yesterday.

I know, I felt insane.  But, seriously, there was a good reason. 

Kinda. 

See, yesterday, I tried to turbo-shop Macy's.  That was futile. 

Picture with me: Careening a bag-laden stroller - while politely smiling - between sauntering retirees, trying to beat Baby's late afternoon nap deadline, spinning the stroller round and round, pushing it back and forth, playing peek-a-boo with clothing racks, then setting her on a blanket on the floor and hysterically thumbing through about ten clearance items before she scoots off...

Lather, rinse, repeat.

It timed out after about twenty minutes. 

In the meantime, I found several items that I totally would have purchased - 'cept for their price.  Horrid prices.  So, I exercised self-control, and wheeled my squalling babe to the car, and headed home.

This morning, feeling a tad sulky, I went to Macys.com.  And what do you know?  They're having a One-Day Sale.  50% off everything.  I nearly threw something. 

Do you have any idea how hard it was for us to---?!

After a few seconds of mental sputtering, I reasoned:  Well, today I don't need to go to Costco.  Or anywhere else, for that matter.  So if I were ok with using the gas, I'd have alot more time and flexibility to browse today...

Thanks to my laziness, the diaper bag and other necessities were still setting out.  Or in the car, for that matter.  So off we went... again.

And as guilty as I felt, thirty miles later, I knew it was a good decision.  Incredibly spontaneous for me.  The day was admittedly somewhat inconvenient, cumbersome, and inefficient - tho' we improved our methods from yesterday.

And guess what, people?  Day #5 = Done.

... Who knows when we'll go again.  No predictions this time.  But, we're getting pretty sick of Burger King, so next time I'm bringing my own snacks.

Deployment Journal - Day #4

On the heels of yesterday's vicious blahness, this morning I decisively fed Little One, then packed her, the diaper bag, my cell phone, wallet, and water bottle, and drove a lengthy hour to the nearest mall.  I justified the gas usage because we needed to make a Costco trip, and Costco is about 3 miles from the mall.  But, we needed frozen food from Costco, so naturally I couldn't go to Costco until the end of the day. 

And if I'm gonna use this much gas, it's gonna be a full day.

So, we picked up something for Daddy, and a new top for Mommy, and spent about 5 of the 8 hours in the car feeding Baby-who-can't-focus-if-there-are-people-around, and letting Baby-who-must-have-her-naps sleep in her carseat, and hiding in fitting rooms, letting Baby-who-is-a-wiggleworm roll and squirm and bellyflop around her blanket, giggling uproariously.  The poor people in the next fitting room were so confused.

Really, it wasn't much of a shopping trip.  But, it was ridiculously helpful to have new places to go, new things to look at, distractions galore to occupy my mind.  The ache of missing Husband is constant, but it eases if enough other thoughts crowd it to the side.  Any thoughts, really.  So, an abundance of colors and textures and pedestrians did the job.

But, by the time I got home, unpacked everything, re-organized the freezer, fed Baby, and conjured up some food for myself, I was tired beyond all reason.  I fell into bed around midnight, thinking about my neglected to-do list but hardly caring.

Maybe next week, I'll do this again... 

Deployment Journal - Day #3

Ok, nevermind.  Today, I crashed.  It started with an enthusiastic to plant my carefully-nurtured, sprouting yam in the garden.  My yam has been living, half submerged, in a jar of water for weeks now, and is finally shooting out these amazing leaves and massive root webs.  I was super excited to plant it, to cheer myself up.  So, I Googled how to plant my leafing yam and was promptly informed that now I need to remove the sprouts from the yam, and get them to grow their own roots.

But, that'll take weeks!  It's already mid-summer! 

Thus, began my crummy day.  Adrenaline is depleted, Baby is fussy, I'm bored.

Well, not really properly bored; I'm procrastinating.  I have plenty of projects that I was dying to work on these last several months.  Now that I have tons of time, I couldn't be less motivated.  Go figure.  Yesterday, I tried to catch up on designing photo books, but that involved sorting thru large quantities of sentimental pictures, which doesn't sound appealing today.  I could clean, but the house is already about 85% tidy and that's good enough for me.  I could file all those papers piling on the counter but, well, I'm kinda used to them being there now... they can stay for another week.  Maybe by then, I'll be my normal OCD self again.

I try eating food, but that doesn't help. I call home, but they're busy with life and as much as they try to chat with me, I can tell I'm interrupting their day.  We take a walk, and that helps a little.  A friend comes to visit, and that helps alot.  But, as soon as she leaves, the dreariness was as bad as before she came... Dangit.

A friend once told me, "Some days, it's easier to endure being fired from your dream job than to handle eight consecutive paper cuts."  Today was one of those days.

Deployment Journal - Day #2

Doing better than I expected today.  Feeling competent.  Still feeling hollow inside, but all done crying now.

Well actually, doing laundry makes me teary; I washed the last of his clothes left in our hamper, and felt deeply sad knowing he won't be wearing them again for a long time.  I left his shirts hanging in the laundry room, just like usual.  It weakened the aura of transition.

Staying very busy.  Weeding the yard, hoeing the garden, IMing friends, cleaning out the fridge.  Went to the library.  Got a haircut.  Hosted a girlfriend for dinner.  Took a walk twice today.  Grateful for tea.

Highlight of the day: Remembering to put out the trash, and sort the recycled bin.  Felt rather proud of my ability to manage it all. 

Deployment Journal - Day #1

He left this morning. The days leading up to this were almost worse than the departure itself.

Almost.

We didn't go to the airport to see him off. It didn't make sense, logistically. But it felt strange, foregoing the dramatic farewell you see on TV. But, I'm so glad we said our goodbyes in the privacy of our house.

We had expected our little daughter to stay asleep, but she woke up and wanted to play with Daddy. It was heartrending. Watching him rock her back to sleep for the last time, hearing him sing to her over the monitor, I couldn't stop crying. Her innocent smiles and coos made it worse.

Then, we were fighting the clock. Praying together. Picking which hug and kiss would be our last. It was horrible. He had to drive himself away. I choked on the tears. Walking back inside, I sat down on the couch and sobbed as hard as I could, trying to get them all out. It didn't work. I just kept crying and crying. There! It's over. He's gone. We did it. I told myself. The image of his truck turning the corner kept replaying in my head. I scrolled thru our last pictures. But then, the realization hit me afresh. He's not coming back! Not for a long, long, long time! That truck won't come back AROUND the corner for so many months... Oh God...

Abruptly, I realized I should check the house and make sure he didn't leave anything behind; if he had, and if I found it, he could still come back for it. But no, he'd remembered it all.

The house had been littered with syringes and pills, weapons and gear and uniforms and so many bags. Ever since he got his orders, we both had been sleeping poorly, dreaming vividly, struggling to remember basic information. We felt so muddled, and so overwhelmed by the crazy emotions, and endless to-do lists. Now the strain of trying to get him out the door was gone. I thought I'd feel relief. But nope, I only felt grief.

I impulsively started a game of Tetris, hiccuping while I played. Over and over, game after game. I stopped to drink a cold glass of milk. Decided against calling my husband - it'd only make us both sad again, and now he was surrounded by colleagues. The minutes ticked by, and my baby kept sleeping. I wished she'd wake up.

Maybe I should sleep? No, probably Husband would call once he was alone again, before boarding his plane. I started crying again, mournfully this time, like a small child who has let go of their balloon. I normally resent tears, and fight them, but after this many days of tense, lumpy-throated anticipation, I could not care less.

You should eat something.

No, I might throw up. 

I typed an email. Not sure when he'll get it. I watched 45 minutes on Hulu. IMed a friend. Watered the garden.

Finally stopped crying. Ate ice cream.

Paragraphs Between Girls

Copied from a Facebook message exchange...

* * *Did I sound upbeat? Haha, I'm sorry - I must have been primly whitewashing my true sentiments. =) Or maybe, at 10:00 this morning, life looked rosier to me. That's likely, actually. I was on a productive roll, eight hour ago.

Now, it's 6:26 p.m., Daughter is shrieking (AKA: not napping) upstairs, and I'm emailing Craigslist people in search of a washer - but only a washer; no dryer necessary. (Why do people only ever sell washers/dryers in sets? Are we really that odd? Does everyone else in the whole world buy things in sets? Who can even afford that?! Does nobody else BUDGET?! Because we do! ... which begs the question, why didn't we think to create a spare-sub-savings account for replacing major appliances.?! Ahhh! I am so bad at life!!! Why is my husband never home when I need him?! Etc.)

Thank the Lord, a merciful handyman (who works near here) stopped by and diagnosed the issue, for about 1/4 of what every other repairman would have charged (for an hour's deconstruction of my washing machine) and priced the parts, and helped me conclude that it's not cost-effective to replace them, on such an old washer. So, I ought to be grateful.

I actually was grateful. At one point. I think it was around 4:00 p.m.

But now, I'm grumpy at Craigslist, and wondering if I was wrong to put Baby down for a nap now after all...? And I missed the breastfeeding meeting that I was going to attend (repairman was here late) – when I had bundled myself and Baby up and driven to the building, no one was there. *sigh* Figures. I was kinda hoping for some adult socialization, but really - I'm fine - not like I'm going to die here in my living room. I have Craigslist, after all.

And I'm totally venting to you. *chuckle* Sorry...

Paragraphs Between Girls

Sometimes, I write more honestly to my girlfriends.  See below...

* * *

The final (???) blow of our morale-zapping month came when Husband got unexpected orders to deploy in a few weeks. I seriously cried, intermittently, in little 30 second floods, for the first 24 hours. My attempts to be brave and mature poofed away. I know we'll be fine. I know God will help us. But, it felt like someone had died. And punched me in the gut, simultaneously.

I think that I "think" in order to cope. My brain instantly switched to list mode. Vitamins to order, uniforms I need to mend, legal documents we have to conjure up, recordings we should make for Baby, so she can keep hearing his voice, people to email to cancel our summer travel plans, new plans we need to figure out, etc. Lists. I seriously started scribbling a list of reasons why I'm thankful, and how I can see God has prepared us for this, and how it must be the perfect time... But man, all the losses, too. Christmas, first words/steps, Thanksgiving, his whole season of races he's been training for, enjoying our garden's harvest together, getting credit for the high profile projects that Husband has been dying to do so much for these last months, (but now someone else will take over and get the credit) -- all these just slip away so fast. I try not to picture much in advance, but I guess I had been envisioning plenty...

On the upside, it's head-clearing. The cost of eating salmon for dinner, normally a financial annoyance which we justify knowing how good salmon is for us, suddenly seemed ridiculously petty, knowing Husband will be eating absolute crap, nutritionally, for months. The news made me glad for every time I've inconvenienced myself to go watch him swim, or whenever we've been able to eat together. It made me want to apologize for not doing more…

We arrived late. He swam to the edge of the pool, and waved to us. I lifted my daughter's tiny hand to wave back, as she wiggled excitedly like a puppy, utterly thrilled to see her Daddy.

He smiled gently, ducked into the water, and glided away. A suspicious worry tugged at my stomach. I pulled a toy from the diaper bag, and settled us onto a damp, plastic bench to wait. He finally paused between sets.

"You ok?" I tried to sound casual.

"Yeah." He was trying to sound normal. I could hear the effort.

I paused, unsure how to interpret his tone. "Everything alright?" I rephrased my question.

"Well... I need to talk to you." He pulled his goggles off wearily.

"Ok. Now?"

"... Maybe?"

I walked to his lane, set our daughter on my knee, squatted at the edge of the pool, resisted the urge to interrogate him. She bounced enthusiastically, trying to grab his face.

He swallowed. "I got orders. I just found out."

"You... did." My brain spun into processing mode. "Um, ok. For... when?"

"Pretty fast." His eyes glistened sadly. "I was going to wait to tell you tonight..."

"It's ok." The words were instinctive. I immediately didn't want him to worry.

"I don't have details yet, but I'll try to get some soon..." He glanced down, a reliable tell of suppressed emotions.

"Ok." I suddenly realized how often I was saying that.

But, what else am I supposed to say?

I walked back to our bench, and sat, as the implications occurred to me. Four laps later, he was still underwater and I was choking on tears. Trying so hard not to sob. There were only a few other people in the humid pool building during lunch hour. The lifeguards, a few mothers and kids, one other swimmer. Wonder what they heard, or saw, or can tell...

I tried to act normal, force smiles, keep waving my baby's hand whenever Daddy popped above water for a moment.

She's so little. She'll be so different when he comes back. She loves him so much. They're so close.

Oh Lord, how will we do this?!

For several seconds, I wished we hadn't come to watch him swim today. Then, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for all the times we had come. So glad for all those 5 a.m. mornings, and crazy lunch hours, and late night practices. Anything to be together, even watching from the sidelines.

Oh no, he'll miss all his races! My heart broke, realizing that his entire season was gone. All that practice. All that training. Now, he wouldn't even get to compete.

Darting into sudden escapism, I instinctively began planning dinner.

And he won't be here for the potato harvest! All our precious potatoes, we've cultivated and nurtured! He won't ever taste them!

The tears began squeezing out. I dug in the diaper bag for nothing in particular - just anything to grab, anything to do, any way to hide my face. He resurfaced and saw me bent over. I faked a brave grin, but ineffectively. His shoulders heaved up, then down, suppressing the sadness; he dove back into the water.

Swimming. I wish I were swimming. Pounding, kicking, pushing, reaching...

I sipped from a water bottle. Swallowing helped the ache.

We'll be ok. We love each other. We'll learn how to do this. We'll stay close, somehow. We've been very lucky to dodge two deployments before this. He was here for your pregnancy, and her birth, and first months. Just think how many people don't get that.

He shoved himself up and out of the pool. Time to hurry back to work. But, he stopped to hug me and our little daughter for an extra long moment. His skin was warm behind the cold water droplets. It was so emotional, so vivid. I chided myself for being so melodramatic. After all, this is what all military families do.

The chlorine smell followed me as I walked to our car. Must be in my hair... on my face... I unloaded the stroller, the diaper bag, the baby. This is what it's going to be like. I slid into my seat. I'll always be driving alone. I shifted into reverse.

Maybe I should take up swimming again while he's gone. Yes. That'd be good for me.

I felt comforted for a moment, making plans, regaining a bit of control. I turned onto the main street...

... but, who will take care of my daughter while I swim?

It was too much to try to visualize. Too much loss, too much sorrow. I retreated instead to writing mental lists. Vitamins to order, phone calls to make. At home, I put Baby down for a nap, watered the garden, gathered laundry, started dinner.

And then, I finally cried.