Deployment Journal - Day #44

 



Can I just say that whoever sits next to you, when you're flying with a child, can make your day immensely better? 

 

The 84 year old gentleman who knew just how to lift his glasses and elicit a giggle, the Canadian consultant who played 214 rounds of peek-a-boo, the family doctor from Denmark who introduced my daughter to lemon wedges, waved endlessly, and exclaimed 'Well done, little lady!' with the grace of Julie Andrews - you people all deserve medals.  Bless you.

Deployment Journal - Days #40-43

It was a whirlwind of seeing all the relatives in rapid succession, and then leaving again.  Of nights where Little One woke half a dozen times, clearly worried that I had disappeared and needing reassurance.  Of being back home, and savoring the familiar, and simultaneously realizing that my family's home no longer felt quite like my own.

But, we did procure a carseat.  And we eventually figured out how to install it.  In one car, at least. 

Deployment Journal - Day #39

Today, slightly before 5:00 a.m., we left for the airport.  I felt sure I had forgotten something.  But, everything went smoothly - my obsessively detailed plan for packing the last few items, loading the car, waking and nursing and changing Little One, and emptying the trash one last time worked perfectly.  I re-checked the house twice.  Within ten minutes of our goal time, we departed.  I drank my chocolate milk breakfast and began to decompress.

My sweet neighbor helped me carry the bags inside the airport.  We checked in on time.  TSA was merciful; my visions of inefficiently bumbling with bags didn't happen.  We strolled up to our gate with 45 minutes to spare.

I was basking in my triumph, feeling almost giddy with relief.  Little Daughter was happy, enchanted with the other tiny humans in their parents' arms.  If I'd forgotten anything, at this point, we'd buy it at Walmart.

Several minutes before boarding, a thought whisked across my mind.  Instantly, that icy, electrical shock of adrenaline obliterated my glee.

... I forgot to grab her carseat.  It's still in the car, driving home right now.

Awesome.

Deployment Journal - Day #38

Several days ago, I got a brief note asking if I wanted to write several book reviews for a national women's group.  My friend knew I was interested in some new freelance work, and she didn't have time for this gig; hence, a kind Facebook message to offer it to me.

I panicked.  I still had to find a ride to the airport, and get my spare keys from Neighbor A to Neighbor B, and I hadn't showered in three days, and one more not-on-the-list task felt like just too much.

But, she was right.  I had been looking for this.  It was a great match for me.  (Theoretically.  No one involved knew I was still in my pajamas at 4 p.m.)  I drank a glass of milk and calmly replied that "Suuuure, I'd love to - pass along my info."

Evidently, she did so.  I got an email from the NY editor for said publication.  Could we talk?  Virtually meet?

Ever breezy-on-paper, I repeated my enthusiastic-sounding phrase, "Suuuure, I'd love to!"  In my head, I was thinking, "Noooo, I need at least 96 hours!  Why couldn't this have happened LAST week?"

But, the little optimist on my shoulder said, "What's a quick phone call?  How hard can that be?"  My evil pessimist spat and replied, "Ha!  How little you know!"

Fortunately, nothing happened for a day.  Unfortunately, I spent that day in terror.  Finally, emails were being exchanged, I was explaining my travel schedule, and we were finding a mutually good time to "meet."  It would work out.  

Except that I have no idea how I'm going to squeeze writing into this nutty trip we are about to take...

Deployment Journal - Day #37

Today, husband sent me a photo of himself.  Here is the OPSEC approved version.

I felt immense relief seeing him again.  I also felt this weird "Ugg" reaction.  It was strange to see him wearing atypical gear, posing against a skyline I didn't recognize.

 

And the picture felt so matter-of-fact.  But, it evoked every emotion. 

 

Irritation.  Admiration.  Fear.  Pride.  Curiosity.  Indifference.  Longing.

 

Confession:  The groin guard especially messed with my mind.

Deployment Journal - Day #36

Just trying to get out the door.  It feels like there are a million details to shutting down a house.

If I don't leave the trash completely empty, it will rot for a month!  If I don't clean out the disposal, it will reek by the time we get back!  Must empty refrigerator, too, but not starve self in final hours.  Very tired of drive-thru food besides.  And if I don't ration the diapers just right, we won't have enough disposable ones for traveling - and I won't have time to wash/dry the cloth ones the morning we leave, which is BEFORE 5 a.m.!!!  (What was I thinking...?!)  

And how to pack for fryingly hot Arizona, mellow South Dakota, and damp/cool Vancouver, plus formal/cute clothes, baby equipment (speakers for her iPod, special blankies/stuffed animals/all in one suitcase, sling, letters authorizing her travel, etc) and (this was dumb -->) Christmas gifts?!  (Yes, I really didn't want to ship things.  I'm a tightwad)

I sense the invisible clock, ticking incessantly.  I want to get together with a few friends before leaving.  I want to have another box sent to Husband, and I'm finalizing DVD's for that one - not a quick project.  I want to consign those clothes that are piled in the hallway... One last doctor appointment.  One last walk with a neighbor.  Sure, all these are negotiable, but since I'm not out of time yet, I'm still attempting to do them.  All.  

Silly me.

Deployment Journal - Day #35

Salt and sugars.  Doritoes and Oreos.  Milk in one glass, Martinelli's in the other.  Spoonfuls of Spaghetti-O's in between bites of peppermint bark.

You'd think I was pregnant.  With twins.

... May I never again judge my neighbors' confessions of eating bizarrely during deployments.

* * *

Nights and weekends are still hardest.  Feels like my days are all the same.  And the hours.  They're identical.  And endless. 

I rotate through the same thoughts, the same chores, the same phone numbers.  This must be why solitary confinement works.  An uneventful life combined with deep loneliness is oppressive.

* * *

Happy News: We figured out how to rig Husband's Google Talk account so that I can call and leave him voicemails.  And chatter.  For minutes and minutes and minutes.  And he receives an email with the recording of my chatter.

Ohmygosh, I can talk to him again!  For more than bits of time, (interspersed with constant disconnections/reconnections) when we primarily need to churn through financial, scheduling, and "where did you leave the spare key?" questions.  I think this might work.  

I totally left him three voicemails in a row, despite having almost nothing to say.  YAY!

Deployment Journal - Day #34

Some days, nostalgia is bad.  Drudges up all those emotions you're elbowing aside.  

Other days, it's like chapstick.  It's not medicine.  But, it smooths over open cracks, and gives them a chance to heal on their own.

This is my old bowl.  I used it for many years, when I first lived on my own.  Tonight, I filled it with Ramen and for about 4 minutes, I was back in college.

Then, I smiled, poured out the leftover broth (ohmygoshIforgothowsaltythisstuffis!), and returned to my non-collegiate life:  

Retrieving a dropped toy.  Pulling weeds on my way to the mailbox.  Typing an email to Mother-In-Law.  Slicing zucchini.  Analyzing a book just for the edification of it.

So this is life.  Mmm.

Deployment Journal - Day #33

Today, we were walking past the playground.  A handful of moms, kids, strollers and fruit snacks were splayed across the grass.  A toddler boy was jabbering to a lady in a lawn chair, who chatted back to him in that polite, higher-pitched tone you rarely use with your own children; I smiled politely and strolled past, signaling that I wasn't here to interrupt the play date.

The widening roar of approaching jets began swell.  Mothers instinctively picked up their infants, pressing one tiny ear against Momma's chest, covering the other baby ear with a hand, while casually picking up fallen Cheerios, occasionally popping one into their own mouths with the free hand.  A few ladies yelled over the thunder, but I couldn't hear what they said.

As the rumble faded and I was 20 feet past the group, the non-mother of the toddler boy leaned over her chair's arm rest and asked him, "Did you hear that?  What was that sound?"

I glanced over my shoulder, watching for the inevitable excited-boy answer.  He was so cute, clutching his yellow dump truck, with one wet pant leg stuck above one grassy kneecap.  I bet he loves the jets.  Maybe his daddy or mommy flies one of them.

All wide-eyed and eager, he shrilled: "FWEEDOM!!!"

... and I remembered why I was ok with this lifestyle.

Deployment Journal - Day #32

My stress took a new turn as I tried to make an orange-dream-sherbet cake for the Squadron picnic this week.  Short Story: It took HOURS and massive quantities of effort, and the cake was sub-par.  

It was supposed to look like this:

It didn't look like that.

But, two attempts and four packages of cream cheese later, I called it good enough.

After a carefully plotted schedule that involved Daughter sleeping and waking and feeding EXACTLY on schedule, while I kept the cake frozen, I had planned to - at the last possible moment - put the cake into the pre-loaded-into-the-car-and-pre-chilled-via-bags-of-frozen-strawberries cooler, on top of ice bricks, to extend its life.

It didn't fit into the cooler.  It was exactly .00037cm too wide.  I compromised and put it on top of the cooler, nowhere near the ice bricks.  We nearly died from hurricane-force air-conditioning.

I arrived at the picnic promptly, but the parking was full for several blocks.  By the time I packed Daughter, the cake, the ice bricks to keep the cake cold, a blanket, and my belongings into the stroller, and strolled to the park, I was late.  I had to elbow my way through the crowd to put my cake on the table.  Cake started melting immediately, in spite of the ice bricks.

It all seemed futile, besides - there were plenty of desserts, not mine.  Blah.  Why did I try so hard?  I should have brought M&M cookies from the deli.  Like everyone else did.  All the kids loved them.

Several of my girlfriends ate the smooshy creation, out of sympathy no doubt.  But, I was left with about a quarter of the pan, one part oozing and one part crusting during the scorching drive home.  

Pretty sure I've never enjoyed dumping anything in the trash quite that much.

Deployment Journal - Day #31

It's amazing how much better others' food tastes.  A sweet neighbor, also-currently-husband-less, invited me over for supper tonight.  Bless her.  Virgin Margaritas and taco salad raised morale at least 8 points.  

Rianna needed her evening catnap, so we couldn't stay long - but, one weightless hour, free of responsibility, was perfect.

* * *

Pre-trip stress is rising.  I keep thinking of new things that must be done before we leave, but I haven't gotten through the old things yet.  I know we'll get out the door somehow, but will I forget to empty the trash and leave if to stink for a month?  Or maybe the dishwasher will mold, like it did before when we left it shut.  I have to remember to give the garage door opener and keys to separate neighbors.  Not like that will take very long.  Maybe ten minutes.  But, it all takes ten minutes.  Hundred of ten-minute things.  Pretty sure the minutes exceed the hours I have left.  

But, I'm still so sick; I just keep sleeping, trying to get well, making new lists, and doing small portions, ever adding more...

Deployment Journal - Day #30

Laid low today.  Rather scared of everything; I might break it, or it might break me.  No, seriously.

So I cautiously stuck to laundry, gardening, cleaning, napping, cooking, and trying to pack.  And gradually shutting down the house, and filling out forms, and calculating exactly how many cloth diapers/wash cycles of diapers are required to last until our departure, at 5 a.m. in the morning - when we'll switch to disposable diapers.  (Fellow Cloth-Diaperers, you know this math problem.)

Yes.  I'm feeling very overwhelmed about leaving in a few days.  I was trying to be all chill about it.  I was doing alright, too.  Pacing myself, making lists, trusting that it would "all get done" (somehow - who knows how.)  But now, I'm alternating between hysterical ambition and hopeless exhaustion.  Hourly.

... I think I'll be ok when (if?) I (ever?) get some sleep again.  So, here's to another couch nap.  Mmmm.

Deployment Journal - Day #29

I took a friend with me today, as I re-attempted yesterday's errands.  We did get the box mailed.  Hoorah.  We did not get the tithe check dropped off; they were closed.  (It's a small town.)  I was hoping that another adult's presence in the car would break my streak of bad luck, but this was untrue on multiple counts.  

After leaving the church parking lot, we decided to try the Thai food trailer (everyone raves about their food - but the trailer looks scary) for lunch.  Turns out we needed cash.  (Again, small town - credit/debit card machines haven't made it over the river yet...) So, we went hunting for cash.

One hour and three stops later, (VERY small town - "Dem newfangled ATM machines is of the DEVIL!") we had cash.  

We returned to the Thai trailer.  

It was closed.  For cleaning.  For three hours.

At least, this time, I had a colleague to laugh with me about it.  We bought overpriced Chinese food instead.  That was a mistake.  My chicken alone had a cup of oil attached to it.  Not even going to think about the rice.  We may never digest anything ever again.

Deployment Journal - Day #28

Today, we returned our rental movies to the library, before they were past due.

... And that is the extent of good things that happened today.

See, it's been a long couple weeks.  I've tried not to complain.  But, sleepless nights combined with botched communication attempts with Husband, a teething infant, accidentally frozen debit cards (we forgot our pin #.  Oops.) and ALL the ensuing bank calls/faxes/paperwork, an upcoming month of intense travel, an overgrown yard, this virus I can't kill, all added to several days in which everything I literally touched broke or stopped working...

All that culminated this morning, when we finally made contact with our beloved Husband/Daddy.  See, we mailed our first box to him last week.  And he got it last night.  Yay!  Unfortunately, several of the items that he'd previously needed, and we had scrambled to send him, he now no longer needed.  And he was exhausted when we talked to him, so he was only mildly excited, and my needy ego sunk sadly.  I'd pictured massive amounts of praise and gratitude for all my hard work.  And he was grateful.  Just... also tired.

So, I didn't get mad.  I just felt deflated, and sad.  We had prepared another box to mail, today, and I felt suddenly hopeless that it was worth the incredible effort to drive to the post office and get it sent.  Thus, the day started.

Several hours, one broken dish, and four more laptop crashes later, I was loading the extremely-heavy box into our car.  I had planned to go to "town" immediately after Daughter's first nap/second feeding.  It would be at least an hour-long trip, counting drive time and standing-in-line time, and that was all I could squeeze in.  But, when she woke up, she was sobbing, flushed, hot, and hysterical.  I fed her, soothed her, and began to feel worried; she never acts like this.  She shrieked and shrieked and shrieked for three hours without stopping - like someone was peeling off her toenails.

I summarily nixed the trip to the post office.  We'd go after her next nap.  If she ever fell asleep.  Which seemed unlikely, amidst her inconsolable screams.  We gave her Tylenol, Gripe Water, Saline, and so many cuddles.  I was on the verge of putting her in the car and driving to Urgent Care (tho' I doubted they could do anything, I was completely out of ideas, and doubting my own assessment abilities) when she finally passed out on my chest, dead exhausted.  This left me stranded on the couch, scared to move lest she wake back up.  So, two more hours passed in which I could do nothing I had MEANT to do.  Around 3:45, she woke up.  Much better.  Still sniffling and hiccuping, but clearly better.  Whew!  

Ok, we still had time.  If we hurried.  I flung us into the car.  I even remembered my checkbook, since I wanted to drop our tithe check off at the church.  (Our germs have kept us home most of this month.)  Go me.  We get to the post-office, I assemble her carrier and put her in it, heave the box and waddle into the post-office like a 3rd Trimester pregnant woman, leaning back to offset the weight of the box.  I stand in line for about ten second before I realize...

I forgot my wallet.

A flare of adrenaline shot through my body, like when a huge dog jumps at you or you almost step on a snake.  

No.  No, it must be in the car.

But no.  I had let Daughter chew on it earlier, during her (maybe teething?) episode earlier.  It was probably still on the floor.

I took a deep breath.  Went back to the car.  Realized I had the checkbook.  Hallelujah!  

I opened it.  It was empty.  

Where is the new book of checks?!!!  I almost swore.  Not that swearing has ever made me feel better, even when I indulged in it.  Must still be on the kitchen table.  I had gone through Purgatory to get those new checks.  Why, why, why?!

I sat down in the front seat, wanting to hit my head on the steering wheel slowly, like a movie character.  A quick calculation said it was unlikely, but possible, to get back to base, then back to the post office before 5:00.  Barely.  Maybe.  It was worth a shot.

Halfway to base, it hit me:  You don't have your ID.  It was in your wallet.

A little voice in my head screamed, "Noooooooo!  This can't be happening!"  Daughter was whimpering in the backseat.  She was hungry.  Of course.  What would we DO?  I started calling all my neighbors/friends on base.  Not one answered their cell phones.

I was at the gate.  I tried to persuade them to let me use the identification I DID have (which was mail, addressed to our on-base home, and various vehicle documents, heh.)  Nope, sorry, they were just doing their job.  I understood and helplessly pulled into the lot reserved for idiots who cannot get onto base.  

Into the Visitor Center we went, having unloaded Daughter yet again and she was whimpering louder now - very hungry.  There was no way we'd make it back to the post office today.  I forced a smile and began answering questions to prove my identity to the agent, so he could issue me a temporary pass.

"Drivers License, please," he held out his hand.

"I, uh, it's in my wallet too.  I left my whole wallet at home."

Their eyes bulged.  As if no one else has EVER left their wallet at home.

"Well, ma'am, you can't drive without your license.  We're legally obligated to keep you here until we see your license - it'd violate state and federal regulations if--"

I cut off Barney Fife.  "I hear you.   I understand."  Another polite smile.  "I'll just... keep calling my friends."

We went back to the car.  I kept dialing.  Considered feeding my baby right there, in the parking lot.  Suddenly, I got a call back.  A blessed neighbor was coming to get my garage door opener, and go searching for my wallet.

Twenty minutes later, we were all heading home.  I did drop the movies at the library, though.  Go me.  

Back at home, I sat down on the couch and cried while feeding my very wide-eyed child.  Not sure why forgetting my ID had done it.  But, I was officially overwhelmed.  I'd never get packed for our trip.  I'd never manage to be caught up on projects, laundry, eating, and personal hygiene, on the same day.  I'd never sleep again.  I couldn't even cry right; I sounded like an adolescent seal, whose voice was changing.  Life was hopeless.

So, I ate ice cream.  And tried to laugh.  But, just kept crying.  And I left the dishes, and the crummy counter tops, and messy floors, and unopened emails, and went straight to bed as soon as Daughter dozed off.  We'll try again tomorrow.

And I slept.  For an hour.  And then, Daughter woke up again.  Screaming.

Deployment Journal - Day #27

Would you believe I'm still sick?  Like, you know how during a normal virus, you have one day that is worse than all the others, and after that day, you start to get better?  Well, we've been in that "one, last, worst day" for a week now.

Yesterday, the doctor glanced at me, a bit concerned - I'm voiceless now, so the interview portion of Daughter's exam was at first difficult, and then extremely brief, as we all gave up entirely trying to communicate with me - and he inquired, "Do you lose your voice often?"  I shook my head no, smiling eagerly in an effort to assure him that I didn't have any such conspicuous symptoms of throat cancer or other evil diseases noted for their muting effect.  

And then, I started coughing uncontrollably.  Awkward.  He handed me a tissue.

Conveniently, he's also our neighbor (welcome to the military) so he knows I'm not often this sick, or sick at all for that matter.  He'd know if I was.  His wife would tell him.  It's a small base.

I'm trying to just lie low, take a million showers, and not be impatient.  But, I'm starting to wonder how many more 3 a.m. episodes of Gilmore Girls I can tolerate.

Deployment Journal - Day #26

Today, we cleaned ourselves up and went to the doctor.  Little One still isn't eating solids very well, so we thought we'd consult our military-issued pediatrician, which is a mixed strategy if you want reassurance, since they usually ask at least 57 crazy questions about your child's developmental progress.

"When your child grasps a toy, does he/she use all five fingers, including the thumb?" -- She usually engages 8-9 fingers, combined, between both hands.  Sometimes she lifts her pinky finger, like she's drinking tea, but usually not her thumb...

"If your child hits his/her head accidentally, does it take less than 3 seconds for him/her to cry/react?" -- Uhm, maybe 4 seconds, on average?  3.5?  I haven't been timing it.  ... IS THAT BAD?!

"Does your child roll from back to front, and front to back, equally?" -- It's probably a 62/38 split, actually, in favor of her left side.  But only when she's hungry - if she needs a diaper change, it's closer to a 52/48 split, in favor of her right side -- if the moon is full.

These things will make you question your parenting skills, even if you're James Dobson.  Fortunately, our pediatrician is super relaxed.  We suspect he chuckles at the standardized questionnaires and mandatory schpeals,  too.  Thus, we like him.  

Today, though, Little One was clingy.  She's been this way ever since Daddy left.  Combine the natural Stranger Danger phase with the sudden absence of your favorite person ever, and you get a very whimpering little girl.  She resisted the nurses, sobbed while being weighed, and kicked when they tried to measure her length.  Normally the paradigm of cheerful friendliness, she glared at the technician, and hid her face in my neck, and wouldn't smile at anyone.

But then, Dr. T arrived.  He's great with kids.  "Hi, precious girl!"  He was all smiles and disarming body language.  She hesitantly emerged from my neck, and cautiously looked him up and down, assessing his uniform from boots to his chest rank.

A deeply confused look crossed her face, and she looked at me inquisitively.  "Dada?  Dada?"

Aww!  No, Darling.  He's not Dada.  They just wear the same clothes.  I know, so confusing.  Dada still lives in my cell phone, and in my laptop, remember?

It broke my heart a little.  

I'm glad she won't remember this incident.  She sure hasn't forgotten Dada, tho'.

Deployment Journal - Day #25

Going to bed has never been my thing.  I'm a true night owl; typically, I find myself crawling in bed about 90 minutes after saying, "Ok, I'm going to bed now - REALLY, I am this time."  

And I entered this deployment consciously, perhaps cockily, opposed to being one of those wives who "just can't sleep" without her husband, yet who whine about being exhausted all the time.  

But, it's true.  It is much harder.  I try not to whine about a situation I am largely creating myself, but the stress, the dreams, the emotions don't help any.  (Tip: Ibuprofen does help.)  Less than the actual challenge of falling/staying asleep is my struggle to walk up those stairs.  To turn off the lights.  To brush my teeth alone, and get in bed, read my Bible, and lay down.  

Honestly, I'd rather Google all night.  Facebook and Foxnews get boring around midnight, but Google is always there for me.  

"Uses for citric acid."  
"Crafts to do with leftover glass bottles."  
"Word of the Day."  
"Weather in Maldives."  

Oh yes, and Pinterest!  Pinterest is always there for me, too, at all hours when I ought to be sleeping.  I just keep hitting the down arrow, again, and again, and again...

And this is how websites make addicts.

Deployment Journal - Day #24

Today is our Wedding Anniversary.  It is bittersweet.  These roses melted my heart, but there was no chance of seeing my husband, or kissing him, or even thanking him - not for many, many days.  It made me cry.  (I've been crying a lot lately.)

But, I'm grateful that we currently have a strong relationship.  Many spouses leave on a deployment, unsure if they'll come back to divorce papers.  Many spouses have worse deployments than this one - longer, harder, riskier.  Many military members don't have spouses at all, and wish they did.

Many of our previous anniversaries have been hard, too.  One year, we were beyond hopeless and wondering how anyone ever builds a successful marriage.  We weren't sure if/how we could go on, and suddenly understood why people do divorce each other.  That kind of despair was more painful than this separation, honestly.  But, we rebuilt from that point, and God's unbelievable ability to redeem anything was etched in my heart forever.  

... I would miss him less, if he were more of a jerk - if we were still struggling like we were, during that horrid year.  So, the fact that I miss him this much is a good thing.

But, even just typing that, I roll my eyes at how clique it sounds.  Like a glib, sentimental, lame attempt to paint Pollyanna-ish cheer over a genuine misery.  It's the kind of remark I would despise if someone else said it.  *chuckle*  Maybe I'm not explaining very well.

I guess what I mean to say is, I'd rather be miserably lonesome for him than glad that he's gone.  I've seen wives who really do sigh with relief and almost celebrate when their husbands head out the door.  Every so often, I kinda envy their ability to effortlessly enjoy deployments; as long as they're busy with activities and hobbies, they seem to hardly miss their spouse.  

But, my person is gone.  And I feel it deeply, constantly.  I don't want to mope or be unhealthily codependent.  He's gone, and I need to function within that reality.  But, I don't want to function too well without him either.  I want there to be a palpable gap in my world, because there is an actual gap in my world.  And maybe it's naive to think this, but I sometimes hope that if I maintain this gap, it'll be easier to reintegrate when he comes home...

For now, I'm going to let myself feel his absence for what it is - and not anesthetize it too fast.  For today, I have fragrant flowers and a quiet house, both together.  That's my reality.  It's a little emotionally incoherent, but accurate, too.  

Part of me wants to downplay our anniversary; what's one day vs another in marriage anyhow?  Each day is just its own memory, its own triumph or battle.  The days all kinda bleed together, really, after a while.  Right?  

Well, kinda.  But, it's just nice to celebrate anniversaries together.  I wish we could have this one together.  I picture us talking, and cuddling, recounting how we've changed and grown and the humorous (in hindsight) collisions of personality that have made us the couple we are now...

Maybe next year.

Deployment Journal - Day #23

Today was our last phone call with Husband for a long time.  It was horribly ironic, because try as I might, I couldn't even croak.  I hissed, "I LOVE YOU!" seven times before he guessed that was what I was trying to communicate... so, mostly I listened to him and tears rolled down my cheeks.  I think I'm legitimately too exhausted to be brave, but I felt like a royal wimp.  And I felt truly bitter that I was sick, and voiceless, on possibly the worst day ever...

* * *

K, I'm (mostly) over my self-pity session now.  I pulled myself together, and drove to the library to exchange our movies rentals, much to the chagrin of the librarians, who acted like I had the plague.  Small wonder, I do sound horrible.  I tried to assure them (while choking and whispering fervently) that I was in-no-universe still even-remotely contagious, but they covered their faces while swiping my video barcodes and waved me away furiously.  What a cheering bunch.  But hey, I have movies for another week.

* * *

I pushed the stroller to a nearby garage sale tonight.  Scared the neighbor ladies a tad with my voice, but most of their husbands are doctors and the men seemed to hardly notice my wracking cough and crazy voice.  Whew.  I bought two sleepers and one dress with the spare coins floating around my purse and felt duly triumphal.  And suddenly dizzy.  

So, we headed home to drink more broth and watch movies.

Deployment Journal - Day #22

Still unbelievably sick.  But, had to get some fresh air or I might have died.  So, I harvested some of our garlic and some of our potatoes and made soup.  Very garlicky soup.  And I ate a huge bowl, which cleared out my sinuses, for about four minutes.  And then, I laid on the couch, crying silently (because I can't so much as croak) because I was so unspeakably exhausted, and because the dishes were in the sink for a fifth day.  And potatoey dishes are the worst to clean.  Bad, bad me.  

Baby wasn't anywhere near ready for bed, because gosh - she hasn't been properly exercised all week.  But, I had given my 5% capacity to the garden.  Possibly stupidly, but it was too late for self-flagellation.  Still, I had no energy to play with her very entertainingly (she likes it best when I bounce around the room like a caffeinated rabbit, see).

So we watched a movie, and felt horribly guilty that my infant was watching it with me.  All these things I thought I'd never do... And all the people I judged, when they said they were doing things they'd sworn never to do... heh.

But, I hushed my inner critic.  We're staying alive, and I'm pretty sure that's all my husband wants.  We'll attempt ambition tomorrow.

Deployment Journal - Days #18-21

Super sick.  So sick.  May God bless the neighbor who brought me soup, and the friend who left a "Get Well Soon" care package (magazines, canned goods, juice) on my porch, and the neighbor who rolled my trash can back from the street so I wouldn't get a nastygram from the Base Inspectors (who are crazy sticklers about the "No trash cans on the street after 6 p.m." rule)  God bless everyone who offered sympathy.  But man.  I'm sick.  Ridiculously sick.  

I would have caved and gone to the hospital and demanded drugs, except by the third day, when I realized I was losing this battle to whatever evil virus this is, it was Friday night so my doctor was at home grilling burgers, no doubt, and I would have to go to ER, and (a) I didn't feel like exposing Baby to whatever super-evil germs are there and (b) I know enough about medicine to know that they can't do much to help me through a virus, other than attaching me to an IV for another 48-72 hours... which I considered requesting, but the logistics of ever breastfeeding around an IV again were a severe disincentive.

So.  We're still at home. Quarantined.  I have a ghastly cough now, and no voice, (Zero. You cannot hear me. I am less audible than a slowly-leaking tire.) which completely freaks Baby out.  I feel so bad for her.  She keeps crying and tugging on my mouth, as if to say, "Speak to me, Momma!  This is so weird, having you silent!"

... the only upside of this may be that I let her play the piano for the first time.  And she LOVED it.  Maybe just because it was noise.  But still.  She seems to love music, which warms my heart.  May she always enjoy it.

And I'm off to take my 3rd shower of the day now.  Pray for me.