On Reintegration

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. - I Peter 5:10

* * *

I was so afraid of reintegration.  Sometimes, for many people, it goes quite horribly and you hear all about those stories.

We tried very hard to stay close, emotionally.  We did everything that the books and counselors and briefings tell you to do.  We were pretty systematic and utterly obedient.  And ultimately, our reintegration went really well!  The first week was beyond honeymoon-ish, the second week was definitely above normal, in terms of morale and tolerance for each others' flaws, and by the third week things were mixed - but not badly.  We worked through it, and life is starting to feel pretty... normal again.

I mean, Husband still flinches and struggles in certain regards, because of what he experienced - and I'm quick to tense and accuse him of not understanding or not appreciating all I did/am doing.  We've talked to a counselor, once, and that helped.  We're having to be intentional about our reactions, maybe more than usual.  But, still.  We're not derailing, y'know?

I feel like God is simply helping us.  And we're trying to focus on the positive.  A LOT.  And have tons of fun.  I'm kinda bad at creating fun; I'm better at creating productivity.  (Well, kinda.  Not if my days lately are any indication, heh.)

But, we celebrated Christmas (in February) together! 

We went to the aquarium; Little One loved it so much, she couldn't scream loudly enough.

We went out to eat, and at more-expensive-than-normal restaurants, and outdoor ethnic markets  

We discovered Horchata, and Sierra Trading Post, and took long drives just to talk, while Little One napped in the back seat.  

Husband made all our food decorative again.  Even Spaghetti.  And he helps me use up the produce, (like cabbage.  how on earth do you use up a whole cabbage?!) before it starts rotting.  

And he made wee omelettes and oatmeal for Little One, every morning.  And I slept in.  

And she promptly started nursing exactly HALF as often, immediately.  It really was emotional.  And she started obediently sleeping through the night, as soon as we set her on our knees and told her she needed to.  Wow.  The impact of two, united parents is crazy.

Life is so much better with him home.  SO much better.  Everything is sweeter.  And more doable.  It's a little surreal for both of us to function with, like, almost no fear at all.  He got a little creeped out the first time we walked down the street, to buy groceries.  And when the neighbor's dog thudded against the wall.  And when they test the sirens on base.  I'm overly sensitive, and easily hurt/offended, and when we do have a fight, it feels like the end of the world.  Little One often cries when he leaves now, and signs/calls for "Dada!" over and over.  

But, we're doing this.  And it's not so horrible.  And I thank God.  I'm not arrogant enough to think we created this on our own.  

HOMECOMING

Deployment Journal - Day #210

I wasn't nervous anymore.  I was just numb.  I didn't know what to envision.  Would our reunion be teary?  Nonchalant?  I'm not the kind of person to run weeping into a long-lost's arms... yet, I totally do picture that, in my head.  Too many sappy, morning-show, homecoming videos, maybe?  I was concerned about Little One; how would she handle it all?  How would I?  How would he?  I had also this somewhat irrational fear that this plane, the final link to bring him home to us, would crash.  I couldn't shake it.  I felt so guarded, so anxious, so thrilled, so muddled.

The morning was all logistics.  How to get the house clean, while a Toddler excitedly un-cleaned behind me.  How to get in the car on time, early enough to appeal for Gate Passes (which means standing in long, baggage lines with all the other passengers) but late enough that Little One would be tired enough to sleep on the way - not so overtired she'd scream for the whole drive.  

Several things went wrong.  I slept through my alarm.  I never do that.  I'm sure it means something psychologically, when you fail to wake up on a day that you're not sure if you're dreading.  But, in any case, it totally threw off my careful plan.  We did get in the car, but later than my ideal, and I borderline hyperventilated for most of the hour-long journey.  I finally started calling people, and leaving voicemails, to calm myself.  It felt weird that I was still numb.

Baby slept like an angel.  I woke her to feed her in the parking garage.  It was all going smoothly.  But, I'd worn the most impractical, uncomfortable heels in my closet.  I always forget how bad they are, heh.  But today, we had to walk over snow and ice and slush in them, while carrying a 20 lb child and several awkward parcels.  No, I didn't grab her stroller.  Also dumb.  But, on the off-chance that we did get gate passes, I didn't want one more item to take through security.  

I got suddenly dizzy, entering the terminal.  I realized I wasn't breathing.  I stopped, readjusted my hanging baby, (how do you teach them to grip you with their wee legs again?!) inhaled several times, and noticed I was quivering from neck to fingers to ankles.  So much adrenaline.  Maybe I could convince myself that this was off-the-chain levels of excitement?

We met up with our photographer at this point.  She was so calm and not-terrified.  I tried to act calm.  In reality, I chattered blindly.  After staggering through the wrong line once, fumbling with my wallet, nearly leaving my military ID on the counter, and jabbering  like a caffeinated bird, we had gate passes.  Hallelujah.  Security did not go smoothly, (I somehow had more stray items than when we travel) but Little One was sweet and just getting through more steps of the process was helping me.  Faintly.

A long walk later, we were at the gate 25 minutes before his arrival.  I chatted more with the photographer, and outgoing passengers overheard our conversation.  An older couple got very teary-eyed, and he handed me a wad of dollar bills: "Go take your husband out to dinner, somewhere real nice."  I choked back abrupt tears.  Another elderly woman offered to take video with my camera, if I'd show her how to do it.  Teaching her used up several minutes.  Yay.  

Then, I noticed the airline staff scuttling around.  Was the plane arriving early?  I went to ask.  "Yes, it'll be here in about three minutes."  Holy macaroni, I was glad we'd arrived so early! 

I suddenly got a text from Husband.  (FROM HIS OWN CELL PHONE!  HIS REAL PHONE!)  The plane had landed.  Oh no, I'd forgotten to tell him we'd gotten gate passes; I'd promised to text him!  I fired off a quick "AT GATE!" text, hoping his phone would receive it promptly.  Then, we began waiting.

Passengers streamed off the plane.  I, the photographer, and a whole crowd of people were craning our necks to seen down the curved jetway, trying to glimpse him.  But, he didn't come.  Five minutes and three false-starts of our video camera later, the people stopped streaming off the plane.  Even the pilots had deplaned.  I was starting to feel sick.  Had he died in the past two minutes?  Were we at the wrong gate?

Then, I saw a flash of camouflage.  It was running, bouncing up the corridor.  I started crying, called out "He's coming!" and began narrating to Little One, "There he is!!!"  The numbness caved in.  He was crying, I was sobbing, tears were dripping off my chin, and it was impossible not to rush together.  

Everyone cheered.  Others cried.  Not like they had reason to, like we did, but it was pretty much like a movie moment.

She wasn't scared of him at all.  Being accosted by a giant green person messed with her a little at first, but within minutes, she was stroking his face and clearly knew this was Daddy, come back to us, finally.

She didn't want him to hold her yet, but murmured hushed "Da-Da"s all the way to baggage.  I couldn't stop quivering.  We look so oddly normal in all the photos.  In reality, it was the biggest emotional rush EVER.  

Reunion joy doesn't compensate for the months of deployment misery, but man; such unspeakable joy.

So this is love.

Deployment Journal - Days #206-209

Here, I went blog-silent.  We were going a little crazy, trying to cleeeeeeeeean everythiiiiiiiiiiiing before Daddy got home, while also getting some sleep and food - at least, enough to help us weather this immense emotional experience.  I was also hormonal, and Little was teething, so the fact that his return date was actually holding steady was both exhilarating and terrifying.

So, we did what we needed to, to survive.  Like letting her play in the fridge.  Yes, I know it wastes energy.  But, she only has like a two minute attention span right now, and for those whole two minutes, removing and replacing condiment bottles works like magic.  Try not to judge me?

Deployment Journal - Day #205

Today was fueled by 35 blessed minutes of warm sunshine.  We huddled in the nook between our house and garage, where the wind couldn't reach us but the sun could.  It was divine.  I strategically handed bits of junk mail to Little One, who delightedly tore and threw; I chased and retrieved.  Meanwhile, her face and my toes soaked up Vitamin D like crunchy sponges. 

Just when I thought the weariness was simply too heavy... there was the sun.  We can do this.  Just a little bit further.

Deployment Journal - Day #204

We got our homecoming banner today.  Little One was fascinated by this new toy, poking and pulling at it.  I told her excitedly, "This is for Daddy!"  She got very wide-eyed, and instantly knelt to hug and kiss it.  You can't script these things.  I still can't get her to moo or meow or talk on camera, for our eager relatives to see.  But, I somehow managed to snap this photo.  

No photo can capture our glee these days, however.  I've pretty much stopped sleeping.  It's ridiculous.  But, so awesome, too.  I wasn't even this excited for our wedding day.  Here's hoping I can sustain this level of anticipation until he actually gets here.  =D

Deployment Journal - Day #203

Between our impending move (ok, fine - we still have months, but it feels impending), Husband's imminent return, and an overdue desire to declutter, I've been in full-out purging mode lately.  The reason we are still-not-quite-unpacked is because I substituted "putting clothes away in closets/drawers" with "oh, let's just clean out that closet/drawer before I put more in it."

Dumb?  Maybe.  Still not sure.  But, there are piles EVERYWHERE.  And Little One LOVES destroying my piles. Can you blame her?  SUPER fun to toss fifty or so items over your shoulder and then fall backwards into them.  

And now, we have a deadline - I really don't want the house to be this messy for Husband's return.  Oh, and we lack a vacuum.  Not that it exactly matters, since the carpet is covered by piles.  But, for some reason, lacking a vacuum feels immense.

So, I went to the BX to finally buy a new one... and I came home with this cute, little pitcher.  (See above.)  It was marked down from $20 to $2.  That's about my margin for purchasing unnecessary extras, so I totally bought it.  And set it next to my yet-unpacked box of delivered-to-my-door fruit/vegetables.  In lieu of cleanliness, it makes me happy.

And I've used a ton of hyphens in this post.  Hmm.  Well.... yay for hyphens.

Deployment Journal - Day #202

Now we twitch between rushing around trying to do everything we meant to do across the last half year, and simply not caring and letting him come home to a messy, normal home.  Part of me wants to do everything in advance of his coming home, so we can just lie around (and so he can be very impressed with me.)  But, part of me just wants him to come home, and have him help do all this.  *grin*  

I feel a mix of emotions.  I'm nervous about reintegration.  I think we've stayed close, emotionally.  I feel like we've stayed connected.  We sure have tried.  But, we still haven't lived together or done life together for ages.  Little One has doubled in age, and many details from his world in particular have been veiled from us for months.  I don't know if he's been shot at; I don't know if he's mentally different.  I know he'll be jetlagged.  I know he's psyched to come home and we can't wait to have him home.  I know the euphoria will fade.  I just don't know how things will settle after that.

Before Daughter was born, I felt similarly anxious. Change was coming; adjustment would have to happen - but I wasn't sure how to picture any of it.  

And Husband wisely remarked, "It'll probably be like when we were first married."  
"But, that was horrible!" I winced.  "I don't want to do that again!"  
"Well, ok - but basically our old normal may go away -- but, if we wait long enough, there will be a new normal... It will come.  We just need to outlast the icky middle phase.  And communicate along the way, and not take it personally if we or the other person doesn't feel what we expected."

So... since I haven't been able to talk to him much lately, this is my game plan.  Lifted from our old game plan.  Wish me luck.

Deployment Journal - Day #201

WE HAVE A RETURN DATE.

And I cried.  He told me late one night, when we were able to talk, and I couldn't sleep half the night.  

He's coming home.  

It's a thought I haven't really let myself think.  It's been too crippling, too huge, to ever gaze at large portions of time.  

Of course, he's always been "coming home someday" - but, I've been wary of counting days.  Seems like it just slows time even more, when you do that.  And my Little One has no appreciation of time; I mean, if there's even a 30 second delay between me suggesting that she drink/eat, and when the food actually appears, she comes unglued.  So... we function in the short-term around here.

But now.  He's coming home.  And sooner than I'd braced for.  Right on schedule.  (When does that ever happen?!)

I totally used today's entire morning naptime/productivity window to order homecoming supplies.  And I cried.  And I stretched my arms and legs and toes and fingers obsessively, to try to ease the crazy, nervous excitement in my body.

And then, I started worrying that something would happen to him on his journey home.  Heh.  Naturally.

But, we still went to the Commissary and bought ingredients for pot roast.  And suddenly became very, very productive.  

Morale just rose, like, fifty points.

Deployment Journal - Day #200

It is amazingly surreal to type "Day #200."  Has it really been that long?  I mean, it feels that long.  Longer, even.  But, it's still amazing to think... 200 days.  Wow.  No wonder I'm ready to be done.

Here lies today's disaster.  In an effort to be slightly-too-industrious, I headed to the commissary for a quick errand, quite confidently thinking that I'd turned off the burner reheating our pasta.

And y'know those smoke alarms that go off when I saute onions?  Well, they didn't go off when our house filled with smoke.  Ugg.  I don't know if the pan is salvageable.  It is so unbelievably burnt.  

I had the presence of mind to put the pan out in the garage to cool - where the billowing smoke wouldn't (ironically) set off the smoke detectors, now that I was home (and not in the mood for one more annoyance.)  I set the pan on our straw doormat, because I was pretty sure that if the scorching hot pan touched the ice-cold pavement, something would crack forever.  Probably the pan.

Also, it made me feel slightly calmer to begin cleansing the house, with the evil pot out of sight.

I put the groceries away.  I made guacamole for dinner.  We ate an entire bowlful.  Needed to use those avocados anyhow, heh.  And Little One loved it, yay.  She patted my head at one point, as if to comfort me.  Actually, turned out she was just grabbing at my hairclip, but hey.  It felt comforting.

After she was in bed, I went out to investigate the pot, which had been crackling loudly like a bowl of nuclear rice crispies.  It was cool now.  I sighed, took the above photos, and picked up the pot.  The mat came up with it.

... The pot had melted our straw mat to itself.  Didn't even know that could happen.

Deployment Journal - Day #199

Ever feel like there's this set amount of time in which you inevitably, unconsciously procrastinate, even while staring at your screen, with fingers on the keyboard, before you actually start writing?  

Lately, it takes me a consistent two trips to the kitchen, thirteen or so random YouTube videos, twenty minutes of websurfing, and (lately) one ice cream bar before words start coming.  It's ridiculous.  The clock needs to read at least 10:30 before I start making progress.

Also, I may be the most discontented person out there.  When I need to write a book review, all I want to do is blog.  But, when I sit down to blog, I want to clean the kitchen.  Shower.  Organize a closet.  Practice piano.  Do yoga.

Anything except what I'm supposed to be doing.  Heh.

This is truly a testament to my sin nature.

True Life

Deployment Journal - Day #197

I feel much more in control of life at certain moments.  Like when my sink is empty.  And when I'm pulling out of the driveway, with snacks and toys and supplies and a happy child, on time.  Or when I'm methodically vacuuming the carpet.

* * *

Heath bars are amazing.  I'd totally forgotten them until I ate a Daim bar (roughly the Swedish equivalent) at World Market the other day.  And then, I rushed to the BX, and bought a whole bag of teeny-tiny Heath bars.  Heh.

* * *

Watching old TV shows (Dick van Dyke, I Love Lucy, Andy Griffith) make me feel insecure.  How DO those women keep such perpetually clean living rooms?!

* * *

I'm so grateful for voicemail.  And hot showers.  And that Little One survived her test-babysitting (only ten minutes of crying, and then she settled.)  And I got to fill up our gas tank without a crying baby.  Also, for naps.  And chapstick.  And waterproof boots.

Deployment Journal - Day #196

Things I wonder as I go through my day:

How do other moms of one child amuse their children during long, solitary drives?

Will these new Iron Vitamin Drops stain my newly whitened cloth diapers?  Permanently?

Where exactly do you learn how to organize the stuff that you don't know how to organize...?

Who invented Marshmallows?  

What exactly is my attentive, inquisitive, perpetually-gazing-at-me little daughter taking away from my behavior?  Please tell me she doesn't notice my nail-biting until age 2?  (Doubt it.  Must kick habit right now.)

Why can't putting fresh sheets on a bed be more like the morning scene in Disney's Cinderella (birds, songs, airy bedding) and less like putting an elephant in pajamas?

Deployment Journal - Day #194

I know I've been suppressing emotions.  I can feel it.  I'm more level, more stoic, more annoyed by anything emotional (music, concerned/inquisitive people, beauty, memories, photographs).  I'm coping better than two months ago, but I can tell there are things deep inside me - and I'm not even sure what they are, but they're there.  I'm a little nervous they'll all spill out when he is home.  I really don't want that.  Could be gory.

So, the other night, I was washing dishes and decompressing from a tough day when the thought spontaneously hits me:

He's coming home soon.  He's going to be home with us again soon.

And I started bawling.  Grip-the-sink, hang-on-and-bend-those-knees BAWLING.  For about three minutes.  

But, what a relief!  I quickly wiped the tears away afterwards, gasping and laughing confusedly.

Well... at least that's less I'll need to cry when he arrives... right?

Truthfully, I'm not sure how I'll react to his homecoming.  I remember vividly imagining, as a kid, running dramatically to reunite with my old friends.  (We moved a lot.)  But, in reality, I'd always just answer the door with a big grin.  In my head, I was running.

Part of me wants to be openly weepy and hysterically elated, like those homecoming videos you see on the local news, and part of that isn't sure if that's "me."  It never has been before.

Then again, I've never been separated from my husband for this long before.  

I guess we'll just see how it goes.  I'm trying to be fine with whatever reaction, however picturesque or anticlimactic.  

I'm too self-conscious not to care at all about appearances, heh.  But, I care a lot less than I normally do.  

I just want him home now.

Deployment Journal - Day #193

There is so much I don't get done every day.  I meant to send that birthday card, wanted to wash the bedding, vowed to do yoga no matter what came up, juice the oranges before they rot, organize, vacuum, blog.  At some point every night, I have to just quit.  Soak the dishes, walk up stairs, lie down.  

Need to finish that photobook.  Clean up those files.  Scrub the toilet.  Write that darn book review.  Reply to nine ignored emails.  

The list isn't finite.  It has no end.  

I must still think it does.  I keep trying to reach that end.

* * *

Sign language is revolutionary for Little One.  She learned new signs somewhat instantly, implementing them immediately and forevermore.  My job is to deduce which new sign she needs to learn.  I.e. What current lack of communication/sign is the biggest frustration in her world.  

So far, our most successful identification of what she was trying to say occurred when I taught her the sign for "Music."  

Oh my, this kid loves music.  Her mobile, which plays Brahms.  The toy phone, with a song button.  The musical cardboard books from Grammy.  The song she wants me to sing, while changing her diaper.  The nursery rhyme game she wants to play.  The radio.  Recordings of Daddy singing to her.

Because "Music" can signify a few dozen options around here, it's a game, trying to deduce exactly which form of music she wants.  

But, she's pretty good at indicating.  Signing "Music" while pounding my laptop lid, then signing "Sleep?"  (Lullabies)  Signing "Music' while trying to clicking laptop mouse.  (Means: YouTube.)  Signing "Music" then wriggling all her fingers above her head and squealing?  (I WANT TO PLAY THE PIANO.)

Her mental economy is simple right now.  She takes life one need and desire at a time.  She still confuses needs and desires (don't we all?) but she is infinitely better than I am at simply going from one to the next.  She sleeps until she's rested, and then she wakes and wants food.  She nurses until she's satisfied, then plays piano for a while.  

It's a good approach to life.

Deployment Journal - Day #192

Today, the toilet got fixed for real.  This was the third visit from a repairman, and this guy finally just installed a whole, new, shiny, metal hose.  Hoorah.

However, the garage door failed for the 3rd day in a row, for a completely new reason:  It was frozen to the ground.  So, when you pressed the button and it tried to open, the ceiling runner would bend and groan and started ripping off the walls.  So, I stopped pushing the button, and called Maintenance, a little wide-eyed.

They were not sympathetic.  
"Well, we're not sure when we can get to you--"
"Oh, uhm, I'm trying to GO somewhere and I kinda can't leave my house until you--"
"Ok, well maybe we can get you in today?  We just had an emergency call from another resident."
"Well, my garage door runner just ripped partially off the ceiling."
*long pause*  "Ok, we'll do you second," he conceded.
I smiled weakly, recalculating my day while dragging Little One back out of her carseat.  "Thanks."
"Will you be home during the next two hours?"
*my own long pause*  "Uhm, yes.  Evidently, I can't leave.  Because the garage door--"
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah - ok, we'll be there as soon as we can."

I hung up, chuckled, and thought, "Morons!"  Then chided myself for silent name-calling.

The Maintenance Dudes are actually quite a bit more competent than their dispatcher.  So they told me to boil some water, (my gosh, are we having a baby?!) and then we poured tubfuls down the front and back of my garage door to free us.  It was quite simple, and I could have done it myself.  I could not, however, have re-rigged the tension and cables and chains that got messed up when I first pushed the button.

So we were all hanging out in the garage for quite a while.  I couldn't resist asking, "Don't you have best practices for this?  I mean, what do the bases up in Alaska do?  It's much colder there - do their garage doors all freeze shut?"

"Dunno.  We don't make a lot of long-distance calls to find out.  Too 'spensive."

Life is humor.

Deployment Journal - Day #191

These are the two photos I sent to Husband after I found he told me that our mystery plumbing valves are out in a closet, in our garage.  Counter-intuitive, no?  I mean, I'm not a plumber, but I can't think of a less logical place to put a lever that needs to be rapidly accessed to stop massive flooding.  Heh.

So thankful for digital photos, and the ability for him to coach me from 7000+ miles away, via email.

r

Now, first I couldn't figure out how to turn the little diamond-shaped valve.  Turns out, there's a unique tool you have to use.  

Husband knew about the tool.  

Second, the valves are mislabeled.  (The "Bath No 2" valve does NOT connect to Bathroom #2.  Furthermore, the "Master Bath Toilet" does not connect to our Master Toilet, because we don't have a Master Bathroom.  =)  Nor does the "Master Bath Toilet" valve connect to the bathroom nearest, or even on the same floor, as our Master Bedroom.  Ironic, eh?) 

Husband didn't know about the inaccurate labels.

I'm totally going to write on the wall in permanent marker. Kindly spare future inhabitants some of our grief.

... I finally got the toilet valve closed which means the leaking finally stopped for the first time in four days.  Hallelujah.  I ate a Haagan Daas bar, and started a load of sopping, messy towels.  Soon they will be clean and fluffy again.  And eventually, my toilet will work again, too.  The repairman will come.  Someday.  I have faith.

I'm officially paranoid about ever renting a one-bathroom house, however.

Deployment Journal - Day #190

We're slowly crawling to our feet again.  We've slept a little, eaten a little, cleaned a little, unpacked a little.  Nothing is done, but most of it is started.  It is slow progress with a little one, I tell you.  Her favorite game is removing items.  We're working on putting them back where they belong - clearly, the less interesting game for both of us.

I've set the smoke detectors off four times in a week.  Pretty sure it's their fault, not mine.  Every time they go off, there is no smoke - just hot oil, usually sauteing veggies.

Today, when I was frying bacon, they went off.  I promptly turned off the burner, threw open doors and windows, then rushed towards the smoke detector with a towel in my hand and Baby on my hip.

I waved and jumped and flung that towel back and forth, trying to make the incessant screeching beeping stop.

And Little One guffawed like you wouldn't believe.  She wanted her own towel to wave.  I gave her one.

Cutest tiny mimic on earth, that one.

Deployment Journal - Day #189

There's so much information to exchange during each precious phone call.  Logistics, updates, stories from our world, stories from his, hopes, dreams, plans, finances, when we'll next talk, people dynamics, health, family news.  

Sometimes this rapid exchange of mundane details is laborious, but often it's comforting.  His knowing that I just changed the air filters and emailed his grandparents is trivial, sure - but, it helps ease the feeling he's missing our life.

Seems we always forget to tell each other certain things, though; and even when we talk for an hour or more, it's never long enough to feel quite normally connected.

However, Little One has embraced this new rhythm.  Whenever my phone rings, she yells exuberantly, "Hiiiiii, Daaaaaaa!!!"  

She's crestfallen when it's not him.

Deployment Journal - Day #188

You know that Ripping-A-Bandage-Off-A-Deep-Wound feeling?  That necessary agony you try to quell by convincing yourself that it's necessary?  Yeah, that was this morning.

First, we had to wake up.  (Don't even question the immensity of this.)

Second, we had to be back to another doctor's office by 8:00 again.  And it was -6 degrees.

Third, today's appointment involved several blood tests for Little One.  They needed slightly more than 4 cc's.  Out of an itsy-bitsy, teeny-tiny, baby vein (sorry, Sweetie - my genetics, not your dad's!)  

Also, we had to wait for 55 minutes in cruel anticipation of her blood draw.  Combine terrified adrenaline with no breakfast, a squirming toddler who cannot leave your lap, (filthy floors, ew!) fast-forward two hours, and you have me, right about when they finally called her name.

She was beyond a trooper.  After two tourniquets, twenty minutes of debating and poking and hesitating, they summoned this elderly, Asian gentleman - the best phlebotomist on earth.  

We're now officially way past naptime, but she's just looking at everyone inquisitively wondering why we're all so tense.

He finally found a vein.  A microscopic one.  I had to hold her on my lap, clamped between my legs.  I tried to distract her and make her look away by dramatically waving scissors and rubber bands.  He got into her vein finally.  There was digging involved; her eyes shot open and tears began pouring out.  Her whole body started quivering, and she let out these out jerky, little, punctured cries, and I tried to soothe her while also trying to restrain her.

The tears kept rolling and rolling, but she was so brave.  She whimpered - most adults would have done far more - but turned her head against my chest and bit her little lip, and held totally still.

The whole lab applauded when she was finished.  

"What a trooper!"
"My gosh, I've never seen a kid take it so well!"
"How did you train her to DO that?"

Wish I could take credit, but she was born like this.  When we'd bulb syringe out her nose, as a newborn, and practically waterboard her with nasal saline to stave of Reflux attacks, she would cry and cry - but, always tried to smile at us while simultaneously sobbing.  It was kinda amazing.  

Maybe she sensed our approval, and maybe that has fed her desire to be brave, but I don't want her to ever feel like she has to be too brave.  She's just a wee little girl.

Still, she seriously has been like this since Day #1.  I swear.  Husband will confirm it.

But, they wouldn't believe me.