Hardship Tour

Hardship tours

This post is hard to write.  To other military people it’s just depressing and things you have all been through before.  Don’t read it.  To non-military….well, maybe it will make you hug a veteran.  I’m going home tomorrow for Christmas.  Mom will make me feel better and I’ll do a happier post later this week.

Christmas music is playing the background and both girls are sleeping.  The house is too quiet.  I stared out the window and started to cry.  I am having such a hard time enjoying this holiday.  He won’t be here for the next Christmas, or birthdays, or first day of school…or for big kisses at the end of each day.  I hate it.

Some women mourn the death of their husband who is just fine, but deployed.  I cry because I miss a man who is downstairs. I read somewhere that the Army calls this feeling “anticipatory grief”.  I just call it “crap I wish my kids didn’t have to go through”

Last time he was gone for this long I did ok when Lilyana was awake.  “Stay busy” is a what all the women tell each other…especially to the girls going through this the first time like I was.  Every night when I would put Lilyana in the stroller to walk I would start to cry.  You see, it’s bad to have time to think.  Walks and naptimes were not my friend.

At first I thought I was crazy but now I know so many other women who need a glass of wine or Ambien to sleep when he’s gone.  Another friend, like me, just tries not to sleep.  She stays awake as long as possible watching TV.  Last time he was gone someone broke into my car in the driveway right under Lilyana’s room….I slept fully armed for about a month.  DON’T come over without calling first when he’s gone.  It could be your last move.

I am going to my Mom’s for awhile this time.  Not sure what I will really do for the long haul.  It will be hard to see the house packed up.  This is the house where Katie joined our family.  Her sweet perfect nursery will be dismantled and we will move, again.  Lilyana will leave her wonderful little school and friends across the street.  She will miss her trampoline.  Her favorite thing. I will miss our great church and wonderful Sunday school class.  I will also miss the girls in our unit.  Our weekly Bible study keeps me sane. 

I couldn’t do what he does.  There is NO way I could leave the girls for this long.  I cry for him.  I will probably need to be picked up off the driveway after I watch him kiss the girls goodbye.  This sucks, I hate it.  I’m crying writing this.  I wonder if Katie will know who he is when he gets back.  (If anyone mentions Skype right now I will slug them) Skype is NOT Daddy throwing you in the air, or teaching you the monkey bars, or kissing boo boos.

Some people will think this sounds nuts but I wish he was leaving tomorrow.  He does too.  The sooner he leaves, the sooner he’s back.  It’s like a band aid.  Just rip it off.  Waiting for him to leave is always worse than him actually leaving.  I will get in a groove and of course, stay busy.  The difference this time is the questions I will be answering, or trying to answer.

His leaving is not news around here it’s just that the time is fast approaching.  He’s leaving for about 18 months.  18 months.  Let that sink in....sigh.  He will be able to visit us about the 5 month mark for two weeks.  That will be another tough goodbye.

I’ll live.  I’ve done it before.  As a sweet friend reminds me “God is in control, not Uncle Sam” I am praying that the orders will change.  They might.  Change is the nature of the Army.

Sometimes I stand outside Katie’s room and listen to her cry.  I don’t enjoy it.  I would love to scoop her up every time and make everything ok.  If things get too bad I go in her room and comfort her.  The other day I wondered if that is what God feels like.  He probably hates that I am listening to Christmas carols and crying.  He was probably standing right behind me as I stood looking out the kitchen window.  He probably hates to hear my cry and if gets too bad, he always scoops me up and helps me make it through this crazy Army life.