Five Month Mark

Today we officially hit the five month mark. That means that we are officially nearing the end of this deployment--if things go as they are theoretically supposed to (and this is the Navy so that's a big IF).

The thing is, I really thought this would feel different. I thought it would feel exciting and exhilirating and triumphant because--the end is near!

Maybe it is the winter blahs coupled with the stress of the last year catching up with me, but despite the fact that we're now well under the fifty day mark, it still feels like it will be such a long time since we're together again.

Maybe my heart can't begin to hope.

Maybe I'm just conditioned to feel like this after trying to keep myself settled about it for so long.

There are men and women who have had to endure deployment for 12 and 14 and 16 months with our current events of the day. I admire the strength that they have so much. We may see longer stretches that this one, but for this first deployment this has been quite enough.

Maybe the excitement will come soon. For now, I feel like I just need to keep plodding along. I can't let myself feel too hopeful yet.

Numb...

One of my primary coping mechanisms when husband is gone is self-induced numbness. When he leaves, for the first week or two I feel a constant ache--as though I have a gaping wound and my whole body is consumed with feeling it. Soon after that though numbness sets in. The ache is still there but it's anethesetized with a terrible thing--willfully forgetting what it's like to live as husband and wife.

It's difficult to describe the feeling of having that constant ache and numbness at the same time. It's hard to explain what it's like to remember and to fully be "Wife" to my husband even while part of me 'forgets' what our togetherness is like. It's a paradox, I guess.

I don't mean that I stop thinking of myself as a wife. I still feel every bit as married when my husband is gone. But I purposely forget what it feels like to be held, to kiss him, to lay next to him in the morning, to thoroughly empty myself by pouring out my thoughts and my heart to him. I forget what it's like to giggle ourselves silly before going to sleep, or what it feels like to stand and soak into one of his hugs.

It's a miserable thing really. Occasionally, I'll stop myself and want to remember... What does it feel like to touch him. What does his skin feel like? What do his arms feel like around me?

And I can't remember...

The numbness helps me cope, but it can also be terribly lonely. It's dreadful sometimes to feel that I have forgotten, if only temporarily, pieces of life with my husband.

It's a high price to pay to cope....

But I haven't found any better way yet.

I can't wait for the day when I no longer need memories because my husband is there in front of me. My nerves will awaken with an explosion of feeling, and once again I'll be in his arms.

I long for the exquisite feeling of feeling.

Romantic?

I think when a lot of people think of military families they think it sounds so romantic... They think of long love letters sent back and forth (I hear over and over again, "but you really find out a lot about a person through letters don't you?" Believe me, I can think of better ways to get to know my husband than by having him gone for months at a stretch with my only tangible contact to him being letters, thanks). People think of long last embraces and tearful goodbyes. Homecomings and 1940s pictures of a Sailor kissing his girl.

It's really not all it's cracked up to be. It's not all roses and champagne. Sometimes, it's downright tedious. Think--car repairs that you suddenly get to figure out on your own, panic about getting taxes done without a special power of attorney (the one the command forgot to tell us we needed to have), months and months of being the only on available to tend to the crying baby at night. No Daddy coming home at the end of a long day to give Mom's arms and patience a break.

When he's home there are long watches that keep him away from us during what is supposed to be 'time off.' There are late nights when a tool goes missing and they have to tear things apart to find it. Uniform inspections that take time to prep for, and on and on and on.

Sounds pretty sexy doesn't it?

But we do have our romance. There are the flowers that husband has made sure come to me once a month just because even though he's gone... there's the building anticipation of the reunion, the thought of another 'honeymoon.'

I really think the best thing this lifestyle has given to our marriage is the understanding that we can't take one another--and the time we have together--for granted. When we are together, we're joyful about it. We soak in the time that we get. We guard it jealously. We try to make the time count extra to get us through the next separation.

Birthdays, Christmas, Valentine's Day--those extra special days when the whole world is gooey-eyed with romance? They become devalued in favor of the regular old days together. Why celebrate our time together and as a family on just holidays? There's always a strong chance that we won't be together for these supposed 'more special' days. We haven't shared a single birthday or anniversary together yet. Our holidays have been hit or miss.

We celebrate Saturdays spent hiking at a state park, the rare date night that we're given by friends willing to babysit, Sundays when we can go to church together, and meals that we get to cook together. Those are the gooey-eyed, extra special days to us. We're forced to appreciate one another during the time that we have. And we do. So how's that for romantic?

Missing My Confidante

One of the hardest parts of this deployment has been missing my confidante.

We were very lucky that for husband's unexpected 'on land' time, we had very regular phone calls. And I do count my blessings and know how lucky we were for that rare availability.

However... When your husband is in a combat zone and you only have thirty minutes to talk to him, you censor quite a bit of your conversation. You just can't get into the depths of your heart, soul, and emotions with only ten minutes before the grumpy and somewhat scary sounding phone monitor yells, "TIME!!!!"

As I said elsewhere, my Mom died in July. My husband was out on a detachment when things really started getting bad, and he was able to get home to see her the night before she died. He left for 'the big one' only a month later.

I can honestly say that the last year and a half has been the hardest season of my life to date. And in the last year of dealing with it, my husband has been gone more than he has been home. My husband is my safe place. He is the one person I feel secure telling the worst of my thoughts to. He is my safe place to feel the tough feelings. He is my support when I need to be real, but am afraid to.

And he's gone...

I didn't realize how truly 'one' we had become until I started trying to feel things without him. I find that I can't. I can't let myself get too fully into them, because I don't want to feel them alone.

Husband lost his father suddenly our freshman year of college. It shook him to the core. In this journey, I've looked to him for guidance and for the support of one who has been there.

But he's gone...

My Mom has been gone for six months now. It still feels just as fresh as it did a week after she died. I want to ask my husband if that's normal and to talk it all through with him.

But he's gone...

I miss him. Sometimes I'm afraid I'm just going to spill so emotion and thought and pent-up feeling all over him when he gets home. I just know I need him.

How Sweet!

I was feeling really grumpy today, when I opened my email and found this. Definitely a day brightener.

(PS--Yes, he's all bundled up even in the desert. It's COLD there now!)

Getting Closer....

Hubby was able to give me a pretty good idea of when they will be home, and it's starting to feel like a more digestable time period.

This morning at Mommy group, fliers were handed out about two different women's retreats coming up. I looked them over and thought they looked interesting, and then checked the dates--Baby and I will be back in the Northwest by then! And better yet--husband should be home!!!

I was slightly disappointed that I wouldn't be able to attend the events, but very excited that 'Coming soon' events are in such a time frame that I won't be here anymore! That means we're getting closer.

In other news: We officially have a house to move back into!!!! I am SO VERY HAPPY ABOUT IT!!!!

Minor Irritations

I went to a Mommy group this morning, and as so often happens when women get together the topic of husband's and the irritating things that they do came up.

There were complaints about the garbage not going out, and burping without saying excuse me, and no help with laundry, etc. etc. Now, I am not above chiming in such discussions, but today I just couldn't. I was sitting there thinking, "I can't even remember the little irritating things that he does. I miss being irritated!"

I will be the first to tell you that distance doens't always make the heart grow fonder. Sometimes it just makes the heart go numb. But at the same time, things like those minor irritations fade into the woodwork. You begin to see them for what they are--unimportant little nothings in the scheme of your relationship. It's definitely a jolt to the perspective.

I'm sure that when my husband and I return to the northwest and are together again, within a week I'll be complaining about him not replacing the liner in the trash can (I finally thought of one of my frequent complaints after thinking all day).

For now though, I'd take a decade of having to replace the liners myself just to have him around. (Those words may just come back to haunt me...)

Together Transcends

Some days it amazes me how even with him on the other side of the world I can feel very close to my husband.

Admittedly, other days I feel like I'm forgetting how to be a wife--what it feels like to interact with my husband... how to talk to him... how to touch him.


But I'd rather talk about the first statement. Husband called yesterday because it would be the last time he'd be able to for a while. The first phone card he used which should have been for 500 minutes if used in the U.S. was only going to allow him 13 minutes of phone time. So, he called back later after scrounging up a free AT&T card. We weren't sure how many minutes it would have.

After a while he told me he loved me. But he said it differently this time. In the last couple of conversations when he said those most precious words the longing wasn't veiled--it was right on the surface. They were soft enough that I felt like I could curl into them like his big, comfy sweater... or the crook of his neck. I told him that they sounded different, and he explained that he's been thinking a lot about our marriage.... How unique it is and how grateful he is for the goodness of it. And then he said a few other wonderful things... that I couldn't do justice to by trying to relay them. And when he was finished saying these wonderful things he said, "I'd have blown through a stack of phone cards just to tell you that."

How can I explain the power of a simple exchange like that except to say that we couldn't have been closer if he'd been right by my side in the very same room?

My favorite author, Madeleine L'Engle talks about the sacred lines between people, and places, and times in her time trilogy books. She says over and over again, "Where doesn't matter." It's a difficult paradigm to shift into, and even more difficult to be completely convinced that it's true when distance seems such an obstacle.

But what I find in rare moments like the ones we shared yesterday, is that she is right. Where doesn't matter. Who matters. Us matters. Together matters. And together isn't changed by distance--even when the distance is the opposite side of the world.

John and Abigail

When I was in High School one of my favorite teachers, Mr. Stebbins, had us watch a series of videos produced for PBS about the American Revolution. I remember several things about this video series--#1: We wanted to watch ALL of it (Mr. Stebbins was a wonderful teacher, but could put you to sleep rather quickly). #2: There was a crazy British historian named, "Colin Bonwick" and I loved his name, and #3: I found that I ADORED all the quotes supplied by Abigail Adams.

Now it turns out I guess, that Andy's family is somehow very distantly related to Mr. John Adams. So the Adams' are brought to mind from time to time.

Husband brought along David McCollough's (feel free to correct my spelling of that) book John Adams to read during deployment. Because of that he's read a great deal of John and Abigail's correspondences during their very extensive separations caused by the founding of this country.

What we are finding is that we really relate to both of them--especially to their letters. I've googled the Adams' a couple of times since husband has been gone only to find something in Abigail's letters truly resonating within me. I also found that John's words sounded very much like the 1700s version of husband's at times.

Last night, when husband called (one of his last calls to come from where he is currently), he said to me, "The more I read about her, the more I think you are like Abigail. She was a woman who had very big thoughts, but she also had many fears which she overcame again, and again."

He said this to me after a night of finding myself very convicted of my tendency to live in my fears. I am beginning to see very clearly how my spots of, "I just can't do that," correspond with the guardedness of my nature coming from my fear. I am discovering that this fear keeps me from feeling and healing and fully relating to others. And sadly it keeps me from the fullness of intimacy with my husband. With his help, I want to learn to break through these fears. That he said that last night gave me great courage, and the timing couldn't have been more perfect.

Abigail in general gives me great courage. She dealt with years of separation from her husband at a time when running a household meant a great deal more work, toil, and sacrifice than it does today, and her love and admiration and respect for John never waivered. Nor did her courage.

I want to be like Abigail.

Great necessities call out great virtues. Abigail Adams

Elbows and Fingernails

You would think I was crazy if I told you that I miss my husband's elbows and fingernails, wouldn't you?

Well, I do...

We were living in our very first apartment when my husband left for basic training. Partway through his time there, I got tired of not having any pictures of him on our walls (I hadn't gotten around to hanging pictures.... I'm lazy like that sometimes). So, I went to work putting some up.

In one double frame I put a photo from our wedding, and a photo from our honeymoon. In the honeymoon picture, we were sitting in the sand with the ocean in the background--the camera was balanced precariously a few steps up on the staircase leading up to the my inlaw's beach house.. Husband had his arm around me and you could see this little corner of elbow peeking out in the picture.

Everytime I saw that picture, I'd look at his elbow and miss him--and his elbow--so much.

This time around, I keep thinking of his fingernails and his hands. I have a strange fascination with the sensation of having my fingernails played with... I miss seeing his hands playing with mine. I miss his fingernails.

You see--it's not that I miss random pieces of my husband... it's that I miss these intimate things about him that only I know. I miss knowing those things in person--tracing the profile of his face, or the softness of his lips. I miss his fingers entwined with mine, and brushing by him in the kitchen. I literally forget what it's like to feel him next to me, to see his face, to have a normal conversation with him. It feels so sad to forget things like that about the man I love so much...

I can't wait to remember!

Where we are Now

We are in month four of what is supposed to be a six month deployment. This is our first, though not our first separation. The deployment hasn't been a typical Navy deployment. DH has spent about half his time thus far on land supporting a Marine squadron in, "The Sandbox." At first the thought of that really frightened me. However, my husband feels he is doing more purposeful work where he is, and he enjoys sleeping in a bed that allows him the luxury of sitting up and not hitting his shoulder on the rack above him. I decided not to dwell on worrying about the ambiguous and unlikely what ifs that came with his location and simply be glad he was in a place where he felt more content. That's worked well... most of the time.

It's been a crazy year for us. My Mom died in July, our daughter was born in March, we're going through our first deployment (For more on any of those things click on my profile and visit my other blogs.) Because of the situation with my mother, we decided that I would spend the duration of the deployment at my folks' house in the midwest. When Mom died we determined that the best idea would be to stay the course.

So my daughter and I are holed up at Dad's for now... Which brings it's own difficulties and challenges especially with two very different ways of approaching grief.

But this blog isn't about that... And now that you have some context I can get on to the meat of things.

That's where we are now... Who knows where life will take us next!

The First Post

Two and a half years ago I married my best friend, a man I met the first day of college in a small rural town in the midwest. Not long before that, I never would have dreamed I'd be married to a man who chose to be in the military. I didn't see myself leaving the safety of small-town life in the midwest. I never imagined I would find myself so in love with the sea that I needed proximity to it's pulsing waves to find a semblance of perspective, I never saw myself packing up time, and time, and time again, and starting a family with the backdrop of deployments and an abundance of family crisis. But here I am.

Since we married we've been through a whirlwind. He began his enlistment as a Sailor five months after we said our vows. Since then we've lived through a few separations, set up house in three different states, welcomed our baby girl into the world, grieved the loss of close family members, and learned to reinvent the definition of 'home' many times over.

In this blog, I want to tell you about the man I married, and the love we share. I want to give you a glimpse of a love that transcends the triumphs and trials of military family life. This isn't a place where you'll find political views smattered all over (and please don't do me the disservice of assuming I land on one side of the political fence or the other because of my current station in life). This isn't a place to sing the praises of patriotism, or to decry the evils of the conflicts we now find ourselves involved in.

This is a glimpse into the life of a Navy family... Hopefully a place to chronicle the many reasons the sacrifices we make are worth it to us.

What it boils down to is this: I love a man who has chosen to serve our country. That love coupled with the immense grace of God is enough to hold us together even when continents and oceans stand between us.

I want to tell you about our life. I want to tell you about our love.