Missing in Action

Dragon was running around my bedroom, scavenging through the side tables while I put laundry away and puttered around.  In the Sir’s drawer, she found an old picture of he and I from when were first married and ran over to me waving it in the air like she had found a golden trophy. She came to a screeching halt in front of me, held up the picture, and then put both hands in the air ready to pose a question…

“Dada, go?”

I don’t think I realized how much this 19 month brain had been processing that her dada has been MIA for the past two months.  That she had noted that he wasn’t there to wrestle with her and the dogs or give her a bath or tuck her into bed while still in his uniform from a long day at work. 

I’ve tried to fill the hole of Dada being gone.  We have pictures of him all over and our walks up the stairs always take twice as long as she points out his smiling face on the wall and talks with me about him.  I make sure she regularly wears her Star Wars gear, that she says “Go Cardinals” when we watch a baseball game, and that when we see another man in uniform, that we say thank you.  Every night when I put her to bed, I tell her that her mama AND dada love her before I shut the door.

And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t want her to remember that her daddy wasn’t here.  Because that seemed easier to bear to not have her missing him as much as I do each day. That maybe one of us could get through this deployment without being so sad.

But clearly that’s not the case and even this little toddler realizes that things within our house are awry.  That we are missing a very pivotal piece to our family and things are not quite right, as hard as mama tries to be both a mommy and daddy.

Fighting back tears, I squatted down in front of my dragon and held both her chubby hands. “Dada loves you SO much,” I said.  “Dada is working but he will be home and give you a big hug.” 

I gave her a big hug myself and she quickly wriggled away with her newfound picture of dada, scampering off to get into more trouble with the worry of her missing dada behind her for now.

I wish my heart was comforted as easily as a toddler’s.  It’s not that easy for mama.

Someone handed me a baby and she misses her dada, too.

Don't Ask

I struggled (and continue to struggle) with infertility and through that I have learned all the things not to ask or tell a woman trying to have a baby, whether it is her first or tenth.  Don’t ever tell a woman to “relax” and things will just naturally happen.  And don’t ever ask that woman if she’s cutting out caffeine or eating organically or reducing her sugar intake.  I wouldn’t have known to avoid these topics, that these words meant to help can cut someone right to their heart and cause pain, until I was in those shoes myself.

And now that I have been living a military wife life for almost six years, I realize that people seem to think it’s ok to pose similarly harmful questions to those of us married to men in the service. The biggest, most rampant one I am tired of hearing?

“You knew what you were getting yourself into when you married an [insert military branch here] man.”

Sure, I knew the moment I walked down the aisle to a man in uniform that my life was going to be a lot different than I had ever imagined.  I knew that there would be a few moves in our future and that we wouldn’t always be home for 4^th of July.  I knew that he would be gone sometimes and deployments could come.  I knew it would be rough some days, just like in any marriage, but the thought of a man in uniform coming home to me each night seemed like the ending of a happy tears romantic comedy and I was ready for my happily ever after.

So when someone comes up with that response when I am struggling with my husband being gone for the majority of a year, it cracks my heart open and causes me to feel like I am unjustified in missing my husband.  That just the fact alone that my husband’s occupation is “Soldier” nullifies any feelings associated with that profession in itself or all of the rough aspects that this life entails.

Because you don’t really know the nitty gritty of things until you live this life.  I never foresaw four moves in five years or always having to find a new pediatrician, hairdresser, dog groomer, eyebrow waxer, mechanic, or the best Target every 12-18 months.  I couldn’t have imagined how many trips to the PX I would make to get name tapes made or having to pick up ten copies of his newest rank to get sewn onto every uniform he owned. I didn’t realize how during a deployment you rarely have a full conversation with one another that never gets passed “I love you” and “Sleep well” before someone’s schedule demands that the conversation be over.  When I signed that marriage certificate, I wasn’t aware I wouldn’t hear my husband’s voice for weeks, and possibly months, on end.  I never realized how lonely this life could really be and how many meals I would end up eating at the dinner table by myself.

So yes, I partly knew what I was getting into and as for the rest?

I would do it all again just to see him walk through my door in that stinky, sweaty, red clay covered uniform every night.  I jumped into the unknown all because of him and I would do it again in a heartbeat.  

And someone handed me and that soldier a baby, and even if we didn’t know every detail of what this roller coaster of a life would entail, we’re on this ride together.

(For those of you new to my blog, you can read more about our struggles with infertility in a previous post, In the Beginning)

What I Really Miss

I knew I’d miss a lot of things about the Sir over the course of this deployment.

I knew I would miss his smile and him walking through the door in his uniform for dinner, while the Dragon and dogs simultaneously ran up to “dada” to get the first hugs.  I knew I would miss his company on lazy Sunday afternoons and wish he were here to see the Dragon and her daily shenanigans.  I knew I would miss his help with the yard work, the smell of his sandalwood aftershave, and being the little spoon when snuggling in bed on chilly winter mornings.  There was a list in my head a mile long of all the things I anticipated missing…but one thing has caught me by surprise that I wasn’t expecting.

I never expected to miss his opinion as much as I have over the past few weeks.

Not that he’s a man who isn’t chalk full of good opinions, but who doesn’t occasionally want to make the dessert choice or choose the decorating options or pick the nightly Netflix show without having to balance the differing opinion of someone else?

But now that I am going on 40 days without having the opinion of my husband, I realize how much I really enjoy having him as a sounding board in my life for all the little daily things that occur.

When the Dragon has a rash that no doc can figure out after three appointments, I wish he could be there to ask the pediatrician questions, too.  When the Hound keeps peeing on the new deck, I wish the Sir was here to help me brainstorm how to prevent it without staring at the dog every second he’s outside.  When I get the call that the person who hit my parked car a few days ago can’t be found in the insurance system that she told me she had, I wish he were here to help me figure out the next step. 

I want his opinion on what flowers to plant out front and how I should revive my poor lilac bushes.  I want his opinion on what movie to rent at Redbox on Saturday night.  I want his opinion on how to keep the Dragon in her crib now that she’s channeling Spiderman.  I want his opinion on if my new jeans make my butt look weird.

It is all of those little things that come up during a normal day and can’t be discussed over a message or a letter or the few brief phone calls we've had, when I would rather be talking about the Dragon or how the Sir’s day has been halfway across the world.

I am capable of doing all of these things and making all these decisions on my own, but how I miss having my favorite co-captain here to help me with the load.

Someone handed me a baby and the only opinion she has is that we don’t eat enough snacks.