I'm Sad

Today I have no witty titles, humorous stories or political ideals to rant about. Today I just have honest, raw, gut emotion, and you, dear readers, get to read the brunt of it. Lucky you.

Many of you know (and for those of you who don't, please don't feel slighted; we just didn't want to put news out there until things were for certain) that our status here in Texas has been uncertain at best. Adam's current orders (military-speak for contract) end in late-January, so several months ago he asked the powers-that-be for an extension so that he could continue his work here for another year. He was assured by many that his presence here is valuable and an extension of his orders would meet no roadblocks. As you know from my previous posts, I'm not a big fan of Fort Hood, or the surrounding town of Killeen, where we live. I have wanted to move back to Michigan for quite some time. Problem is, Fort Hood = employment; the same cannot be said for us in Michigan. So we waited. And waited. And waited some more.

While we were waiting for some word on Adam's extension, he informed me that the unit that he's been working with this last year would be deploying to Kuwait in Spring 2011. At least two of his higher-ups told him that he very likely would not join the unit there, but instead stay behind at Fort Hood and work with another unit. We found relief in those assurances, but because we are both savvy enough to know that nothing in the military is ever certain until it's in writing, we kept our hackles up.

Months went by and we waited for news of his extension. I got increasingly homesick for friends, activities and the familiar comforts of Michigan and started contemplating a move back, even if Adam did get orders to stay in Texas another year. I felt guilty for thinking of splitting up my family, but my life in Texas has been isolated and lonely, save for two girlfriends who I don't see regularly. I honestly didn't know what choice to make: return to Michigan for my own mental sake, or stay in Texas to keep my family together.

About six weeks ago, Adam informed me that he'd gotten word that orders were coming down the pipeline, but that what we'd most feared would likely come true: he'd accompany his unit on their spring deployment. Then he added insult to injury: the unit was no longer deploying to Kuwait, but rather to Iraq, and instead of leaving in mid-March, they were leaving the first of February. I was dumbstruck. We were in the midst of preparing for the holidays and I now had to think of losing Adam in just over a month's time? For an entire year? All I could do was look at Bryony and imagine a year of her waiting for her Dad to walk through the door. How do you explain these things to a toddler, especially when you can't even quite understand it all yourself? I asked Adam if there was any possibility left of him staying behind at Fort Hood for the year. In my mind, I was already making deals that if he was allowed to stay in Texas that I would give up any plans to return to Michigan. I just want my husband home with me. He told me that he was pretty sure the chances of staying in Texas for the next year were slim to none. He was going to Iraq.

Have you ever read the short story "The Monkey's Paw"? In it, an older couple receives as a gift a monkey's paw from a friend who recently travelled overseas. The paw is said to grant three wishes to whoever possesses it; however, each wish comes with a dreadful price for interfering with fate. I felt as though I had wished upon the monkey's paw. For months I had wanted to move back to Michigan, had reasoned why it was what I needed to do. Now, with impending orders for Adam to go to Iraq, I was finally getting my wish but at the expense of my husband's presence and safety. It was maddening.

The last month has been spent playing the waiting game. The administrative end of the Army had been telling Adam for weeks that his orders were being drafted and would be sent shortly, but nothing ever came. We finally decided to make the two-day drive back to Michigan last week to move our household items, in case he didn't get orders and we all returned to Michigan, or he did get orders to Iraq and only Bryony and I returned. I was hoping for the former, despite what that would mean for us financially. Adam hates the idea of being separated from us, but he hates the idea of being unemployed and unable to provide even more. We are stuck.

We entered this week knowing that if his orders did not arrive in the next two days, the entire family would be caravaning back to Michigan on Thursday. We knew there was still the possibility that we could drive all the way back to Michigan only to have the Army send Adam orders that he had to report back here to Fort Hood right away. But, with no updates or information, that was the risk we would have to face. I sent him off to work this morning hoping that he wouldn't get orders, that we would all just drive back to the quiet coziness of our life back in Michigan, keeping warm in our little house while the cold wild winter blistered outside. That was my hope.

Adam came home at lunchtime today with news. He got his orders. He leaves in mid-February to start pre-deployment training in Georgia. I could see that he was relieved knowing that he had certain employment for another year, but he was searching my face for something...gratitude? acceptance? validation? I couldn't provide him with any of those things, not in that moment. In that moment, I saw Bryony happy to have her Daddy home in the middle of the day, running circles around him as she laughed and played, dropping random objects at his feet. She doesn't just love him. She adores him, worships him, needs him. How will she get through a year without him? How will I get through a year of her not having him? Of me not having him?

I could hardly lift my face to meet his eyes as I felt tears threaten to fall. I didn't want to cry in front of him. As much as he was relieved by a stable paycheck, I knew this was hard for him, too. He's going to miss Bryony's second birthday, holidays, potty training, complete sentences and goodness-knows-what-else. His heart is breaking, too. So I didn't cry even though I really wanted to. He walked over and kissed the top of my head, one of my very favorite things that he does. He whispered to my cheek, "It'll be all right," and I almost broke down. What if it's not all right? What if something bad happens to him over there? What if he doesn't come home? I can't stop worrying about the unimaginable.

So here I am now, sad and worried and scared. We have been through this before and we got through it. But this time we have a kid and that makes everything different, harder. Not to mention the fact that we've been through this before. We've done our part for king and country, twice already. I'm tired and bitter and don't want to go through this all over again. But then, I know that while this will be Adam's third deployment, other families are going through fifth, sixth or even seventh deployments now. Families with a servicemember are being hit hard. It hurts.

Before I sat down to write this, I changed Bryony's diaper in preparation for her nap. She surprised me with a particularly catastrophic explosion in her pants. I was so shocked I gasped and she started laughing, which made me laugh, which made her laugh even harder. It was a much-needed light moment to put a pinprick in my bubble of sorrow.

It's going to be a slow leak.