War Fatigue

A few days ago, I was on the phone with a friend who asked when Adam would be returning home. When I told him Adam's ETA was roughly early- to mid- December, he laughed and said, "Wow, that soon? His deployment has just flown by!" I tersely responded, "It hasn't flown by for me." Just a day or so later, a colleague also asked me his arrival status, and upon hearing the ETA, she said, "Oh, that's great! Only two and half more months!" I just looked at her, knowing that if her husband was gone for even a long weekend she'd be out of sorts.

I get annoyed when people make it seem like having my husband away for the last eight months has just been pages flipped on a calendar. They haven't had to deal with a two-year old asking everyday where her daddy is, or gravitating toward her friends' fathers because her own isn't around. They haven't had to deal with her waking up in the morning screaming that she wants her daddy and then not having the right words to soothe her. They haven't felt the fear that something bad will happen to him, that they'll get the heart-lurching knock on the door by a soldier speaking the words no one wants to hear. They haven't missed his comforting presence in the house at night, his strong arms wrapped around them, or his partnership in helping to raise a child. They haven't gone nearly a year without a break from being both a mother and father. They're not emotionally and physically exhausted from a year of loneliness, single-parenting and fear of the unknown. For them, the time has flown by, and the time ahead is short. But not for me. And not for our daughter.

But, we are still, another day closer.