Dec. 17, 2009
A short time ago, Vivian, a Navy veteran and spouse, contacted me about writing for Family Matters. She asked to share her experiences as a spouse of a deployed sailor and a mother of two. Her husband, a Navy lieutenant, is deployed to Iraq and she has two boys who, she says, “enjoy peanut butter, trucks and air shows.” She volunteered to write about her deployment-related experiences and lessons learned, and will be contributing to Family Matters from time to time.
In this blog, Vivian writes about how she’s dealing with her husband’s deployment and shares her deepest fears about the separation. She also notes how liberating it can be to share these uncertainties.
A friend with little connection to the military recently asked me what I feared most about deployments. She had read an article in her local paper, citing a rise in the divorce rate of military couples and wanted to know how I dealt with the long separations, the fear for his safety, and other general “how do you do it” questions.
As I thought out how to answer such a complicated and personal inquiry, I couldn’t help but think of a list I wrote out right after Mr. Wonderful left for Iraq. I had bought myself a “deployment journal” I had seen advertised and even though it seemed cheesy and a bit overdone, I decided it might be nice to document both my feelings and the boys’ accomplishments in a neat, organized beautifully bound tome, which would then be presented to Mr. Wonderful upon his arrival back home.
One of the first pages asks you to write down what you are afraid of in regards to the deployment. I wrote:
I am afraid of:
– You not coming back to me
– Growing apart because you are not here
– Falling apart in front of the kids
– Our boys not dealing with your absence well
– Growing resentful of you being away from us
– Not being a good enough mother to our boys that makes everything OK for them
– Spending the holidays without you will be too much for me to bear
I remember thinking how fast all these fears flew from my head onto the paper. It was as if I had opened a floodgate of emotions that I had no idea was lurking behind all my well-reasoned strategies for getting through the next year. The ease with which these terrible possibilities flew onto the paper scared me, as if even just writing them down and admitting they existed was enough to jinx our family. I remember waiting almost a week before I wrote in the journal again.
Those are the general fears that I had when Mr. Wonderful left for Iraq.
Interestingly, my biggest fear was not that either one of us would cheat. I know that is a common perception and something my friend brought up as well.
But, no, what I was most apprehensive about was that we’d grow apart and be so different when he got back that we wouldn’t be compatible anymore.
That we wouldn’t be the same people we were when he left. And really, I don’t think either of us will be. I mean, how can we be? His job and what he has experienced will have changed him in ways I can’t fathom. And, being here alone with our kids, living our lives has changed me as well.
I’m about to finish my coursework for my Ph.D. I will have done the three years of coursework with two and a half of him not even being here. A whole segment, and a rather meaningful one, of my life has gone by.
Our kids are different people now too. They are their own little personalities with specific likes, dislikes, fears and hopes. He’s missed so many of their “firsts” – first soccer team (first trophy!), first shoe tying, potty training both times (OK, that’s not so sentimental, just me griping), first spelling test, first bike ride with no training wheels and first underwater somersault.
I’d like to think we are strong, that we are “different,” and above all the problems other couples have. But, I’ve seen too many marriages break up over the past five years over issues that seemed to come out of nowhere to be that smug anymore. I know the hard work it takes to make marriage work and that the dynamics change throughout the ride. Right now, we live phone call to phone call, love letter to love letter.
I watch our boys grow to look more like him every day.
We do things for the kids like the “dad on a stick” idea, read them “We Serve Too” books, and trade pictures and letters – all the normal stuff we military families do to attempt to bridge that gap, knowing that nothing other than the real thing will truly appease our greedy hearts.
So, as I began to respond to my friend, began to lay out why it is we do what we do and my personal strategy for maintaining a (mostly) happy, (try to be) healthy household, I realized that perhaps I shouldn’t just share with her and write them down in a journal but reveal them to other military spouses, my sisters (and brothers!) in arms, who might be feeling the same way.
It is liberating, if a bit terrifying, for those of us who like to be in control, to share these uncertainties, get them out in the open and air them out a bit. Because, communicating these deep, dark fears, discussing them with others facing the same issues who might feel alone or embarrassed in their doubts, might just be the best way to begin to deal with them. Sometimes it isn’t about a perfect solution, it’s about the camaraderie.
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