This one has been a long time coming. I keep alluding to the "deployment" email that has always been set for some future date. Well, here it is. It's been delayed partially because I simply haven't had time to sit down and write and partially because I haven't known how to express my feelings in words. Seems a bit ironic for me, no?
This whole deployment from the start has been awkward. And I feel awkward talking about it. You see, it wasn't "supposed" to happen. I say "supposed" because I know all things in life happen for a reason and God has His hand all over it, sometimes we just choose some especially long-winded paths. When Byron and I were separated we had quite the hard time figuring out what was going to happen with the house. It wasn't selling, we have the mortgage on it and he was scheduled to leave Alaska in December. Both of us had the least amount of hope in our marriage than any other point and there seemed to be no other decision. Byron signed to stay in Alaska for another three years for the sake of the house alone. We couldn't afford to pay on it, didn't want to risk having renters in it while we were out of state and neither one of us would be able to maintain it if a divorce was finalized. Staying in Alaska was the logical choice for Byron. That also meant signing onto this current deployment.
I have a really hard time wondering what people think of me. I always have. And it makes it worse knowing what we've gone through in the past year. The horrible rumors that were spread around, the truths we had to weave through and deal with and the confusion I'm sure we spread to everyone makes me assume everyone is eyeing us suspiciously and perhaps judgementally. I don't like that feeling. At all. So I've kept pretty quiet about the entire situation and tried to keep a smile on my face (do you see a repetitive defense mechanism pattern here yet?) Afterall, we've been through two deployments. Third times a charm? And even though Byron and I have still been sorting through the chaos of ourselves we're thrown into another year long separation.
Honest confession here. I feel very guilty. I feel guilty for leaving Alaska. I feel guilty for taking Madison away from him for a year prior to this deployment. I feel guilty for not staying and being strong. I feel guilty for not being there to make sure the house sold and that we were able to move on to the next chapter of our life together. Guilt will eat away at you and tear you up, strangling you. I know in my heart-of-hearts I wouldn't have made it up there. I made a decision that was best for our family at the time without even knowing it. I physically, mentally, spiritually could not survive up there any longer than I did. Yet the guilt still lurks around the corner each passing moment.
So let's deal with reality now. Byron is on his third deployment, second to Afghanistan. The separation has become "routine" and we understand how the entire deployment system works. And that's the very problem right there. It has become a routine. Our biggest concern going into this was our relationship not just surviving the year but miraculously coming out stronger. We were scared for us, for the marriage, for our life. Somehow in that the facts of deployment somehow evaded me. He is at war. And it's dangerous.
One night last week I was struggling to sleep so grabbed up my Kindle Byron had bought me for Mother's Day. I fell asleep reading and was startled awake at 12:22am by something unknown. I know it was 12:22am because for some odd reason I was holding my phone in my hand instead of having it on the ledge beside me. As I went to put it back I got a text message. It was a random 5 digit number with a dash inbetween. The message read "Families and friends of 5-1 CAV. It is with great sorrow that I tell you that on May 15, 3 1-25 soldiers were killed in" and that was it. The rest of the message cut off. I started to freak. As an Army wife we have been briefed repeatedly that we will never be notified of death by any means but in person. And the other wives generally never find out about someone else's death until the next of kin have been notified. Two minutes later I got a voicemail. It was a synthesized voice stating the same thing as the text but this time I got the full message. 3 of our 1-25 soldiers had been killed in action and 2 others severely injured. Please don't post anything about it on social media networking sites until names are released pending notification of next of kin. You have got to be kidding me. No names, no hint at what had happened. Nothing. Shortly after came the FRG email reiterrating the same message. And I was left to freak out for the remainder of the evening. It was a sense of panic that could not be replaced by logic. I knew I would be notified asap if something had happened to Byron but I couldn't believe in my heart that it wasn't him until I got some type of verification. I spent the entire early hours and next morning in a completely panicked state waiting to hear something, anything. It wasn't until 4pm that I finally heard from Byron. Fear paralyzed me as I answered the phone... just seeing the Afghanistan number and not knowing if it was him or not. When I heard his voice I completely lost it. I broke down and cried leaving him slightly confused and probably overwhelmed on the other line. He had no clue I had gotten those emails/texts/calls.
Surviving the deployment became a lot less relational and a lot more physical. Afghanistan is a crazy unsafe place. I have felt this whole time like the guys and especially Byron are untouchable. It was too soon for anyone to get killed. They just got there. These guys know what they're doing. Excuses just pouring through my head to make the soldiers of 1-25 invincible. It doesn't work like that in war apparently. This deployment very quickly took on an entirely different meaning. It's going to be long and tough. It'll likely try our marriage, test our patience and send me into hysterics more than once. Neither one of us can get through it alone. I'm so grateful to have a nurturing group of people to help us through it. But even more I'm grateful to have a firm understanding and find great comfort and peace in the fact that faith, hope and love can get you through anything. Faith in God, hope in the future and love. We'll make it.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
The Healing Has Begun
I think I've mentioned before that I've blogged for over 10 years now. Posts spread out across several sites it's been a nurturing sort of therapy for me many times.
Last night I was driving and began thinking of all the events of the past year or two. It's a whirlwind of memories going through my head. Two things inparticular have continued to hit me hard. The miscarriage and Papa dying. It's so easy to blog about more mundane things, about daily stress and personal opinions. But it's nearly impossible for me to blog about the things that have hit me right in my innermost core. There are only two blogs to date regarding the miscarriage, both of them very angry posts. And not a single blog about Papa. I wish I could say I played those emotions out in real life but that's not the case. I internalized all of the pain and hurt and slowly the anger as well, forcing myself to believe I had to keep picking up pieces and move on. They've stayed in a very safe, locked up place for well over a year now. I'm not sure why I've kept so removed from them. Self-protection perhaps. Or maybe the fact that it just hurt way too much to let feelings surface more than necessary.
The morning after I had the miscarriage Byron and I went in for an already scheduled appointment. It was supposed to be the first appointment where we could listen to the heartbeat. And yet it had taken a dismal turn the night prior. The doctor performed an ultrasound and without a sign of apathy on her face stated "You've already passed the product of conception." Those words stung. The product of conception. And that was that. It wasn't an embryo to her, not a fetus and certainly not a baby. Simply the product of conception. I think that was the moment I turned off the switch. It was my baby, my child... and it was gone and to anyone but Byron and myself it was a sad situation and nothing more. I think people trying to come up with excuses for God was the worst part. Perhaps something was physically or mentally wrong with it and God was looking out for me. That was a common one. Or people stating that it happens to a lot of women for no known cause, making me a statistic more than anything. It was easiest to shut everyone out.
Switch gears. Shortly after my miscarriage Byron's grandpa died. In a few short years I had grown close to him. At times we were able to visit we could chat and chat and not run out of things to say. We exchanged probably hundreds of emails. And Madison adored him. After the miscarriage I stopped checking my email completely. I didn't answer phonecalls. Wouldn't talk to anyone. He had emailed several times asking if I was okay and if he had done or said something to upset me. And of course he hadn't. I was just trying to survive. But I never saw those emails. Christmas night we got the phonecall that he had died suddenly of a heart attack. I saw the emails from him the following week. I had obviously never responded.
Fast forward just a bit more. Papa got rediagnosed with leukemia for the 3rd time. Twice he fought it and against all odds, beat it. We were blessed with several additional years with him. But that third time hit hard. And after just a few short months I got the dreaded phonecall that I needed to get there. When Byron came to my work and told me how soon I needed to get there I allowed myself to break down for the first time in 3 months. Right there in the construction area at work I sobbed and choked on my own tears and cried out in anger and sorrow. And then I pulled it back together. Well, sort of.
Three major events had crashed down on me. You can only internalize that stuff for so long. After returning from Ohio there was a definite strain on mine and Byron's relationship. PTSD, deployments, all of the events that had just happened.... we were struggling. And the drama continues from there. Many stories throughout the past year. But the constant is that I never began to heal... I never let myself grieve.
About 2 months ago I went to see an endocrinologist for a myriad of health issues I've been having since the miscarriage. I've seen several doctors and I'm pretty sure at this point I had the routine down. The miscarriage was mentioned at every visit and I had become callously accustomed to stating it and moving on. 2 pregnancies, 1 live birth, no known cause for miscarriage, next issue please. But this doctor stopped the breakdown of health issues as soon as I stated the miscarriage. She looked me right in the eye, took my hand and said "I'm sorry for the loss of your baby, truly I am." And the floodgates opened. For whatever reason, whatever amont of sincerity in her voice, whatever emotion I felt at that moment it became okay to grieve. For my lost child, for Byron's grandpa, for Papa, for the past year and a half of confusion and chaos. For the first time my anger towards God began to dissipate and was replaced with questions, the begging for answers and requests to allow myself to begin to heal.
I know that here on Earth I'll never have the answers I want. I know the past 18 months would have been drastically different had a single one of those three events not happened. Through every bit of chaos I can now see the blessings that have been poured out as well. There have been tough days... hard emotions to grapple with.
As I was driving yesterday I was thinking of all three of them up in Heaven. I know how special Madison was to both grandpas and how attached she was to them. And for the first time I was able to find an amazing amount of comfort last night in the fact that my baby, my child was not a product of conception but a child of God with a now everlasting beating heart in Heaven with two amazing great-grandfathers by his or her side. There will still be hurt. There will still be pain and angry moments, sadness and sorrow. But as Matthew West sings "Ohhhh the healing has begun...."
Last night I was driving and began thinking of all the events of the past year or two. It's a whirlwind of memories going through my head. Two things inparticular have continued to hit me hard. The miscarriage and Papa dying. It's so easy to blog about more mundane things, about daily stress and personal opinions. But it's nearly impossible for me to blog about the things that have hit me right in my innermost core. There are only two blogs to date regarding the miscarriage, both of them very angry posts. And not a single blog about Papa. I wish I could say I played those emotions out in real life but that's not the case. I internalized all of the pain and hurt and slowly the anger as well, forcing myself to believe I had to keep picking up pieces and move on. They've stayed in a very safe, locked up place for well over a year now. I'm not sure why I've kept so removed from them. Self-protection perhaps. Or maybe the fact that it just hurt way too much to let feelings surface more than necessary.
The morning after I had the miscarriage Byron and I went in for an already scheduled appointment. It was supposed to be the first appointment where we could listen to the heartbeat. And yet it had taken a dismal turn the night prior. The doctor performed an ultrasound and without a sign of apathy on her face stated "You've already passed the product of conception." Those words stung. The product of conception. And that was that. It wasn't an embryo to her, not a fetus and certainly not a baby. Simply the product of conception. I think that was the moment I turned off the switch. It was my baby, my child... and it was gone and to anyone but Byron and myself it was a sad situation and nothing more. I think people trying to come up with excuses for God was the worst part. Perhaps something was physically or mentally wrong with it and God was looking out for me. That was a common one. Or people stating that it happens to a lot of women for no known cause, making me a statistic more than anything. It was easiest to shut everyone out.
Switch gears. Shortly after my miscarriage Byron's grandpa died. In a few short years I had grown close to him. At times we were able to visit we could chat and chat and not run out of things to say. We exchanged probably hundreds of emails. And Madison adored him. After the miscarriage I stopped checking my email completely. I didn't answer phonecalls. Wouldn't talk to anyone. He had emailed several times asking if I was okay and if he had done or said something to upset me. And of course he hadn't. I was just trying to survive. But I never saw those emails. Christmas night we got the phonecall that he had died suddenly of a heart attack. I saw the emails from him the following week. I had obviously never responded.
Fast forward just a bit more. Papa got rediagnosed with leukemia for the 3rd time. Twice he fought it and against all odds, beat it. We were blessed with several additional years with him. But that third time hit hard. And after just a few short months I got the dreaded phonecall that I needed to get there. When Byron came to my work and told me how soon I needed to get there I allowed myself to break down for the first time in 3 months. Right there in the construction area at work I sobbed and choked on my own tears and cried out in anger and sorrow. And then I pulled it back together. Well, sort of.
Three major events had crashed down on me. You can only internalize that stuff for so long. After returning from Ohio there was a definite strain on mine and Byron's relationship. PTSD, deployments, all of the events that had just happened.... we were struggling. And the drama continues from there. Many stories throughout the past year. But the constant is that I never began to heal... I never let myself grieve.
About 2 months ago I went to see an endocrinologist for a myriad of health issues I've been having since the miscarriage. I've seen several doctors and I'm pretty sure at this point I had the routine down. The miscarriage was mentioned at every visit and I had become callously accustomed to stating it and moving on. 2 pregnancies, 1 live birth, no known cause for miscarriage, next issue please. But this doctor stopped the breakdown of health issues as soon as I stated the miscarriage. She looked me right in the eye, took my hand and said "I'm sorry for the loss of your baby, truly I am." And the floodgates opened. For whatever reason, whatever amont of sincerity in her voice, whatever emotion I felt at that moment it became okay to grieve. For my lost child, for Byron's grandpa, for Papa, for the past year and a half of confusion and chaos. For the first time my anger towards God began to dissipate and was replaced with questions, the begging for answers and requests to allow myself to begin to heal.
I know that here on Earth I'll never have the answers I want. I know the past 18 months would have been drastically different had a single one of those three events not happened. Through every bit of chaos I can now see the blessings that have been poured out as well. There have been tough days... hard emotions to grapple with.
As I was driving yesterday I was thinking of all three of them up in Heaven. I know how special Madison was to both grandpas and how attached she was to them. And for the first time I was able to find an amazing amount of comfort last night in the fact that my baby, my child was not a product of conception but a child of God with a now everlasting beating heart in Heaven with two amazing great-grandfathers by his or her side. There will still be hurt. There will still be pain and angry moments, sadness and sorrow. But as Matthew West sings "Ohhhh the healing has begun...."
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
This is the Stuff
It's been an overwhelming week and again I sit down to blog with my mind whirling and buzzing. Byron left this past week for Afghanistan, his third tour overseas and 2nd one to Afghanistan. He arrived at his final destination today and is beginning the process of "settling in". Another blog about all of this deployment stuff another day though :)
I've been tending to blog about chaos and the messiness of our lives a lot. It's no coincidence because it's what has been on my heart and mind almost constantly. A constant struggle to overcome it and a constant struggle to rise above it.
I've been dealing with this horrible condition called Benign Paraoxysmal Positional Vertigo. Basically, I'm dizzy. All the time. It's a condition where crystals are in your inner ear fluid that are supposed to be stationary on an organ within the ear. Normally no cause is found. Many time it goes away on its own but the duration can be weeks. It is mentally and physically exhausting. And very, very frustrating. It's hard to focus for work, hard to try and clean and keep up on housework, hard to take care of Madison and have patience with her. I fall and trip over my own two feet, drop things all the times, run into things. I go tomorrow for more testing on my ear and to develop more of a "treatment" plan which basically eliminates coffe, salt and sugar from my diet and entails me running back and forth across rooms with my eyes closed. Sound fun yet?
So Byon deployed last week. We have our old realtor sending harassing text messages and emails about what horrible people we are for switching realtors. There was last minute deployment stuff and then dealing with the adjustment of him being gone. Madison has been acting out since Byron has left. This week she cut the dog's hair... and then her own (leaving a good chunk of very short hair on the side of her head), constant spills and messes, new "creative" projects I'm finding she's done while I'm working or cooking or cleaning or passing out from being dizzy :) At one point she spilled an entire glass of milk on the couch and I literally sat down and cried over spilled milk. It didn't much matter in the end. I put the couch cover in the wash Saturday night and we went to my mom's on Sunday. Came home that evening and the couch was chewed through and destroyed... bits of yellow foam and white stuffing everywhere. That's been this week.
Today I got to feeling really bogged down and really anxious about how backed up I am on everything... on work, on cleaning, on laundry, on my to-do list. Ever present in any mom's life (but certainly more in that of a deployed soldier's wife) is the feeling that we are never doing enough, that we won't be able to do enough and therefore leads to an identity and feeling that we will never be enough. That's a tough pill to swallow. I got to thinking about it this afternoon. I put in hours for work this morning, did 2 loads of laundry, caught up on dishes, folded some laundry, bathed Madison, went to the post office (rent check sent, change of address done, military boxes picked up and pictures finally mailed out to family), got the insurance settlement checks deposited at the bank, got gas and car washed, Mother's Day gifts bought, grocery shopping done, groceries put away, car cleaned out, bubbles blown with Madison and chalk drawings complete, quick dinner, 2 more hours of work, cleaned up the living room, fed the dogs, bedtime routine (and got her into her own bed for the first time since Daddy left) I looked at my list which was only about a third of the way crossed off for the day and felt defeated. Why couldn't I have done more? And then it hit me. I couldn't have. I did what I could and for today, that was enough. Each day is enough.
On Sunday I spent a frantic Sunday looking for my phone I had lost the night prior. I could not miss Byron's call. Any person who has dealt with a deployment knows you cannot leave your phone. It is your lifeline. And when you miss those calls by thirty seconds you curse the voicemail and beg it to call back even though they just called 3 times. I was frazzled, had missed church by now and was about to go into an anxiety attack when Lynn texted me as I was putting the previously mentioned couch cover in the dryer and I heard it ding. I had dropped it the night prior between the washer and dryer. On my way home from my mom's house I was listening to the radio and (prior to finding the couch shredded) I heard this song by Francesca Battistelli, a Christian singer I'd never heard of before. I loved the sound of the music and the lyrics tell all you need to know!
Francesca Battistelli "This is the Stuff"
I lost my keys in the great unknown
And call me please 'Cuz I can't find my phone
This is the stuff that drives me crazy
This is the stuff that's getting to me lately
In the middle of my little mess
I forget how big I'm blessed
This is the stuff that gets under my skin
But I gotta trust You know exactly what You're doing
It might not be what I would choose
But this is the stuff You use
45 in a 35
Sirens and fines while I'm running behind
Whoa
This is the stuff that drives me crazy
This is the stuff that's getting to me lately
In the middle of my little mess
I forget how big I'm blessed
This is the stuff that gets under my skin
But I gotta trust You know exactly what You're doing
It might not be what I would choose
[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/this-is-the-stuff-lyrics-francesca-battistelli.html ]
But this is the stuff You use
So break me of impatience
Conquer my frustrations
I've got a new appreciation
It's not the end of the world
Oh Oh Oh
I've been tending to blog about chaos and the messiness of our lives a lot. It's no coincidence because it's what has been on my heart and mind almost constantly. A constant struggle to overcome it and a constant struggle to rise above it.
I've been dealing with this horrible condition called Benign Paraoxysmal Positional Vertigo. Basically, I'm dizzy. All the time. It's a condition where crystals are in your inner ear fluid that are supposed to be stationary on an organ within the ear. Normally no cause is found. Many time it goes away on its own but the duration can be weeks. It is mentally and physically exhausting. And very, very frustrating. It's hard to focus for work, hard to try and clean and keep up on housework, hard to take care of Madison and have patience with her. I fall and trip over my own two feet, drop things all the times, run into things. I go tomorrow for more testing on my ear and to develop more of a "treatment" plan which basically eliminates coffe, salt and sugar from my diet and entails me running back and forth across rooms with my eyes closed. Sound fun yet?
So Byon deployed last week. We have our old realtor sending harassing text messages and emails about what horrible people we are for switching realtors. There was last minute deployment stuff and then dealing with the adjustment of him being gone. Madison has been acting out since Byron has left. This week she cut the dog's hair... and then her own (leaving a good chunk of very short hair on the side of her head), constant spills and messes, new "creative" projects I'm finding she's done while I'm working or cooking or cleaning or passing out from being dizzy :) At one point she spilled an entire glass of milk on the couch and I literally sat down and cried over spilled milk. It didn't much matter in the end. I put the couch cover in the wash Saturday night and we went to my mom's on Sunday. Came home that evening and the couch was chewed through and destroyed... bits of yellow foam and white stuffing everywhere. That's been this week.
Today I got to feeling really bogged down and really anxious about how backed up I am on everything... on work, on cleaning, on laundry, on my to-do list. Ever present in any mom's life (but certainly more in that of a deployed soldier's wife) is the feeling that we are never doing enough, that we won't be able to do enough and therefore leads to an identity and feeling that we will never be enough. That's a tough pill to swallow. I got to thinking about it this afternoon. I put in hours for work this morning, did 2 loads of laundry, caught up on dishes, folded some laundry, bathed Madison, went to the post office (rent check sent, change of address done, military boxes picked up and pictures finally mailed out to family), got the insurance settlement checks deposited at the bank, got gas and car washed, Mother's Day gifts bought, grocery shopping done, groceries put away, car cleaned out, bubbles blown with Madison and chalk drawings complete, quick dinner, 2 more hours of work, cleaned up the living room, fed the dogs, bedtime routine (and got her into her own bed for the first time since Daddy left) I looked at my list which was only about a third of the way crossed off for the day and felt defeated. Why couldn't I have done more? And then it hit me. I couldn't have. I did what I could and for today, that was enough. Each day is enough.
On Sunday I spent a frantic Sunday looking for my phone I had lost the night prior. I could not miss Byron's call. Any person who has dealt with a deployment knows you cannot leave your phone. It is your lifeline. And when you miss those calls by thirty seconds you curse the voicemail and beg it to call back even though they just called 3 times. I was frazzled, had missed church by now and was about to go into an anxiety attack when Lynn texted me as I was putting the previously mentioned couch cover in the dryer and I heard it ding. I had dropped it the night prior between the washer and dryer. On my way home from my mom's house I was listening to the radio and (prior to finding the couch shredded) I heard this song by Francesca Battistelli, a Christian singer I'd never heard of before. I loved the sound of the music and the lyrics tell all you need to know!
Francesca Battistelli "This is the Stuff"
I lost my keys in the great unknown
And call me please 'Cuz I can't find my phone
This is the stuff that drives me crazy
This is the stuff that's getting to me lately
In the middle of my little mess
I forget how big I'm blessed
This is the stuff that gets under my skin
But I gotta trust You know exactly what You're doing
It might not be what I would choose
But this is the stuff You use
45 in a 35
Sirens and fines while I'm running behind
Whoa
This is the stuff that drives me crazy
This is the stuff that's getting to me lately
In the middle of my little mess
I forget how big I'm blessed
This is the stuff that gets under my skin
But I gotta trust You know exactly what You're doing
It might not be what I would choose
[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/this-is-the-stuff-lyrics-francesca-battistelli.html ]
But this is the stuff You use
So break me of impatience
Conquer my frustrations
I've got a new appreciation
It's not the end of the world
Oh Oh Oh
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