The Joy Of Having My Husband Check On Me

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Last week I had to leave my husband who was still on base wrapping up his deployment. It was late afternoon and I knew I would see him again the next afternoon when he came home for good from his yearlong assignment. I had a long drive to make and it was hard to leave him, knowing he would come home the next day and we would find ourselves suddenly knee-deep in the reintegration process. We had a lot of big decisions to make and I knew that once he came home the tough post-deployment realities would set in. I cried about that on that day.

We had a beautiful prayer together and took a walk on the beach before I left. I felt a lot better. After I'd been on the road about ninety minutes, he called. It meant the world to me. He said he was just calling to check in on me. I told him how happy I was to have someone check in on me. It had been a long time since I'd had anyone check on me to see if I was safe - about a year! I don't know if he will ever understand how much that meant to me. He was all I had thought about since I left him. How I missed him. Hearing his voice on the phone let me know he was thinking of me and missing me too. An hour later he called again and we talked one more time before I got home.

Being able to hear from him and call him anytime is a delicious treat after a year of not being able to call him and having no idea when he could call. Having him check up on me and knowing he was missing me and thinking of me even though we had only been apart for an hour or two was priceless!

The Thing I Hated Most About Pre-deployment

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Remember in Peter Pan, the crocodile that swallowed the alarm clock? That is the image I think of when I think of the one thing I most hated about Pre-deployment. In Peter Pan, even if you couldn't see the crocodile, you could hear that damn ticking clocking always in the background, getting louder and louder all the time.

That is what time felt like to me during Pre-deployment. From the moment we got word he would deploy, it was like that crocodile with the ticking clock was following us everywhere. Every day at some point the ticking crocodile would pass by. It could be while watching TV, sitting down to eat, hugging Mr. Hart, falling asleep. The sweeter the moment the louder the ticking clock became.

The crocodile would pass under our legs while we sat in the movie theater, listening to the national anthem, singing God Bless America at the ball park. Holidays were the worst. Sure we're together this Thanksgiving but next year he'll be in Afghanistan. We ended up spending the Christmas before deployment alone together which was a huge mistake. It was a failure to commit to a plan and ended in an unhappy situation that almost ended our relationship. All haunted by the thoughts of where he'd be next Christmas. New Years came and it brought the year he would deploy. In the months leading up to his deployment he was only at home about eight weeks total. And all the while that crocodile was ticking. I heard it when I needed him at home and he was gone, when we talked on the phone and Skyped. It was all practice for the real deal that would be our lives once deployment started The stress of the ticking magnified as the months and weeks passed and we got closer and closer to his deployment date. It's shadow was visible with every bit of joy we attempted to have even though we absolutely made the most of our time together in those months.

And there was no getting rid of it no matter how much I tried. It was the one thing I just had to suffer through and try to not let get me down. There certainly wasn't any way to slow down time or stop the inevitable. In the books and military handouts I received there were two things that got me through this period.

First, that Pre-deployment is awful and that there often comes a time when you just want the damn thing to hurry up and start. That surprised me. How could anyone feel that way I thought. Well, you know what, in the last week or so before he left, I did just want to get it started already. The sooner we got going the faster it would be over. We were ready, we were just sitting there listening to the crocodile clock every night, even though we were out doing a lot of fun things as a family. It was time to get the thing started.

Second, that Pre-deployment can be worse that the start of actual deployment. I found this to be true too. The stress level does go down once you have had that traumatic goodbye you've been dreading for so long. You suddenly find things shockingly quiet, you're a little lost but you have time to think about yourself a bit and try to find your footing again. It is a tough time because mostly what you do is worry a lot at first, but after being so focused on your other half, this is the time you have to take care of yourself. Things get simpler and you can actually focus on deployment instead of staring at all the fears of it without actually being in it.

That darned crocodile was definitely my biggest hate in Pre-deployment and if I had to do it again, even with what I know now that wouldn't change much. But at least I know it eventually stops ticking and life gets a little simpler and easier. It was eerily quiet once I watched that plane take off that took my man away for a year. I didn't miss that crocodile one bit!

God's Miracle Pocket Dial

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This morning I was reminded of a really sweet story I wanted to share here. It's a touch sentimental and a little gift for all the MILSOs out there. The night before my husband left for deployment last summer we had our BIG goodbye phone call and said all the things you say before your most important person goes off to a war zone or you leave your family and homeland for a war zone.

I knew it would be a few days before I heard him again as he made his way, zig-zagging across the planet to his final destination. So I hunkered down and prepared myself for the waiting game and tried not to worry. The next morning I tried to sleep in, which wasn't hard because I wasn't sleeping well. About nine in the morning my cell phone rang, and it was HIS ring. I ran for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Babes?"

(rustling noises)

It took me a moment to realize he wasn't on the line and it seemed like he had somehow pocket dialed me. I tried to call his name out when his voice got a little louder and it seemed like he was near his phone, but he didn't hear me. I didn't have the heart to hang up, so I stayed on the line and just tried to hold onto him by listening to him moving around and talking with the other folks he was traveling with.

Pretty soon I realized he was going through a farewell ceremony and I could hear him going down a line of people saying "Thank you, thank you..thank you." As each one wished them well, shook their hands and sent them off I could hear the same thank yous from the men behind him and in front of him as they walked to the plane. It was such a sweet moment to hear the appreciation and love I wanted to be giving to him in that moment being given to him by others. My heart swelled a bit.

Then I heard them get on the plane and there was lots of joking around and loud rustling as they all found their seats and got settled. Then I listened to him just goofing around with everyone for a while. Then I heard the chaplain stand up and offer a prayer.

I sat and cried while I listened to that prayer. Oh, the depth and meaningfulness of prayers in our most dire moments. I loved hearing him pray for our service members on that plane. And then he said the words that caught my ear, melted into my heart and will stay with me forever. He prayed at some length for the families of those service members that they would be watched over, protected, cared for and loved. That they would return to find them well when their deployment was over.

I realized at that moment that while we are praying for them with all our hearts, their chief concern is us, their loved ones at home. They are so far away and can do so little to help in times of trouble. That is very hard for a warrior heart! Feeling helpless is something they do not well. They are problem solvers and caretakers, take-charge types who like to attack problems and get them solved PRONTO. You can imagine how hard it must be for them to be so far away, so out of touch with things at home. They worry about us. They pray for us.

So with all those prayers being offered collectively and individually for us by our service members, we should take care and comfort on the homefront that their prayers are just as powerful and plentiful as ours. We are prayed for and watched over too.

I stayed with him, on the phone for about an hour until I realized they were preparing for takeoff. It was hard to hang up knowing it would be the last time I talked to him on his cell. But my heart was full and I knew it was time. Later when I did talk to him, I told him what had happened. He was much more surprised than I imagined. He said I am so happy you were there! It was so amazing, there was a huge crowd of people there sending us off. It was really special. I am so glad you got to hear all of that and to hear the Chaplain's Prayer!

My husband has pocket dialed me maybe twice in five years. I know that accidental pocket dial was no accident in the big picture, but rather a miraculous gift. I treasure the blessing of that day.

On The Spot: The Public Hellos and Goodbyes

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Saying goodbye to the love of your life in a crowd of other people becomes pretty routine when you are a military significant other or spouse. Goodbyes happen in parking lots, on ship docks and plenty of times at airports and on curbs in front of airports. It's usually not just goodbye for a couple of days, it's goodbye for a couple of months or far longer.

Mr. Hart had been coming and going most of the time in the two years before our deployment started. I had lived on my own as a adult for long time before we got together so adjusting to the back and forth of being together and alone for a few weeks or a couple of months at a time was probably a little easier for me than it is for some. Sure I'd shed a tear or two, but I always had things to keep me busy and I tried not to add any extra stress to the situation by getting too emotional.

When it was time to pick him up for deployment R&R, I had just learned a couple weeks before that we could go up to the gate to wait. It was an opportunity that I was not going to miss. We only had five hours notice that he was coming home two days early. I'll write another post one of these days about the chaos and stress that caused, not that we weren't thrilled that he would be home sooner than expected especially the week before Christmas.

I will say my memories of the entire R&R seem like they are filtered through a weird lens of exhaustion, anticipation, stress, dizzy happiness and apprehension of the quickly passing days. I remember sweet details of his arrival but the most painful and poignant moment came when we said goodbye.

The airport was pretty quiet that early morning. Quiet for one of the largest airports in the world that is. We were rushing and running behind. Everything was slower than it needed to be and to make things worse, the agent didn't mention that his flight was departing from another terminal. So by the time we got to the gate the boarding area was empty and the flight was probably a minute or two from closing it's doors. We only had time for a quick hug and kiss.

Of course both of us girls started crying and hugging our Daddy. Just then two female passengers walked up. We were standing there clinging to our Daddy and it was just us, the gate agent and these two women in the cavernous waiting area. When the two women realized who we were and what was happening they started crying.

It was the weirdest, sweetest, most uncomfortable and yet comforting thing ever. I felt like suddenly my little clan was acting out the tearjerker goodbye scene from Act of Valor, Army Wives or a cable holiday movie about the military family saying goodbye to their husband and dad -- the clincher scene the director knows will break his audience's hearts and bring everyone to tears. You know the scene where the LCDR Rorke says goodbye to his pregnant wife, Frank and Denise exchange their cards, Roxy begs Trevor to come back to her, etc.

There was a little part of me that got totally distracted. For a split second I wasn't in our goodbye anymore, I was locked in eye contact with this crying stranger behind us. I was realizing that our family privacy was a public spectacle. I was realizing that someone else felt our pain, our grief, our sadness. (I can't even write about this still without crying.) It was the craziest mix of compassion and violation that I have ever felt. I wasn't mad at those women for seeing us or for crying, I just felt on the spot. Suddenly, maybe for the first time, I was "Oh that poor military wife and little girl." Maybe it was that outpouring of sadness and pity that so caught me off guard and at the same time made me feel better. I still don't know what to make of that flash of mixed emotions I felt that day.

The entire scene lasted no longer than one minute. And then my Mr. Hart, our Daddy, walked through the gate and off to the second half of deployment with the two ladies right behind him. Clementine and I stood and waited, hoping to get another glimpse but the layout of the gate area made it impossible. We stood for a few minutes, she cried. We didn't really know what to do with ourselves. It was as if we'd been on a roller coaster, riding it for two straight weeks. Then the ride came to it's usual rough and screeching end, we stepped off and stood on the platform, dizzy, confused and a little lost.

We were quickly thrown back into our anonymity and no one knew who we were or what we'd just been through. We stood and stared at the plane. She cried on and off in big waves. We slowly started the long journey back to the other terminal where our car was parked. It all went by so quickly. We were back in our neighborhood within minutes due to the complete lack of traffic on the freeway and it wasn't even 7 AM yet.

There weren't many places to go and going straight home seemed a little empty and sad. So we stopped at one of the only places open at that early hour, the donut shop. It was filled with homeless people, who were obviously very happy to have somewhere warm to hang out at that early hour. They were very chatty and some a little scary.  We bought more donuts than we could possibly eat and sat in the car and ate donuts and drank chocolate milk until we felt a little sick. Then we packed up the rest and went home to face our suddenly very quiet little home without him.

Even though there were only five of us on scene, this was our most public, on-the-spot goodbye ever. That and the wailing little boy crying "Dadddyyyyyy," over and over when we first sent them off on deployment will be two of the most powerfully emotional memories I keep with me from our time as a deployed military family.

The Most Difficult Pre-Deployment Goodbye

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Watching Mr. Hart and his daughter say goodbye was definitely the biggest sobfest I had before he deployed. It was one of the saddest moments of my life. It was the day before he deployed and even though we'd been with him for a week on base while he did final preparations, we'd hardly seen him. Because he'd been in training and exercises the past seven months he hadn't even started most of the pre-deployment homework he needed to do. So he was working from seven in the morning until two or three the next morning each day. It was rugged and really taking a toll on him and we were missing him and wanting desperately to spend time with him.

The day before he deployed his daughter was to visit her mother, so we had to say goodbye just before I left to make the long drive to take her to mom. I would be back on base in a few hours after I took her back and maybe have a few more minutes with Daddy before he left the next day. We went to meet Daddy at the office where he had been working and we all went outside to the picnic tables for a little privacy. We took some photos and then I just let the two of them spend some time together. I went a little way off and as they clung to each other I turned into a bucket of tears.

I took a bunch of photos of them sitting there on the picnic bench, her on his lap. She was hiding her face under her favorite blanket and just curled up in her Daddy's arms. They didn't talk, except for a few parting words Daddy tried to instill in his girl's heart before saying goodbye. They just held each other and I stood across the courtyard and cried and took pictures of them. She was so peaceful that she fell asleep in his arms for a few minutes and he sat, hunched over with his face on hers.

When it was time to go they said goodbye and she cried. I think his heart was breaking, thinking about missing an entire year of her life. He walked us to the car, got us settled and then headed back inside. As we drove away she was full of questions about what Dad was doing and where he was going even though we'd talked through all those questions time and time again. Then she said, "How will Daddy get home if we took his car? How will he get back to us?"

That was not a question I was expecting but realizing what was going through her head tore me up. I was so happy to be able to assure her that we would pick Daddy up and that he didn't need his car right now. I told her that she and I would come and meet Daddy and have a great celebration when he came home next summer. She seemed relieved although understanding how long it would be until next summer was impossible for her to register.

We drove across the base and went to the park for a few minutes, playing with kids we'd met during the week. It was somehow comforting to sit with other military wives and kids who knew what we were feeling. Then it was time to make that long drive to take her to her mom knowing that things wouldn't feel normal again for a long, long time. I wondered how she would handle the very long year ahead of us.

More than half way through now I am happy to say that even though she misses her Dad intensely, she has been a fantastic support to him. She has written piles of letters and drawn lots of pictures. She has helped with care packages, left voicemails for him and sent lots of online messages filled with every little girly emoticon you could imagine: sunshines, squirrels, hearts, stars, teddy bears, smiley faces, kissy lips and too many XOXOs to count. She's been able to Skype with her Dad, had a great R&R with him and has really taken on the challenge "We can do it." I am super proud of her and I can't wait to cry again when I see the two of them arm in arm in just a few months. How I love those two and will never forget that day, watching them say goodbye to each other.