rest and recuperation

Well, hello there! I have not written anything in a while because I was enjoying some rest and recuperation with my soldier. From what I understand (and it's constantly changing), soldiers who have deployment orders for more than nine months get a 15 day mid-tour leave called "R & R." Soldiers are given an approximate date for their leave, but no other specifics than that until a few hours ahead of time. Since John was the last one to get leave out of our circle of Army families, I was trying to get more information from the others about what they experienced and how the process went. As I talked to other Army wives, it was quickly apparent that no two experiences are the same and that I couldn't really gain any clues about details for John's leave. John was given a two-week window for when he may leave. That's the only information we knew for about a month. Then a couple of weeks ahead of time, he was given a specific day in which he was to report to his superiors for more information.

Once he reported to his superiors, he was given a briefing on how he is expected to conduct himself en route and while on leave. He then was transported to a bigger base where he was to fly out of. He was able to contact me once he got to the bigger base and inform me that he was supposed to be leaving the Middle East some time that evening. I didn't hear from him at all overnight so the next morning I assumed he was on his way to somewhere in Europe. He messaged me shortly after I woke up, however, saying that he still hadn't left the Middle East. He was able to give me an approximate time he was to arrive at his final destination: 2 pm the next day. 24 hours later, I hadn't heard from him again and it was nearing the time I would have to leave to drive almost 3 hours to the airport. I was getting very irritable and anxious at this point. I hadn't slept well in two days and multiple people were texting me asking when he was coming. I just kept saying, "I don't know," which heightened my stress because I really didn't know anything about where in the world my husband was. At that point, I didn't know if he had left the Middle East yet, if he had left Europe, or if he was still supposed to be arriving around 2. Still, I got ready and headed out not knowing if/when/where he'd be arriving.

Because I was going to one of the largest airports in the states, I was stressed about going to the right gate. Knowing that he was most likely on a military flight, I called the airport to see if anyone had information about where military flights arrive. I called the airport's mainline and kept getting disconnected. I just started going down the list of phone numbers on the airport's website until I got someone. Finally, someone transferred me to the USO. The USO informed me that there was in fact an international military flight arriving at 2 in terminal B. I still didn't know if he was on that flight, but it was the best guess I had.

About an hour into my drive, John called me from the East coast; what a relief! He gave me information about what airlines he would be flying and his flight number. After I hung up with him, I called my mom and asked her to find out what gate that flight number was arriving at. She told me a gate in D terminal. I felt more calm now that I had a flight number and a specific gate. However, a few minutes later my dad texted me saying, "I think that gate was a typo because that airline doesn't fly into D, only E. Hold on, your mom is calling the airline." I'm pretty sure this is when the sweats and shakes started because it was also the time when people started flooding my phone saying they had heard that John was on his way home. Lack of sleep, trying to drive in an unfamiliar area, the emotions of seeing my husband for the first time in 8 months, distracting text messages, and numerous changes in information all started to result in me being on the verge of a breakdown. I texted my dad, "I'll be at the airport in 10 mins... where am I going??"

I got a gate number from my parents, found a parking spot, rolled down the windows, and practiced some deep breathing. I had arrived an hour early and took the time to (attempt to) calm myself down and freshen up. I went inside and spoke with an employee to double check that I was at the right place for that flight number; he assured me I was. As I was waiting, something just felt wrong. I had no context for knowing where I was supposed to be (no one I talked to picked their husbands up at this airport), but my intuition told me that something wasn't right. I found the airline's desk and spoke with some agents explaining where he was coming from and that he was coming for his R&R leave. They explained that the airline was contracted out by the military and that even though this was the terminal where that airline arrives, all military flights arrived in terminal B (the terminal I was originally headed to). My eyes got really big as I looked at the clock; his plane was arriving in 40 minutes and I was in the wrong terminal! Hello, sweaty pits. The gate agent looked at me and told me to breathe and that it wasn't far away. I got in my car and drove to the correct terminal, although that part is a bit of a blur. I was running through the airport in heels and a little red halter top muttering "B 33, B 33, B 33" as I scanned the signs. A middle aged woman was walking toward me and said, "Honey, are you coming for a soldier?" Exasperated, I replied, "Yes! Is it that obvious?" She smiled and said, "It's this way." She then took me back to an area I had already walked passed, an area with American flags and photographers. I told her that I saw that area but that the agent told me to go to B 33! She kept telling me I was in the right place and she was the first person I trusted. I probably should have hugged her, but I was way too out of it to think of that then. Plus, I needed to practice my deep breathing again.

As I was waiting, Veterans and patriotic citizens started to file in to welcome home the returning soldiers. Two other wives showed up. I handed over my camera to someone. A lady with a clipboard shouted, "5 minutes to touch down!" If my pits had stopped sweating, they most definitely started again then. USO volunteers shuffled us up to where the soldiers would be coming from. Someone turned on patriotic music and I think I jumped with every crash of a symbol. The soldiers came from around a corner very slllloooowwwwlllly, adding to my anxiousness. Each handful of soldiers that trickled through got a warm round of applause and handshakes from those thanking them for their service. Finally, I saw John. I wanted to run all the way to where he was, but I waited for him to get a little closer. When I couldn't take it any longer, I ran toward him, practically knocking over a Vet who was shaking his hand. I jumped up into his arms and wrapped my legs around his waist. He spun me around with his arms engulfing me. He then put me down and kissed me like I've never been kissed! I was crying and laughing at the same time, so overwhelmed with emotions. It had been 234 days since I held him in my arms and I didn't want to let go, ever.