redeployment

The term redeployment refers to a unit or soldier coming home from a deployment (not deploying again, as I thought when I first heard the term). As my husband and his fellow troopers near redeployment, we are given resources and strategies on how to best handle the transition. One resource says, "Redeployment is not an event; it is a process."

I think this is the hardest part for first timers and civilian family members to understand. Thankfully, I'm not naive enough to believe that everything will be perfect when he walks in the door. I'm definitely ready to have him home. I'm so tired of this separation and ready to have a human husband, not just a computer I'm attached to. I want him home more than anything. However, it doesn't feel like one exciting event and that's it. Don't get me wrong, the day I see him on the field coming toward me, I will be a blubbering mess. I won't be able to sleep the night before knowing that my soldier will soon be with me, face to face, lip to lip. Yet, I still find myself holding back.

One of the reasons that I can't get overly excited about his return is that I've learned in my year and a half as an Army wife that plans change quickly and often. I may be given a certain date and/or time for his return and that could change multiple times before his last plane lands. This can be an extremely stressful time, as I have to remain flexible, ready for anything, and somewhat guarded. I can't get my hopes up for a certain time. My husband will be returning on a military flight, so if there are problems with equipment, he doesn't just catch the next plane out. He will have to wait until the plane gets fixed or another one becomes available. I know he's coming soon, and within a certain window of time, but I can't get excited until I know he's already en route to his final destination.

Another reason I may seem hesitant to become excited is that we have a lot of work ahead of us. It will be worthwhile, desired work, but work nonetheless. People are constantly changing, but separation makes those changes more obvious. I know I have changed, and John certainly has as well. His return will not just be a giant celebration (though it will be that!), it will also be a sensitive time of relearning each other as spouses and individuals. My priorities and perspectives on things have shifted. John's world and self views have altered. Redeployment will be a period of time in which we come together again and work out these new differences and similarities. It is a time to regroup and check in with one another.

Logistically, redeployment is very much a process as well. He may leave his current post to go to the one he'll be flying out of, but not leave there for a day or two. Just him getting here may be a three day process. He will be busy with briefs and traveling. Our communication will most likely be spotty. When he lands in the states, he will have more processing to do. He will be here, but it will be another one to two hours before I can see him. He will be traveling with his weapon and when they land he will have to turn it in before he goes on the field to greet me. There will be a couple hundred soldiers that will need to do the same, as well as some other tasks, before they can leave the airfield and get on the buses to come to awaiting family and friends. Once they are bused over to the field where loved ones are waiting, they need to disembark the bus and get into formation. The chaplain will pray and say a few words. The color guard will retire the colors. After all of that, we will be able hug our soldiers and take them home.

And yet, with all of that, the in-processing is still not over. He will return to regular work days. He will have physical training in the morning and a series of tasks he's to accomplish each day as a part of his "reverse soldier readiness program." This will include a physical and medical evaluation, a phycological evaluation, turning in equipment, and other various duties. The time immediately following deployment is often a scary one, as the amount of serious incident reports goes up. These "serious incidents" include things like domestic violence, drunk driving accidents, and suicide. The men and women in charge of the unit try to minimize these incidents by keeping a controlled environment and a tight reign on the soldiers until they are well acclimated into their new lifestyle. It will be frustrating as his wife because I will want him home, but it is an important part of his transition.

Much of the questions I have been asked are things that I can't answer. Sometimes the answers are too personal to talk about, things I can't share for security purposes, or are simply answers that I do not have. It is an exciting event that I'm so looking forward to. However, please understand that it is also a complex, sensitive process. My desire right now is to not share anything with anyone because it feels like if I give a bit of information, people want to know more. I know the questions are genuine and heartfelt, and I feel guilty for being annoyed by them. However, often times the questions remind me of all the things that I do not know. I've explained the basics of what the next few months will look like, but as far as the specifics go, only time will tell. I don't want anyone to think that I don't want to share the joy of my husband's return. He is loved by many, and we are so thankful for that. I will let our friends and family know once he's back. I'm sure that much of this anxiousness and stress will subside once he's finally in my arms. For now, however, I ask that you let me lay low for a bit. I need privacy and solitude to process my own emotions and personal changes that have occurred over this period. I need distance from the noise to be able to be fully present for my husband. I need grace to be able to feel all these things, and so much more. I need the courage to face the unknown. I need the strength to join with my husband as a united team and face this next phase in our lives. I need the freedom to finally be able to experience the immense joy of our reunion.

I love you all and know that you love me and John so much. I covet your prayers and quiet support; I know we need it. I'm thankful to be a part of a family that mourns together and rejoices together. I love keeping everyone in the loop and up to date on the latest news. I'm a storyteller and extrovert at heart. I doubt I'll be quiet for long. Until then, I send my love and gratitude to you all, and thank you for the space in advance. He'll be in my arms soon. :)

labor

"I can't help but compare it to the transition period during labor. You're super close to your happy ending, but somehow it feels that much more overwhelming and shitty. You only get that ultra-high after experiencing ultra-pain."

My friend wrote those words to me almost a month ago. As I read her words, I was so thankful to have friends who speak my language, who know exactly what to say to me. 

Transition is the last stage of active labor, just before pushing begins. A woman is typically fully dilated or very close. This is the worst part for most women. Her logical brain shuts off and she begins to utter or think unreasonable things. She is exhausted after many hours of laboring. She can become shaky, panicky, and weepy. However, this stage is typically short and passes quickly, especially when the woman is well-supported. She gets her second wind and is ready to push out her baby. 

I've had this analogy on my mind all month. I'm getting so close to my happy ending, but my friend is right: it feels overwhelming and shitty. Again, the fear of the unknown creeps in. Am I going to split in half? Do I have what it takes to get through this? Will everyone be safe and healthy? Is my family going to be ok? Am I ready to take on the challenges of what's to come? 

Time feels suspended in the air. It feels as though there is a clock floating in space, counting down days, yet there is no logical pattern in any of it. Time is some abstract idea that I cannot grasp. Just as pregnancy will end, this deployment will end, yet no one can say exactly when. I am like a pregnant woman in labor who wants pregnancy to be over with, to hold her love in her arms, but no one can tell me exactly when that will happen. No one knows how much longer I must endure. 

But getting that baby out isn't the end of labor. The placenta must also come out. Any tears that occurred must be repaired. Any bleeding must be stopped. The uterus contracts and begins to return back to it's original size, though it may take many weeks or months to do so. The family begins to transition into it's new dynamics.  

Many woman have found that the most freeing part of labor is the moment they surrender to the process. We fight and resist pain, we try to protect ourselves from any harm. Yet pain in labor means that things are doing what they are supposed to. It means things are moving along and the end is nearing. It means a life is coming into this world. In this process of deployment, I have found freedom in surrendering to the process. Pain means I'm very much alive. Pain means my heart is wide open to let love out. 

This surrendering to the pain and process means I'm regaining my strength. It's allowing me to glide through life's ups and downs, one pressure wave at a time, without resisting the rhythm of it all. It means I've regained hope and confidence as I transition into the next stage. I'm starting to get my second wind. I will come through this. Tears may need to be stitched. Wounds may bleed. Pain and stinging will be felt. But life... fresh, sweet, new life... will come out of this process. 

deployment as seen in sleeping positions

The beginning

 A few months in

 Half way through

 Currently, with one month left

I'm going to have to start training myself to sleep on my side of the bed again. ;)