Worth The Fight

*I'm putting a disclaimer at the top to tell everyone that Chris is NOT deploying. I've been thinking about this blog post since Chris deployed two years ago and have seen first hand many friends and family deploy and TDY, but never had the right words to say or knew how to say it, so I've started and restarted and rewrote and edited it many times, and am just now posting it. This is not about me necessarily, just writing based on my combined experience and other's experiences- because I know many military spouses will be able to relate. Again, this is NOT necessarily a present day post ;)*

We were just pulling up to our group run when we got a phone call and I knew within 20 seconds whatever Chris was going to tell me after he hung up was going to ruin my night.

I can always tell who Chris is talking to by the his voice on the phone.

When it's his parents he opens with a gentle, "hey, hows it going?" followed be this odd fake yawn that both he and his dad do to fill the space between the greeting and the conversation.
When it's a friend he answers with "hey man what's up?" usually followed by his laugh - my favorite laugh that he does. The belly one.
When it's the Air Force calling, it's "This is Chris." or "Good evening, sir". This is typically my least favorite greeting. All the military wives know it and our stomachs always drop when we hear it.

What's it going to be? Another rush to the office? Another TDY? Or the worst - another deployment.

We sit anxiously staring at our husbands trying to eavesdrop or get as much information as possible from a one sided conversation, which our spouses are usually very calmly responding, "mhm" "yes" "absolutely" "no problem I can do that" while shooing us away and going into the bedroom. We sit on the other side, usually with our ear pressed up as hard as we can to the door.

And as we listen in, we think, "No." "Nope." "Well THAT's not going to work." "Absolutely not." But we know deep down we have no choice, because we know they have no choice.

Step One: Denial. "You can't go, we're going to see my family next week. Just tell them you can't go."

Step Two: Bargaining. "Tell them you can't go this time, but you'll take the next one."

Step Three: Anger. "Why do YOU have to go- can't they send someone else?" "THIS IS HORSE SHIT. WE'RE GOING TO THE BEACH THIS WEEKEND. YOU CAN'T GO TO (fill in some random ass state or country)." "We'll be missing (Fill in a holiday, birthday, new baby's birth, baptism, wedding)."

Step Four: Depression. It sets in you will not in fact be drinking a fruity alcoholic coconut drink on the beach with your husband this weekend or dancing the funky chicken together at your best friend from highschool's wedding.

Step Five: Working through it. Can anyone cancel an entire vacation faster than a military wife? I'd like to see them try.

Step Six: Acceptance. You do their laundry, fold their ABUs, and pack snacks for the airplane. You reach out to friends who will help you make plans for after they leave to help you get through the weekend. You put bear spray and a knife in your bed side dresser because you hate sleeping in your house alone, in the city you just moved to. Your boss tells you to take the day off work but you refuse, because you know sitting at home crying on the couch watching Sex and the City eating icecream for breakfast and walking past their crumpled clothes on the floor is actually worse than going to work and pretending you won't come home to an empty house.

So first we cry. A lot. For really no reason because honestly we know it could always be worse, and we know many, many, many military spouses have it a whole lot worse than we do. And we all signed up for this, but sometimes that doesn't make it any easier thinking about how other spouses have to do this all the time, or who have husbands whose jobs are more dangerous or who are gone more often. And there's no use feeling sorry for yourself because you just happened to fall in love with a person who puts their country in front of everything else.

Then we call the airlines and sometimes cry to the poor operators who are refunding or crediting vacation tickets, and we vent to our parents and siblings who always tell us they're proud of our sacrifice for our country, even though most of the time it doesn't feel like we do anything, and sometimes we take it out on our husbands when it's really not their fault. And we call our best friend who is also a military spouse, because she's the only one who truly understands.

And we drop our husbands off at the airport at 5 AM and go home and maybe cry a little bit more while showering and drinking coffee and the house is eerily quiet without them stomping around in their big ugly combat boots. And we start the countdown, whether its 365 days, 185 days or 21 days.

And then we move on with our day, weeks, months, as normal and wait for them to come back. We pack our schedules to keep our minds off wondering what they're doing or when they'll be back or the next time we'll talk to them. We know as much as the military loves to give a "coming home" date, that that date actually means nothing and it could be weeks or months after that date we're counting down to that they'll actually be home safe and we can breathe again. 

And after what sometimes feels like years and sometimes feels like no time at all, they come home. A wave of relief washes over you. That day is perfect. On the day he comes home, we start getting ready three hours before we have to leave for the airport. We hire a photographer. We get to the airport an hour early, just in case. You can finally let out the breath you've been holding in since the moment they got out of your eyesight when you dropped them off. 

And you go home together and it's like they never left at all. 

But we then we wake up the next day. And we get to hold our breath until we get the next phone call when we have to wash and pack their uniform, or quit yet another job, or start packing boxes (or more accurately, move boxes that you never bothered to unpack in the first place), or say goodbye to the military wife who lives across the street who also happens to be your best friend. 

But despite all of this, there's nothing, nothing, in this world that makes me prouder than thinking about how much our military men and women sacrifice so that I can live in this country. There's so much on social media right now about how much our country sucks and how our leadership is shit, how our laws don't give equal rights, and the news is flooded with threats and murder and slander and racism and negativity, but we are still the lucky ones. 

I am still, despite everything that is wrong with this country - and I know there's a lot we all have to work on - proud to be an American. Proud to wave the flag. Proud to stand with my hand over my heart and sing the National Anthem. Proud to be a military wife. Proud of my friends and family who are in the military for continuing to stand up for freedom and liberty, even for people who have different beliefs than them. 

I want to thank each and every military member, each and every wife, husband, child, mother, father, sibling, for supporting those who fight for our freedom. We support our military family members - we pack their lunches and wash their uniforms and stifle our complaints when they TDY or deploy or we have to move to...where!? - so we can live in a country where it's okay to criticize our leadership and question politics or protest or write about what we think is right or wrong on our social media with no second thought. That is a privilege in this world, and it is all thanks to the men and women who protect our freedom on a daily basis. 

So, thank you. Thank you military spouses. For keeping the house running so our men and women can do their job. Thank you military members, for continuing to fight for a country that consists of some people who sometimes probably don't deserve to be fought for. Thank you for answering every single phone call that starts with, "Good evening, sir".

Thank you for continuing to believe that, even though some parts of this country might need work, the whole is still good, and that it's still worth fighting for.

-Katie