It's Official

So it’s official. (Actually it was official a week ago, but I think I needed some time to consider what that meant.) My daughter, Sevilla, has been selected to deploy for 365 days. I’m not going to say where she's going, or what she’ll be doing, since I have no idea what is (or isn’t) covered by OPSEC (operational security, for those of you who don’t speak military acronyms). She won’t deploy for a while, so I have some time to get used to the idea; but she will deploy.

Now being who I am, I’ve already started looking at the practical impacts of her deployment. Sevilla’s a single parent, so obviously the biggest concern was her daughter. Of course, we will be ready, willing, and able to look after the Princess while her mom is serving her country. It won’t be much of a change, since the Princess lives with us anyway. She’ll attend the same school. She’ll sleep in the same bed. She’ll enhance the lives of her Grandparents; just like she does now. The only difference will be that her mom will be away for a while. I’ve already started to make plans on how to minimize the impact to the Princess. Sevilla and I have already considered a blog for the Princess (restricted to family and friends) as a way for her to post her thoughts and pictures and “stuff” in order to communicate with her mom. I also know that communication these days is quite different from when I was a kid and my dad had to rely on flimsy airmail paper and reel-to-reel tapes to communicate with his family. With the internet, email, webcams, and telephones, it should be fairly easy for Sevilla to keep in touch with the Princess. I also know, though, that it’s not the same and that my husband and I will have to try to fill a place in the Princess’ life that can be filled by only her mother. From the practical side, it will be tough; but thousands of kids, mothers, and grandparents have already dealt with a deployed parent and survived. We will, too.

Being who I am, I’m having a lot more trouble dealing with the “inside” impact. I’m not sure why. After all, my husband and my son have already deployed, and I was able to deal with their deployment (eventually). I know that I am proud of her and her choice to serve. I know that I think she’s doing the right thing for the right reasons. I know that I envy her the chance to do something that both of us consider very important. What I don’t know is how I really “feel” about it. For some reason, I seem to have decided not to feel. I don’t know why. Perhaps it is because there is still some time before she actually leaves. Perhaps it is because I know it will be difficult for me. All I know is that I don’t want to “feel” anything about Sevilla deploying to a dangerous place until I have to. Is it a defense mechanism? Maybe. I just know that when I do allow myself to “feel,” those feelings will be extremely complex and will cover a wide-range of emotions. In the meantime, I’ll continue to plan for the practical “outside” aspects of Sevilla’s deployment and try to let the “inside” aspects sort themselves out. I’ve was able to do it when I watched my son go off to war. I can do it again as I prepare for my daughter to do the same.

Staying Behind

This is something I wrote last November, just after my son deployed to Iraq:

My son, a Marine Corporal, just left for a deployment in Iraq. In 2003, my husband served in Baghdad, just before he retired from the Air Force. A friend asked me if it was harder sending my son or sending my husband.

Hard Question.

My husband and I have been married for 31 years. He is my partner and best friend. When he left for Iraq I felt like I went into hibernation. It was like someone hit the "pause" button on the DVD of my life. My kids were grown and out of the house. I'm not certain I suffered from "empty nest syndrome" when they went off to school; but my nest sure felt empty when my husband deployed. Don't get me wrong. When my husband deployed, I was still on active duty and had numerous responsibilities. That part of my life continued, and I think I was able to function well and get the job done (at least my performance report says so). But everything else shut down, to the point that I worried both my mom and my kids. I didn't want to talk to family or friends. Except for work, I was on "pause" until my husband came home. I don't know, maybe this emotional/life "pause" was my way of coping with the knowledge that he was in harm's way. But then, again, maybe I just needed a rest.

My reaction to my son's deployment has been different. I don't know why, but there hasn't been the same need to "pause" and wrap myself in emotional insulation to the point I don't even want to interact with anyone close to me. Maybe it's the different circumstances. When my husband deployed, the house was empty except for me. I had the luxury of using that "pause" button to distance myself from anxiety and stress (to the point I also distanced myself from everyone and everything). My circumstances are different now. I'm not alone. I have to interact with the family close to me; my husband, my daughters and thier families. I see them most days. I also recognize that my son's new wife needs support more than I do. She's a newlywed, left in a new town, without a support structure. I can't distance myself. I can't "pause." For some reason, I think they need me to be strong, to be available, to support them, and help them with their anxiety and stress. For some reason, being needed helps me deal with my own stress and anxiety.

Don't get me wrong, it was hard, extremely hard, to see my "little" boy get on that bus with his weapon and gear and head down the road that will ultimately take him into harm's way. But, I'm extremely proud of him. He's stepped forward and said, "I'll go" when our Nation is threatened. He serves because he knows this Country and our way of life is worth his service. He's a Patriot. But he's also my little boy. My beloved son. I birthed him, loved him, and raised him. Although he's now a man (and a big, strong one at that), I still have the instinct to protect him from anything harmful. So, there are more conflicting emotions inside me, seeing my son deploy. On one hand, there's pride in the man he's become, and there's joy in seeing him do something he believes is right. On the other hand, there's anxiety and a desire to protect. I know I can trust in his intelligence, and the training he's received to help keep him safe. But it's still tough.

It would be easier to go myself........