Just a thought

Steve, Sam, and I were taking a walk around our neighborhood yesterday evening (no doubt trying to hold out for a 7pm bedtime) when we turned down a street where one of the soldiers in Steve's company lives. I met him and his wife at the brigade ball we went to. Y'all remember that, don't you? I'm surprised I remember that. Since then, they moved a few streets over from us and we both keep saying we'll have the other one over, but it never happens. I just wanted to oogle at their house for a minute and see some different scenery, but lo and behold, they were outside finishing some yard work.

We never had a chance to really talk before. The ball was loud and people with no sense were trashed (me!) and overall it was just tough to have a decent conversation. So we caught up. And I have uncovered a whole new appreciation for the sacrifices our military are making every day for us.

(For storytelling purposes, I will call the wife "Sue" and the husband "Joe.")

Sue was looking at Sammy and telling me how cute he was. I knew they had children (it was the reason they "upgraded" to the house they are in) and inquired about them. She explained that Joe had three kids from a previous marriage and they had one daughter together. Since she and her husband deployed at the same time, the three children were living with their mother and their daughter was still living with her grandparents. She left her daughter when she was only three months old. And hasn't "lived" with her since. She's now eighteen months old but has no real understanding that these two people she sees occasionally are her parents. In fact, she's slightly scared of her dad.

What hit me hardest is that she said something like, "So I don't really feel like a mom." I literally launched Sammy her way, knowing that holding my sweet little sack of potatoes couldn't make up for not holding hers. I wanted to put some sort of band-aid on that GIANT hurt and give her back the first year of her daughter's life that she missed. I wanted her to see the first smile, the tiny mannerisms, the first infectious laugh she got when you made a silly face. The feeling you get when you walk into their room first thing in the morning and are met with the happiest little person on the face of the earth. The frustration you feel when she WILL NOT GO TO SLEEP for the love of GOD, and then the almighty sense of accomplishment that comes after sticking it out and seeing that angel lying there in a crib. I wanted her to have all of that.
But that's part of being in the military. You agree to put your life on hold, lay it down if necessary, to do the job. But anything that involves missing birthdays, Christmases, first teeth, and your own child's first year of life is more than just a job.

I don't know if any of you watched the Lifetime series "Coming Home." I only heard about it because most of the filming took place here at Ft Campbell and there was a big write-up in the newspaper about it. Well, I watched it nearly every week, and it was like a scheduled time to cry every Sunday night. It documented soldiers coming home to their families. Some of the stories involved elaborate setups, other just hid behind their car and popped out to surprise their children coming home from school. All of the stories (even though some were cheesy), were a reminder of how much soldiers and their families give up every day for our country. The stories that hit my waterworks the hardest were the soldiers that were coming home to children they'd never met. Babies that were born while they were gone. The looks on their faces and the feelings they must have been having. I can only imagine.

Steve hasn't deployed yet. It sounds like it could be quite some time before he goes over (next year), but I'm aware that it could always been sooner. And I am in no way prepared. My closest friend here is getting ready to say See Ya Later to her husband for a year. Her son is Sam's age and loves his daddy just as much as Sam loves Steve.
It hurts my heart to think about all of the firsts he'll miss while he's away.
It hurts my heart to think about just how much she might miss him.
It hurts my heart that there won't be much I can do to make it hurt any less for her.

(We do plan to see if wine will help the situation, scientific go-getters that we are.)

All of that to say, thank a soldier when you see them. That means a lot. They give up so much to ensure our everyday freedoms and all too often we take them for granted. Also, hug your spouse and your kid. Even though they might not be going anywhere, you never know how much time you have left with them.