I sat down to write about the hellish move C and I have not completed yet. I sat down to talk about how the movers didn't show up to pack the first time, about how they packed on Christmas Eve instead, about how the day they were supposed to start we were notified by our next duty station that we would not be moving directly into our new house and that our items would have to be placed in storage. I was going to talk about how that meant I would be moving into a house, again, alone.
I sat down to write about how everything went wrong the day we finally left Fort Carson, how long it took us to get to the bajillion different places we needed to get to. How we had to pull over on the side of the interstate at night because the trailer carrying the jeep started to disconnect, or how we ended up dropping the trailer off half way to our destination because it was more of a hell than a help.
I sat down to write about getting sick in a way that I can't remember getting sick before just two days before C had to leave for DC. I was going to write about how I couldn't get out of bed and I had two kiddos in a not-so-awesome Army hotel with a husband who left on a plane for two months away. I was going to write about having to take Eli to the ER because he too got the flu and how hard it was to drive there and how it took nearly 5 hours when it was all said and done.
I was going to write about all of it. In detail. And I didn't even include it all up there.
We still don't have a house.
When I sat down to write one word kept going again and again through my head and it just won't go away.
There were a few days that I was at my lowest - that were really, really hard. I was alone in a place with no support system, no ability to go anywhere, sick beyond sick, unable to move, with two kiddos. And it was hard.
When C left for the airport, there wasn't anger or frustration that he had to go. I didn't ask him to find a way to stay back because this is just the way it goes sometimes. This is just the way it is. There will always be times - and sometimes the worst times - that they must go when we really need them to stay.
C went to work hours after Logan was born. He was at work for much of the time that I was in labor. He had to leave while Eli was in the NICU to head back to Fort Benning. He has left me with Logan in Children's Hospital because the Army doesn't wait. I am so very grateful for the ability to accept that it isn't up to me. I am so very grateful that I know that him leaving in no way - in no way - means that he loves me any less, that he loves these kiddos any less. I am thankful that we have a partnership and understanding of what this life takes, of what it demands, and that we know what that means to our marriage.
I am grateful that him leaving doesn't make me question what his intentions are. I am thankful that I learned early on that acceptance doesn't make you weak. That not fighting that which you cannot change saves strength.
I am grateful that sharing this journey has provided better understanding. I am grateful that for the dozens of civilian friends and acquaintances who have talked to me in the last week, not-a-one has raised a question about C still needing to leave. Not-a-one has questioned his dedication this family. Not one has asked, "Are you okay with that?" or "He couldn't stay?!" Each one has been understanding and empathetic and careful in their wording. I noticed the change.
I am grateful that so many have taken the time to listen and learn and understand.
The hardest times show us our strength. They teach us how much we can do with faith and grace. The ability to not be angry, to not be resentful, to accept what we cannot change, is to be sought after and worked towards and held dear.
I know my C loves me. I know he loves his children. I know that this job will take him when it is the least convenient for him go. I can't change it. I won't fight it. There is so much more worth fighting for.
Whatever the battle, whatever the struggle, you can make it through. You can survive this. You can thrive.