Happy Mother’s Day everyone. Today is one of those days I want to sleep through, because if I don’t I’m liable to spend an inordinate amount of it crying.
But I have to say there are some great moms out there, but I’ve got one of the best. Not only did she take my two heathen kids for us for a year, but she’s doing a damn fine job raising them (trust me, my oldest could piss off the Pope). I’m able to be here in Iraq and do my job because my mom is taking care of business back home.
Thanks, Mom, for being a great mom and an even better Grammy! I love you.
An Odd Thing Happened
May 13, 2010
SEVEN YEARS AGO NEXT month, I was burying my face in my hands and leaning on my mothers’ shoulder. The words “I can’t do this alone” broke from my blocked throat.
I was pregnant and facing the daunting challenge of being alone a few months after my husband and I returned to Fort Hood. The weight of that pregnancy took my husband and I through a staggering roller coaster. The war had just started. We were going to the Cav, which was the next unit out the door to Iraq.
And I was going to be alone when the baby came.
My mom wrapped her arms around my shoulders and let me cry. I admit it, I was panicking, but this was so monumental and so utterly overwhelming, I didn’t have a way to attack the problem.
Eventually, my husband and I accepted we were going to be parents. I wrapped my brain around it and we started to actually smile when we thought about the little peanut in my belly.
Then I started to bleed.
I remember the day we were told the baby wasn’t going to make it. My pregnancy was over but it would be another two months before I was no longer pregnant.
That miscarriage dropped me to my knees. I should have been relieved. We hadn’t wanted that pregnancy—it was an accident. My birth control got screwed up on the flight from Korea to the States.
But it ripped my heart out because we’d gotten to where we wanted it. And then, just like that, for no apparent reason, it was gone.
I lost a second pregnancy that year before finally conceiving our first daughter. Both of them were challenging losses, ones I didn’t understand and one question kept riding me.
Why?
Why did I have to go through that?
It’s been seven years since I cried those words to my mom but today, I know why I had to go through that.
A young private came into my office today. This was after I’d given her hell about her hair being out of regulation. But she knocked on my door and sat down and started asking me about healthy things to eat while she was pregnant. Before I knew it, she’d buried her face in her hands and whispered those exact words: “I can’t do this alone.”
Her husband is getting ready to deploy and she’s got to face the enormity of going through having a baby by herself.
It was easy for me to get up and put my arms around that soldier today. That’s what she needed and it’s what I knew how to give. We talked for a while and I didn’t tell her that this was easy.
Being a military mom is never easy, but the hard part hasn’t even started yet.
She wants to make a better life for herself and her child. She has some hard choices to make and we talked about some of them today. I don’t know if I made her feel better or worse but I was as honest as I could be with her about how hard it is to be on your own, waiting for the phone to ring from Iraq. I was honest with her about leaving the kids and the incredibly hard time it’s been coming home.
But at the end of it, she looked at me and said “Thanks, ma’am, for listening” with a smile.
It was the second time today that one of our soldiers came to me, just to talk. It was the second time today someone came to talk to me about losing a baby or having a baby. Because the first person was an NCO, who was knocked flat by his wife’s miscarriage earlier this week. So we talked about it. About how he was angry and his wife was hurting. About how he’d never been in a unit where the chain of command truly, truly cared about the families.
And at the end of it, he looked at me and smiled, and said “Thanks, ma’am, for listening.”
The odd part for me was that these soldiers felt comfortable in coming to talk to me. The guys we were downrange with all know me and all feel at ease around me but I have enough self-awareness to know that a lot of the new folks don’t know how to take me. I’ve been going a hundred miles an hour since we got back, so the days of sitting around shooting the breeze downrange are long gone.
But these two came to me and just needed to talk. I’m kind of amazed. But the thing that hit me today was that had I not gone through those two miscarriages, I might not have known what to say, or how to react. But because of those experiences, today I was able to understand. Today, apparently, I was the shoulder these two kids needed to lean on.
I never know why I’ve gone through a situation but I’ve always tried to accept that where I am is where I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to be learning something from what I’m doing.
I hope that today, I was able to make a difference because of the loss I’d gone through. I probably won’t ever know.
But I can hope.
First Week as the First Sergeant’s Wife
May 22, 2010
WELL, IT’S BEEN A week and I’ve got to say, I’m friggin’ exhausted. It’s easy to forget just how exhausting it is to do everything yourself and with him being in charge of a new company, to be honest, he’s wiped out, too. It’s a completely new battle rhythm where we’re both up at 0450, him getting dressed and shaving, me making him coffee and packing him a lunch, then going out to the garage to work out myself ( a good book helps with this motivation).
The kids have barely noticed, which is good. He’s still home at a reasonable hour, but that’s 1900 (7pm for you civilians) and by then, the kids are getting ready for bed. So they’re up later but they’re a little older now, so it’s not so bad. Keeping the house clean is moderately easy, or it would be if we didn’t have the new jerk dog that piddles everywhere and an eight year old cat who decides that peeing where I sleep is appropriate revenge for the new kitteh member of the family.
I’ve washed the entire bed (sheets, comforter, and the foam pads beneath) six times since Sunday of last week, so needless to say, Momma’s not happy. At least my washer can handle the king-sized comforter.
All in all, my husband loves his new job as the First Sergeant. He tells me about the funny stuff his soldiers do. Right now, we’re both in jobs that are arguably the best in the Army. Working in a line company, around junior soldiers and making the mission happen. It’s more work than being on staff because there’s always personal problems to handle but that’s what we do. When a soldier knows a leader truly cares, they’ll do anything for you and the team.
This week was an off one for me because of the new battle rhythm. I have the best commander on the planet. He’s given me trust to do what’s right and he’s given me the most important thing I need: time. There are some days when I feel like I’m sitting at the bottom of a well, wondering how on earth I’m going to climb out and get after the mission. This whole week felt like that so it’s been a struggle.
But the thing I’ve learned is that right now, my husband has the more important job. He’s a first sergeant. He’s “Top” in his unit and his soldiers are counting on him. My job is winding down as I begin my transition to a new job and my replacement is coming on board. So it’s important that I take on the mother lode so that he can focus on getting his boys ready to go again. Because they will go again. Of that, I have no doubt.
It’s hard because he’s tired when he gets home at night. We talk for a few minutes but within an hour of getting in, he’s usually asleep. I’m not far behind him.
All in all, we’re getting there, just like we always do, together. I can honestly say I miss my husband because we don’t talk during the day now very much. He’s too busy. So we try to catch up on the phone on the way to work in the mor
ning or on his drive home. Just another way we try to keep in touch even though we’re on the same base and coming home to each other every night.
It’s going to be a long two years but we’ll get through it. It’s what we do. It’s what we’ll give to the Army because it’s what we are. We’re both soldiers.
It’s as simple and as complicated as that.
My Nonfiction Book is Dead
May 24, 2010
WELL, I RECEIVED THE long-anticipated ethics review and the short version is my book is dead if I want to get paid for it.
I can write it for free all day long but so long as I’m active duty, I cannot receive a single dime for it.
So that kills that small dream. I honestly thought I’d written a proposal that met the requirements. Why else would I have gone out with it? I mean, crap, yeah, let’s write a book proposal that has no hope in hell of selling and waste a whole bunch of people’s time.
Um, no.
I’m pretty disappointed right now. Yep, I’ve even shed a tear or two. It’s not that I can’t write the book. But how can I justify spending time on a project that is going to take as much time as this? And there will be costs associated with writing it. Remember, I’d have to use all publicly available information, which means if I wanted in to Lexus Nexus, I’d have to pay for it and I couldn’t honestly claim it was an investment because I would go into it knowing there was no possibility of getting any money back.
Yes, this is about the money. Yes, I’ve spent the last four years working on becoming a writer because someday, I’d like to get out of the Army and write full-time. That involves a paycheck but the long-term goal is not something for me to just throw aside for the short-term gain.
Apparently, my little dream of writing a few books while I was on active duty and building my reader base was nothing more than a fantasy. The lawyer said I can write a memoir or fiction, so there’s hope for that, but it means essentially scrapping the current project as it stands.
So I’ve got some choices to make, but I’m not doing that right now while I’m still reeling from the news. I’m not going to buck up against the Army because this is my career we’re talking about and as much as I’m looking forward at my life beyond the Army, that day is still far down the road.
Right now, all I can say is...shit, this sucks.
This is What a Dead Dream Feels Like
May 24, 2010
YOU KNOW, TODAY WAS one of those days where not only do you get kicked, but when you try to find the bright spot in the silver lining, you get hit by lightning. Not only did my book proposal get shot down as written, precluding me from writing the book for any type of compensation, but I also found out that my long term goal of teaching at West Point was also almost completely unrealistic because my Master’s Degree is essentially worthless.
Good times.
This is the day when every decision I’ve made, thinking it was a good step in the right direction, has turned out to lead me straight to nowhere.
And you know, I’m honestly having a hard time finding a bright lining here. I’m hoping that tomorrow, I’ll wake up and have a new drive, a new focus, a new sense of purpose, but sitting here tonight, reading the ethics review and the email that crushes any hope of being a professor at any decent school pretty much shoots that whole thing down.
Right now, I’m stuck. Stuck at the bottom of the well, looking around for a foothold that will help get me out of it. I want to write so badly and yet, everywhere I turn, I find I can’t do it. Either the book wasn’t ready (my fault, needed to learn more), or the book violates ethics rules (good book, can’t sell it, also my fault for not seeing it out there).
My puppy has been kicked pretty hard today. It’s sitting in the corner whimpering because I really, honestly, don’t see a way forward right now.
And that’s pretty tough for a person who can always find a way forward.
A good night’s sleep will help, I’m sure. At least, I hope.
The Day After A Significant Emotional Event
May 25, 2010
LIFE LESSONS, THE KIND that make you reevaluate where you stand and what you’re heading for are never easy. They don’t come with hearts and flowers and gently suggest you try something else.
They are what we call in the Army (and possibly in the civilian world) significant emotional events.
Yesterday was one of those for me. I was reeling, not just from the inability to sell my book but also finding out my master’s degree was junk. So everything I’d done toward two particular goals was basically shot down yesterday.
There’s a lesson to be learned here. I’m not exactly sure what it is yet, but there certainly has to be a reason that several doors slammed shut in my face.
I’m a firm believer in the idea that, wherever it is that I find myself, I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.
So, for whatever reason, I wasn’t meant to sell this book. I wasn’t meant to use my MS for what I’d hoped.
Another path will open. I just have to figure out what it is when it presents itself to me. Wallowing in self-pity (as evidenced by yesterday’s double blog posts and subsequent pathetic tweets) is healthy but only for a minute.
Then it’s time to pick up, dust yourself off, pull up your boots, and get back after it. Not sure what “it” is at the moment, but something will come of it. I booked a room at the Dolphin for July, in case our plans involve us being able to go to RWA Nationals this year. I’m going to drive on with my fiction book Resurrection because I’m about halfway through revisions (major rewrites if we’re being honest), but I think it might be halfway to decent (we’ve gone this route before).
And I’ll take another look at the nonfiction proposal and see if I can’t make changes to the plan and get the book out there in a different form. No major life-altering decisions, even today when I’ve slept on it and life looks a little better.
But at the very least, I’ve dusted myself off, laced up my boots, and gotten back after it.
Getting Ready to Say Goodbye
May 26, 2010
FOR THOSE OF YOU who have been following my blog, you know I’m getting ready to head back to Fort Gordon for the captain’s career course.
I’m not thrilled with the plan because it means uprooting my family but at least we’ll only be in Georgia instead of, well, Iraq. And it’s only for a few months before we reunite the family under one roof again.
Of course, Iraq looms again shortly after we get home, but we’ll deal with that. We’ve done it before, we’ll do it again.
Anyway, I’ve already begun my transition with my replacement. First, let me tell you, in my heart of hearts, I feel like I’ve made a true difference in the way this unit works and operates, and I worry about my replacement stepping in.
He’s going to do just fine.
But I worry, you know?
I like feeling like I’ve made a difference. I like being needed and I like being trusted. There’s trust between my commander, my first sergeant, and me. I haven’t had that—not like this—since becoming an officer and it’s meant the world to me in the last few months. The three of us have been a great team and I am really, honestly and truly, going to miss working with those two guys. I never had to bite my tongue and they didn’t either. And it worked.
But more than those two, I’m going to miss my old soldiers. The guys I was downrange with will be burned in my memory forever. My daughters run around saying “I am a robot” and I wonder why my kids sound like one of my NCOs. These guys are a really great group of soldiers and the Black Knight family is just that: a family. We’ve got good soldiers all working toward the good of the brigade.
The team I’m leaving behind will succeed because they understand how critical they are to the success of the brigade. And they truly care about getting better every day.
My life in the Greywolf brigade has not been easy. I’ve had many days where I’ve screamed in frustration and anger. But the single best compl
iment I’ve received is being told that I was one of the few officers who were truly passionate about what I was doing. That to me is the one of the few things someone could have said about me that means a lot. Especially considering the speaker: someone I admire and respect tremendously.
I’ve had an incredible support from the senior leaders in my brigade. The two XOs, a couple of hard ass captains in the S3, the DCO, and the Brigade Commander, all took a smart-ass, know-it-all lieutenant and proceeded to step on my neck while I learned what it meant to be an officer in a brigade combat team.
I am a better officer for having had these men and women as mentors. I’ve learned to argue for what’s important and how to compromise when I knew I couldn’t win. I learned hard lessons about firing people and what happens when you don’t cut sling load. I also relearned that it’s about having the right people in the job, regardless of rank.
As I move on to my next assignment, I will try to go in with a dose of humility. As a great lady recently told me, I am still a young officer, regardless of my time in service. I still have a ton to learn about being an officer.
I am willing to learn but as always, I have to learn from people I respect and admire. That may be a critical weakness on my part, but it is one I’m at least aware of.
I am honestly saddened at the thought of leaving this unit. Unlike other units where, when it was time to go, it was really time to go and I didn’t look back with nostalgia until much later. I’m already looking back on this fondly. I’m glad I’ve got the blog to remind me of some of the challenges.
I’m not gone yet. I’ve still got to make my transition as seamless as possible so that one day, they look around and realize I’m gone and they don’t even miss me. For while it would be nice to be missed, if I am to have any true, lasting impact, I need to make sure when I leave, the transition is smooth and easy.
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