Tie a Yellow Ribbon... Round My Neck

I have several friends who welcomed back their husbands from a deployment this week. It made me think of my own experiences with deployment, and how I assumed my feelings about it were unorthodox. That is, until I started to open up about them. Turns out, I'm not such a weirdo (about this, anyway).
　
　
　
Deployment is an inevitability in today's military. At least, it has been for the nine years I've been a part of it. While all branches of the military deploy, for the purposes of this rant, I will only be dealing with real deployments. If your Airman gets sent to Diego Garcia for a four month vacation, this post ain't for you. Not to trivialize the Air Force deployment schedule, but, c'mon. If I sound bitter and jealous, it's because I am. Anyway, I'm talking about year-long tours of scenic Iraq and Afghanistan. I was fully prepared for them to suck, and, they do- but not for the reasons I was expecting.
　
My husband's first deployment was to Afghanistan. We were newly married and living in Germany. In fact, we spent our first anniversary surrounded by boxes, eating a candlelight dinner off of a footlocker filled with kevlar. It was hooah romance at its finest. The next day, we boarded planes headed in opposite directions; he headed East, and I headed West, back to Louisiana. There was the typical silly nonsense- racking sobs, promises to kiss our wedding picture every day, etc.* And I was a mess, too. I loved my life, I loved my marriage, and I remember wondering how I was going to make it an entire year alone. I shouldn't have worried. That deployment did suck, but, for me, the especially sucky part wasn't realizing that I couldn't function without my husband, it was realizing that I could- and that I LIKED it.
　
Once I got used to being alone, which was, admittedly, kind of strange, I started to see the beauty in deployment. I had no responsibilities, tons of disposable income, and no one to discuss my decisions with. It. Was. Awesome. We were able to keep in touch via phone and email, so it wasn't like we never got to communicate. We even had little games. Daniel would tease me by sending cheesy Army Wife sayings like "real love is trading in your pearls for his dog tags", and "I'm the pink in his world of camo", and I would send him pictures of me retching. We're romantical like that. The hardest part, by far, was the first month after his return. He came home, and, suddenly, I was expected to leave friends I loved, and a job I greatly enjoyed, in order to move back to a country that, frankly, wasn't my favorite in the EU. I felt angry and resentful, which, in turn, led to feeling of immense guilt. The life I made myself didn't matter; my soldier was home, and I felt the Army shoe horn prying me out of my Prada wedges, and stuffing me back into combat boots. The Army's main concern (rightfully) is the soldier. I can't tell you how many briefings, pamphlets, and the like I was given on how to ease the soldier's transition back into normal life. This was all great, but I would have been so relieved to hear that redeployment is hard for the family, too. After several weeks of reacclimation, we got our respective grooves back, and I felt better prepared to handle the next deployment. Wrong!
　
Deployment number two differed in a couple of distinct ways; Daniel headed to Iraq, and I had a deployment buddy. K was a four month old blob when her daddy left. He returned to a walking, talking ball of independence. K and I had our own schedule, our own way of doing things. She did not especially enjoy a strange man coming into the picture and bossing her around. To be perfectly honest, I didn't either. It took me a while to accept that he was every bit as much K's parent as I was. If I asked Daniel to help with K, but he didn't do things exactly how I would do it, I would immediately become irritated and take over. Rationally, I knew that his methods were perfectly acceptable, but I've never been accused of being overly rational. You changed her before giving her a bottle? Outside without a hat, really?? Forget Fallujah, Daniel should have been receiving hazardous duty pay at home. Thankfully, at this point in our marriage, Daniel knew how to speak my language. "Kitt, deal with it." That's not a direct quote, but you get the gist- I did, anyway. As before, things settled down, we settled in, and I settled for being second banana. K is nothing if not a daddy's girl.
　
Despite the things I enjoy about deployments- independence, less-than-regular leg shaving, and homecoming ceremonies (it's like having a front row seat for the most delightfully trash-tastic fashion show you've ever seen), I would prefer to keep my husband stateside. Of course, the Army rarely takes my preferences into consideration. If it did, our next move would be to Bali. I bet there's an Air Force base in Bali. Stupid Air Force. I don't know if another deployment is in our future. But I do know to take it as it comes, to expect the unexpected, and to keep the homefires burning- so as to easily burn all those cheesy Army Wife stickers.
　
*This episode may or may not have been amplified (read: fabricated) for comedic effect. To the best of my knowledge, Daniel does not have a wedding picture, and if last season's Longhorns didn't evoke racking sobs, a year-long vacation from me certainly wouldn't.