The last 24 hours are horrible. In what should be a great time together, all you can think about is them leaving, that hurt in you stomach and your heart.
You lay awake that last night, hoping if you don't close your eyes, the night will never end. You can sit there and hold each other forever. You fall asleep only to awake a few hours later grateful it's not over yet.
I lay there, being held by J. Trying to memorize his feel, knowing it would be a long time before I felt his hug again.
Before I was ready for it, it was 7:30 and K was in our room saying 'GOOD MORNING!! Good sleep? It's a bright sunny day.' J got up with her and I got dressed, then brought the baby out to him to feed and hold. It breaks my heart that tomorrow when Kayla gets up, she's going to say 'daddy at work?' and I'll have to explain that yes, he is at work, but that he wont be coming home. She wont understand. As the days roll by I can't even imagine what she's going to think. Her grandma just left her and now her daddy. I doubt she'll be willing to let me out of her sight for a long time.
The first few days are the worst. You try to figure out a routine and get into a pattern. Your family is like a puzzle. If you have a complete puzzle, and then remove a piece, it just doesn't look right. No matter how small the puzzle, no matter how big or small the piece that's removed. Things don't look or feel right.
It's not so much that you're a 'single mom' or a 'single'. That part is the easiest of it all. Being 'alone' is no big deal. You go about your day and things move forward. It's the constant worry over your loved one. The constant fear that they'll get hurt. The horrific feeling every time there's an unexpected knock on the door. Wondering what they're doing, if they're ok, are they eating enough? Are they too hot and tired from not sleeping in days? What will they be like when they come home? What terrible things have they seen? The worry over them is constant and never goes away. There's a permanent pit in your stomach. The days seem to drag on at times, while you wait for your loved one to come home, so you can hold them in your arms once again.
I dread the drive home tonight. It will take an hour to get home. I will be alone. I will put our daughter to bed and then try to get our son settled. Then I'll tuck myself into bed and cry. Wishing that my husband was home for me to hold and to hug one last time. To feel his breath, kiss his lips, anything. Worried about what his future holds for him in a war torn country. Knowing he's over there to keep us safe at night an for our rights. I couldn't be more proud of him.
My small amount of joy in the day: We found out our puppy will be flying in on Sat.!! YAY! At last she will keep us beyond busy for a while.
You lay awake that last night, hoping if you don't close your eyes, the night will never end. You can sit there and hold each other forever. You fall asleep only to awake a few hours later grateful it's not over yet.
I lay there, being held by J. Trying to memorize his feel, knowing it would be a long time before I felt his hug again.
Before I was ready for it, it was 7:30 and K was in our room saying 'GOOD MORNING!! Good sleep? It's a bright sunny day.' J got up with her and I got dressed, then brought the baby out to him to feed and hold. It breaks my heart that tomorrow when Kayla gets up, she's going to say 'daddy at work?' and I'll have to explain that yes, he is at work, but that he wont be coming home. She wont understand. As the days roll by I can't even imagine what she's going to think. Her grandma just left her and now her daddy. I doubt she'll be willing to let me out of her sight for a long time.
The first few days are the worst. You try to figure out a routine and get into a pattern. Your family is like a puzzle. If you have a complete puzzle, and then remove a piece, it just doesn't look right. No matter how small the puzzle, no matter how big or small the piece that's removed. Things don't look or feel right.
It's not so much that you're a 'single mom' or a 'single'. That part is the easiest of it all. Being 'alone' is no big deal. You go about your day and things move forward. It's the constant worry over your loved one. The constant fear that they'll get hurt. The horrific feeling every time there's an unexpected knock on the door. Wondering what they're doing, if they're ok, are they eating enough? Are they too hot and tired from not sleeping in days? What will they be like when they come home? What terrible things have they seen? The worry over them is constant and never goes away. There's a permanent pit in your stomach. The days seem to drag on at times, while you wait for your loved one to come home, so you can hold them in your arms once again.
I dread the drive home tonight. It will take an hour to get home. I will be alone. I will put our daughter to bed and then try to get our son settled. Then I'll tuck myself into bed and cry. Wishing that my husband was home for me to hold and to hug one last time. To feel his breath, kiss his lips, anything. Worried about what his future holds for him in a war torn country. Knowing he's over there to keep us safe at night an for our rights. I couldn't be more proud of him.
My small amount of joy in the day: We found out our puppy will be flying in on Sat.!! YAY! At last she will keep us beyond busy for a while.
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