Crazy Daizy

We went to an FRG meeting last night, actually an FRG deployment briefing. I’ve known since before moving here that Baby K would only be a couple of weeks old when my husband deployed. And, I’m incredibly grateful that his unit is letting him stay behind until she is born. But, on the way home my husband made this comment, “I was scared to death that I was going to see my name on the rear d list.” I looked at him and said “What? You’d rather go to combat than stay here for a year with me, Monkey, and the baby?” To which he replied “I see how you’re looking at it, but I’m looking at it in a whole other way.” So I have to ask “How are you looking at it?” He says “I came here to do a job, not sit around for a year.” I totally took it as a personal attack and stared blankly out the window. “Are you mad?” Tears are welling up in my eyes and all I think is My husband would rather be in a combat zone thousands of miles away from his family than at home with us. What is wrong with him? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with being with us? I managed to squeak out a “No” and I wasn’t mad, I was hurt, even though I know where he was coming from. I don’t think I said but two words to him the rest of the night. Even after he offered to go buy me Pop Tarts at 9:00 because I was hungry and that’s what I was craving. I hardly slept at all. Not just because of the conversation in the car, but every time I closed my eyes I saw myself sitting at the table with the casualty officer. I tossed and turned all night, almost happy that Monkey kept waking up for water or trips to the bathroom. I know that I have to get a grip, not just for me but for Monkey and soon for Baby K. It’s not like I haven’t done the deployment thing before, this time it just seems like it’s so much harder. I am hoping that it’s because I’m pregnant and hormonal and that it will be better once I get used to living here, meet some people, and get involved in things.