5 years ago

Five years ago today, I found myself back American soil after being deployed for 15 months.  It was my first experience in a combat zone and during that extended time frame I was there, my perspective on things changed.

I joined the Army in November 2004 - well after 9/11 and well into knowing that joining meant deploying.  Yet as I stood in the gym on Fort Hood in October 2006, I was scared.  Those in our unit that had deployed before had told us their experience and given a rough idea of what to expect, but no two stories are the same, no two experiences are the same.  I was walking onto the bus blindly after having made one last call to my family and prepared for what was coming. 

The first step off the plane was a quick entry to reality, with my M16 slung across my back I hit the wall of heat and sand that is Kuwait.  We were here, there was no turning back.  After a few short weeks in Kuwait and a lot of training, we once again loaded a plane that would take us into Iraq.

Over the next 15 months, I would gain a whole new perspective - on myself, on those I worked with, on the true sacrifice that comes with war.  I reenlisted a few months into the deployment, lost my grandfather less than a month later and then shortly after that my dream of flying came true. 

I started progression on a door gunner - the only female door gunner in our brigade.  My days were spent with learning the ins and outs of what made blackhawks fly, doing basic maintenance and learning how to shoot a machine gun while in flight. 

During my last progression flight, the sacrifices that are laid down by our service members became more real than it had ever been.  We had an add on mission - a Hero Mission.  As we were going into land at FOB Washington, the FI (Flight Instructor) I was flying with briefed me on what our role was.  After landing, we each got out of the aircraft and took up our respective places and waited for the individuals from the hospital to bring the soldier who had been killed in action out to the aircraft.  As soon as they made their way into site, I was overcome with emotion.  They were carrying a stretcher draped with a flag.  As they passed under the rotors, we all saluted as we began this soldiers final trip home.  This was the first of multiple Hero Missions I would have the honor of being a part of throughout the rest of the deployment. 

A few months later my cousin, who was deployed the same time frame I was, would hit yet another IED and find himself MEDEVACd yet again.  My unit allowed a few visits when time allowed for us to coordinate flights for me to visit him or him to visit me.  We had ran into each other in Kuwait, the first time I saw him after that was eight months later.  Being an infantry soldier - he had spent his time in a turret on convoys.  That short time frame had changed him, but we were able to have a good visit, then he showed me the humvee he had been in during his most recent IED encounter.  That was another moment of emotions that I can't describe.  Shortly after returning from deployment, the MEB process was started for him, which ended with a medical separation. 

Another few months had passed and I found myself with a simple injury while out on a mission that would progressively get worse through the rest of the deployment and after another deployment would eventually result in my own medical retirement.

In the last months of deployment, a lot of things would change for me.  The soldier of the month board became something I excelled at and would continue finding myself as a board soldier for the remainder of my short career.  I met another soldier who I flew on missions with that just six weeks after we returned from deployment would become my husband. 

As I marched across that parade field that afternoon, I spotted my family and everything started sinking in.  During the deployment, carrying a gun - whether a 9mm pistol, M4 or M16 rifle or a 240 machine guns were a daily thing, getting shot at and the sound of mortars coming in became something you were used it, those that had been acquaintances had become like family, some of those that had I been close to became distant memories and at times those family members became a much needed lifeline. 

Looking back today, I'm thankful for that time.  Even though it meant a lost of missed holidays and celebrations, it also made me a different person and changed the course of my life for the better.

First and Last

My husband and I have been married for almost five years... about half of that one or the other of us has been somewhere other than 'home'.  So I've become accustomed to an empty bed. 

There are still rough nights - nights that sleep just doesn't seem to come no matter how hard you try.  From my experience, the first and the last night are always the worst.

That first night, you are getting used to the lack of someone else in the bed with you.  The comfort that comes with bumping into someone else in your sleep or having someone steal your covers throughout the night.  The second night starts the progression of things getting a little better until you get used to it a little more.

The last night is normally sleepless for me as well.  It doesn't seem to matter how long they are gone, they is always a 'to do' list before they get home, running through what you might be doing for dinner that night or even worrying about what you are going to wear.  Either way, instead of counting sheep - you are counting all the items you haven't yet done. 

There is, of course, the first night they are home as well.  The time where you can no longer sprawl out on the bed and burrito yourself in the covers.  That time where you have someone to cuddle up next to instead of wrapping your arms around his pillow that his smell has faded from over the time he was gone. Either way - all that matters at that point is he's home and once again your bed and your life is whole again.

A new year

I think this is the time of year that everyone tries to come up with a resolution - something attainable, but something that we can be proud of for keeping up with.  I'm no different. 

In the last year, I had started working again after a little over a year off between my medical retirement and having a baby.  My photography business also took off.  The combination of the two kept me extremely busy and left little time for doing things I enjoyed and spending quality time with my family. 

After finding out we were expecting our second child, my back started bothering me so badly that I had to quit my job, but I had stuck with doing my photography.  As I became more and more busy every month, I was giddy.  Making something I loved into a business was a dream come true, but then a few weeks ago I had a dose of reality.

Although I love doing my photography, just like anything else you make into a business - it becomes work and the more you push yourself to accommodate everyone, the less time you have for yourself and the things in life that are truly important.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not giving up my business - I'm just slowing down a little. 

In the last two weeks, I have focused time on my family as my husband had just returned from one TDY and then today he left again.  This is going to be a harsh reality of our 2013, as there are many temporary duties on the calendar already which has the end result of a deployment that's coming up much too soon. 

As I look back at the last two weeks, we have had a chance to regroup, to spend much needed time together and opportunities to laugh and just have fun.  There really haven't been any schedules or requirements to be anywhere at a certain time.  It's just been us.  So for the coming year, that's what my schedule is going to look more like.  More time to play with my son, more time to cuddle with my husband (when he's here) and more time to just simply enjoy the moment. 

Pulling at the heart

Sometimes I guess you just don't realize how much things affect kids, especially when they are really young.  My son is 14 months old and in his little life, daddy has had to be gone multiple times due to being a soldier. 

The first time I realized he really noticed was when he was about six months old.  Daddy was gone for about a month to assist with a training rotation.  As I picked my son up out of his crib one day, he noticed a picture of daddy on the wall and started pointing at it and saying 'dada', 'dada'. 

He's been gone for shorter periods of time since then, but earlier this week because of an issue with another soldier my husband was put on a mission last minute.  He came home and told us he was leaving the next day for about three weeks.  As my husband was working on packing, it was like our son was trying to 'help' by unpacking what was already packed. 

The heartbreaking part for me came the next morning.  Since my husband had to leave so early, our son was still sleeping.  He went in and told him he would see him soon and he loved him.  A few hours later as I knew their take off time was approaching, I started listening for aircraft since I knew they would have to fly our direction to head to their destination.  When I started to hear them, I grabbed our son and ran to the back door to keep an eye out.  As the aircraft started to come into view, we stepped on the to the back deck so I could point them out.  It only took my son a second to get his eye on the aircraft and start pointing and yelling daddy.  I told him to tell daddy bye bye and as I was watching him wave and say bye bye daddy, the big reality of everything sunk in - based on other training he has scheduled and a pending deployment we would be saying bye bye daddy so many more times in the next year or so.  Each time, he is going to become more and more aware of what that means - although based on what he did after the aircraft were out of sight and we went back inside - he has an understanding now.  I sat him down and for more than 15 minutes he sat right there at the back door pointing towards the direction that daddy had gone saying bye bye daddy. 

A little laugh...

This is probably going to be more comical for those who know me, but I thought it might at least bring a laugh to someone.

Earlier this week, shortly after my son laid down for his nap, I went in to take a shower.  All of a sudden I started hearing what sounded like a banging noise, almost like someone was trying to break in our house.  Given that there have been a few day time break ins in the area, I wasn't going to take any chances.  I jumped out of the shower and grabbed my robe, my husband's AR-15 and some ammo.  By this point in time adrenaline is running and thoughts aren't exactly the most clear.

As I'm slowly creeping into the living room, I realize that the noises I were hearing weren't the sound of someone breaking in, but it was the artillery being shot from post.  Since we live a ways out, we don't normally hear it, so it wasn't something I really thought about when I first heard the noise.

I headed back to the bedroom, cleared the weapon and got back in the shower.  I was thinking though... you know that would be a crappy way to go - the last thing you see is a pregnant woman in a robe with an AR. 

God works in mysterious ways

There are some days that just remind you of how true the phrase 'God works in mysterious ways' really is.  Today is the three year anniversary of the shooting at Fort Hood. 

Shortly after hearing about the shooting, my first thought went to a soldier of mine who was in Afghanistan.  His dad was a senior ranking officer at Fort Hood at the time and did most of the coordinating for events such as where the shooting had taken place.  At the time, no information had been released as far as names of casualties or the specifics as far as what had taken place.  I tried contacting his family to confirm everything was okay and see if there was anything they needed from me as far as getting in touch with their soldier (at the time I had just shifted from downrange to the Rear D). 

It took over a day to finally reach one of the family members that told me that their dad was safe.  That he hadn't been there when the shooting happened, but had been a first responder.  There was only one reason he hadn't been there... the soldier forward who always waited until he knew his dad would be off work to call him, hadn't waited that late that day.  There wasn't any particular reason he didn't something off schedule that day, just thought he would give his dad a call.

That call made all the difference.  Since he was on the phone with his son, he had been a few minutes late getting to the building.  His dad then became a first responder trying to help those who were wounded. 

In the weeks that followed, names were released and more information was posted about this individual who had turned a gun on those in the same uniform he wore.  No amount of explanation can ever make me understand that thought process - but I continue to remember those lost that day and the reminder that God has a plan that we may not always understand.

The not always visible

A little bit ago I saw a post by a fellow female veteran that really bothered me.  She is now a military spouse and happens to be pregnant.  For those who aren't familiar - most commissaries have early bird shopping available for the disabled.  Given that she is a disabled veteran, she took advantage of that time, but it wasn't a good experience. She received dirty looks like she didn't belong there at that time. 

I happen to belong to the same group she does... someone who is a disabled veteran because of a back injury that is a direct result of service to our country.  For me, this is already a sore subject because I feel like the 'invisible wounds' aren't acknowledged as much as they should be.  Yes, I still have all my limbs, no, I don't have any shrapnel scars - but I'm constantly in pain because of a back injury that can't be fixed.  Most days if you saw me walking down the street, you wouldn't look at me and think I was a veteran and you wouldn't think I was disabled.  I'm proud like that...  I walk with my head held high because I'm proud of my time in service.  I'm proud to be part of less then the 1% that have worn the uniform.  I'm proud of my tours to Iraq, and knowing that even though when people hear I was a soldier and happen to be a female - that I didn't fall in the typical role they tend to associate female soldiers with. 

I guess my point is that you can't always judge a book by their cover.  Don't look at me and assume because I'm a spouse that I really don't understand the military - I wore the uniform and happened to have been the same MOS as my husband, I understand more about the military than you will ever know.  Don't look at me and assume that because I'm a female veteran that I spent all my military time in an office - I manned a machine gun in the back of a Blackhawk helicopter my first deployment and I was a MEDEVAC crew chief my second deployment.  Don't look at me and assume that just because I don't look like there is anything wrong with me that there isn't - I suffer daily from constant back pain, post concussive disorder (TBI), and PTSD. 

Bottom line - if you don't know, don't assume...