A 'normal' birthday

Two different locations, two different timezones, heck, during part of my son's birthday celebration our family was in two different days.  For most, this is an extreme abnormal thing, but for military families - this has become the norm.  The normal birthday, anniversary, first day of school, Christmas.  This list could go on and on.  But that normal birthday has become normal because of those families ability to adapt.

For our little family, separations are nothing new.  My husband and I have been apart more than we have been together in the almost six years we have been married.  In that time, he's been home for one of my birthdays, oh and that one happened to fall on a night there was an Army function.  Such is the life though.

Today hit a little closer to the heart though.  My husband and I are fully capable of still communicating and somewhere celebrating our special occasions when he is gone.  My son, who just turned two, is a little more difficult.  He loves getting to see daddy and we were blessed that he was able to Skype during the early part of his birthday party today.  But as it was time to tell daddy goodbye, I tried to hold back my tears as my little guy told him night, night and blew him kisses.

This was the first of many 'big' events that daddy will be missing over the next months on this go around.  I think it goes back to the old thought process that separations, TDYs, deployments never get any easier - you just learn a different way to live, you take advantage of the moments you have without him because you know he is sacrificing for those moments and each day you are thankful for the blessings you have been given.

Thankful for those that lend a helping hand, those who say a prayer for our troops, those who are your sounding boards when you've had a rough day.  Thankful to those who help you make the most of that 'one day closer'.

Two different types of soldiers

One thing I learned very quickly during my time in uniform is that there is two different types of leaders you will work with.  One there will be an over abundance of and the other will be hard to come by.

The first is those you learn what not to be.  Most often than not, they don't actually know their job and so they try to overcompensate in other ways.  When something goes wrong in their section, they are the first one to try to pass the blame on to someone junior to them in their shop.  These are also the same individuals who consistently ask of their soldiers what they are not willing to do themselves.  They become the most frustrating individuals you will deal with, often times setting a decision in stone among younger soldiers on their decision to separate from the Army.  Even years down the road when looking back on those individuals, a sour taste instantly comes to your mouth.

The other side is those that are your true leaders.  They push you to become a better person, even when you don't always realize when you are working with them.  Sometimes they will give you a bad taste at the time, but when you look back at the big picture, it's easy to see they were simply trying to make you a better soldier.  The lead by example and instead of writing soldiers off, they actually find out what's going on with a soldier.  When there is something to do, they are there next to you helping you do it.

As I look back now, there are individuals whose names still make me cringe.  They were horrible leaders.  On the other side, there is a handful that I can look back on and hope that I made them proud in some way, shape or form during my time in.

On this anniversary

Twelve years ago, so many lives changed.  Those that immediately changed when their loved ones perished at the hands of a horrible individual, those that responded to that tragedy, those that would very soon find themselves on deployment orders and the rest of us that didn't have a direct connection to this situation but ached in our hearts for those that were.  For years, we have looked at that date and can tell you exactly where we were on that day.

I remember where I was on that fateful day.  I worked at a local bank and we didn't have access to TV or radio while at work.  I called another department and the rep on the other end told me I needed to get to a TV.  As soon as I got off the phone, I went on break and walked over to the snack shop.  Right as I walked in and saw the television, the second plane hit.  I had no comprehension of what had just happened.

To be honest, I felt for those involved, but I didn't really know what I could do.  I had my job at the bank, I continued on living like I had been living.  It wasn't until July 2004 that everything become extremely real.  I had become a supervisor in my area and a guy I had gone to school with was now working up in the same area and happened to be on my team.  When I noticed that he was at his desk outside of break time and he had been gone for awhile, I went to double check on him.  I heard him extremely upset out on the emergency stairs.  When I opened the door to check on him, he looked at me with so much pain in his eyes and whispered 'Joe's gone....'  It took me a minute to realize what had happened.  His best friend, the individual who was supposed to be his best man in his wedding in a couple months, a soldier we had both gone to school with, had been Killed in Action.

In that split second, something that had been so distant became very real.

Shortly after that is when I signed on the dotted line.

I served over six anniversaries of that day, two of those were in Iraq.  The most recent anniversary, I proudly stood next to my husband as he raised his right hand and re-enlisted.  Each year, our life has changed a little bit more, this year - my husband is deployed.  Each anniversary, we remember and although neither of our boys will remember that day, they will still know the reason daddy has gone to war, the date that an attack took place on our own soil and the day that America got mad.

I hate needles - Part 2

Part 2 :

In the first few days of reception at Fort Jackson, I found myself in a seemingly never ending line of soldiers moving from table to table with our sleeves pulled up.  Each table was a different shot.  As I was stepping up to receive the first shot, another female soldier who had gone through the first two tables collapsed and had a seizure.  Thankfully, she was okay - but that's not exactly a warm fuzzy especially since the drill sergeants were still pushing us forward through the line.

My next issue with this at basic was shortly after arriving back from Exodus (side note - loved being home for Christmas, but taking a break and letting soldiers go home for the holidays is less than logical).  All the female soldiers had to have blood drawn for a pregnancy test shortly after coming back.  A day prior to this test, I had blood drawn because I was having issues with extremely low iron and they had conducted a pregnancy test at that point in time.  Even though I had told the drill sergeants I had blood drawn less than 24 hours prior and had already 'passed' my pregnancy screening, I was still pushed through the line.

I sat down in the chair and shortly after the medic had started drawing blood, I passed out.  In the process, I almost fell out of the chair and managed to rip the whole setup out of my arm.  So now, not only were they trying to get me to come to, they had a mess that was continuing to grow.  From what I was told, I was out for a few minutes.  Smelling salts, water, none of your common triggers to 'wake' you up were working.  So the medic took extreme measures and slapped me across the face.  I woke up to a stinging sensation across my face and a rather messy arm.  When the medic asked me what happened, I told her about having blood being taken and already having had a pregnancy test.  I then proceeded to get yelled out for not telling her before she stuck me and was stuck in a chair for 'observation' for about an hour.

I hate needles - Part 1

When I first told my mom that I was joining the Army, she gave me that look of complete shock.  Later, in a conversation she mentioned my hate of needles.  Knowing the significant number of shots, etc that are involved with the military, that were what let her know this was something I really wanted to do.

It didn't take long for that hate of needles to come into play.  I didn't even make it through MEPS.  When we first arrived the morning of our in processing, they briefed us on a number of rules - one of which was not falling asleep during the lengthy day.  One of the first stops was to have blood drawn.  I made it through getting my blood drawn (barely), then stopped at the water fountain on the way to my next station.  When I went to pick up my paperwork from the chair, I realized that I had a steady stream of blood running down my arm.

As I walked back to the area for the blood draw, I was leaving a nice trail behind me.  They asked me what I needed and I told them more bandages.  I then showed them my arm.  I was fine standing there until I saw the other individuals getting their blood drawn.  They couldn't catch me before I hit the floor.  This wasn't exactly my ideal start to this day.

When I came to, I heard laughing.  Once I was fully awake, I realized they were laughing at me.  My first thought was 'great, I'm that person'.  Then someone filled me in.  Before I had completely come to, I had asked if I was going to be kicked out. When asked why, I told them because I had fallen asleep.  Shortly after that is when I had fully woken up.  Given it was a Friday morning and they all had a busy week, they were thankful for a lighter moment.

To be continued (this is one of many stories based on my issues with needles)...

Some days it's easy...

Recently, I sat down after having one of the rougher days during this deployment so far.  It was more of a way of just venting at the moment, but it was shared and shared - as of right I've shown, it was shared 29 times on Facebook.  I thought since it had touched a spot with so many that I would share on here as well.  I don't always have the best words to describe how I'm feeling, but this is one night that I guess the words fit. 

Some days it’s easy…
It’s easy to take for granted the other half of your bed being warm when you don’t know how it feels for it be cold for so many nights on end.
It’s easy to take for granted your spouse being at your child’s birthday party when they are there for every one of them.
It’s easy to take for granted that shoulder being there just at the right time when there are so many times tears fall while you are all alone because he’s gone.
It’s easy to take for granted making plans for next weekend when you are so used to him being sent away for weeks at a time with only a day or two notice.
It’s easy to stay connected to your children when you aren’t attempting to do it through a computer screen from half a world away.
It’s easy to forget there are still troops overseas when it isn’t someone you know or love.
It’s easy to go about your day and complain about the simplest things when so many are struggling to just get through to that ‘one day closer’.
It’s easy to explain a parent being gone for a normal day at work when you aren’t explaining to a toddler that when he says goodbye to hug tight because he isn’t going to see daddy for a long while.
It’s easy to get irritated when you call your spouse and they don’t answer when you don’t know what it’s like to not be able to just pick up the phone and hear their voice.
It’s easy to say we chose this life when you have never walked a day in our shoes. Or understand that our soldiers sacrifice a warm bed, everyday life, and milestones in our children’s life so that the general population can have those every day moments with their families.

To breastfeed or not to breastfeed

We are currently in world breastfeeding week.  To an extent, I dread it.  It's not that I have an issue with nursing your child, because it's actually quite the opposite.  It's more of seeing the pictures pop up of women nursing their children brings up bad feelings. 

I nursed my oldest until he was a little over six months old and the first few times I gave him formula, I cried.  I felt like I was failing him, I felt guilty because the reason for transitioning him was because of me, not him.  The wear and tear a perfectly healthy body takes during a pregnancy, delivery and within that first year after a child is delivered is painful and exhausting.  Then if you factor in a pre-existing back injury and severe issues with migraines and vision loss, you have a bad equation.

Both of my boys were worth every last minute of that pain, but that doesn't negate that I'm constantly in pain.  By the time my oldest was six months old, the back pain and migraines had elevated so severely that I was having regular blackout spells and issues functioning on daily tasks.  After seeing the required specialists, they gave me an option - either I continued nursing my son and that was pretty much all I was going to be able to do for him OR I started taking the necessary pain medicine to control the pain to where I could be part of everything else in his life. 

I still continued trying to a while and the issues continued to get worse, then finally that day came that I popped open that container and mixed the powder and water together.  As I sat there rocking him and watching his suck on the bottle, tears started to flow.  I felt like I shouldn't be so selfish, like I should try to just deal with the pain to give him that little boost.  After a long round discussion with my husband and a lot of tears, we finally decided that this was the best route to go.  So I started the pain meds and the pain started subsiding, but each time I filled up that bottle, those feelings resurfaced and I struggled with not putting the meds back up in the cabinet and leaving them there.

When my oldest was just under 18 months old, my youngest was born.  Once again with a lot of stubbornness and determination, I decided I was going to breastfeed him until he was at least as old as my oldest had been when I had stopped nursing. 

Then life kicked in.  My back was in much worse shape then it had been after my first pregnancy, I had barely pushed through the pregnancy itself and now was struggling through daily tasks again.  Then before he was in a week old, mastitis kicked in and I was sitting in the ER in so much pain.  My little guy wasn't getting enough milk while the infection cleared up and formula came into play.  After that had cleared up, we battled two rounds of thrush.

Each hurdle caused decreases in milk production.  Every day, the pain increased and I came back to the same decision I was faced with for my oldest.  After a lot of talking with my husband, he gave me the support I needed to come to terms with a decision I was having trouble making, once again.  Now I have an almost two year old and a five month old, one started on formula at six months, one was just a little over a week old before it was introduced. 

As I look back, I still get emotional about going the route I went, but I know that I have been able to be more a part of their lives than I would have if I had gone the other route.  I still know that breast is best, but sometimes another route is taken for very valid reasons that may not be known to every person that sees them pouring that powder for their child.  It was hard enough for me to deal with the decision and the route I took, without constantly feeling like there is judgement from others.

I guess the reason I'm sharing all of this is because I support those that are able to breastfeed, but please don't think less of me as a mother because I've shifted to the formula route, because for us it was the best route.