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Due Date

Today is when our baby was due.

Today is when we would’ve met our child and become parents.

It’s hard writing those words, but even harder thinking about what they actually mean. We never knew if our baby was a boy or a girl, though we’re convinced our little one was a tiny princess. We named her, though only we know her name. I try to look at our faces all the time and imagine what she would’ve looked like. There is an emptiness in my heart knowing our family isn’t complete, that there’s someone missing.

I posed a question to people a while ago. I asked if they would consider someone a mother if their child never made it into their arms, and as would you expect, the answers were divided. I’m half in the park that “I am a mother,” and half in the “I’m not” as well. Without having her here in my arms, I feel like I don’t deserve the title of ‘mother,’ but I can’t deny she was here, even if only for a short time.

Her initials are CG, and I wish I could tell you her name, but somehow it doesn’t feel right. I’m tired of her being our secret though, and I want the world to know I should have a daughter here. I’m angry, frustrated, and hurt. I want people to know about her, I want others to miss her, I want others to care.

Today, I should be a mother, holding our little angel, breathing her in and going over all of her little features with the awe only a new mother can have.

Today is a lot harder than I thought it would be.

Where Do I Go?

Fourteen years ago, I was a carefree college student.  I was content with life, was climbing the proverbial ladder as if there were no obstacles in my way, but I longed to be in a relationship.  I spent much of my time kissing frogs and drinking far more than my share of tequila. Six months later, I found you.

I should have seen the warning signs early on in the relationship, but I forged ahead. Six months turned into a year. One year turned into five.  And by our seventh year together, we had a child, a mortgage and a blended family of sorts. A yours & ours. I was happy, the kids were happy.  You were not, and you had an affair.

Again, I should have seen the signs. We argued, I fought for the relationship, you blamed me for the affair. We worked through “our” issues, I thought.

We added a child, lost family members, added a house and then the ugly monster reared it’s head. You were not happy again. And again it was my fault. There was no affair –  just a threat of suicide.  I talked you out of it. I thought we worked through “our” issues and we forged ahead.

Eight months later, you were unhappy again, you were suicidal again.

And again you felt it was my fault.

You came home because you had no where else to go, but you tricked me into thinking that you wanted to be here.  You insisted you wanted a “normal family”. But when push came to shove, you finally admitted that you really never wanted to come home, never wanted to be with me,  you just had no where else to go, no job, and no family.

So you have decided that you are done with me, you don’t want to have the “stress” of owning a house (or two).  You say you want nothing, but refuse to leave until your “name is off the house”.  You say you need no one, and that you can do it all on your own.  Yet we all know you are wrong.  You know you are wrong.

Your anger and your blame has nothing to do with me.  It has to do with whatever it is that you are hiding from.  You need to find help, we need you to find help.

Help doesn’t mean you have to stay with me and your family.  Help means fixing you, and whatever it is that is making you unhappy.  Because fixing you is fixing our children.  Because when you are broken, it breaks them.

You deciding that we are not going to be “us” anymore is probably the best decision you have made for all of us.  Because I can no longer take the blame for your shortcomings and insecurities.  I have my own, and I need to be the best example I can be for our children. I know I am not strong enough to leave you on my own and I still want to “fix” you/us.

So while you waver in the wind and deny you need help, I’m going to get help for myself, my children and my own well being.  I will seek out legal advise and I will seek out counseling for me and for our children. I will find my way from here.

But, I hope someday you will realize how much you are loved, how much you have hurt us and how badly you need to be fixed.  I hope that you make the choice of life and that you realize your kids need you, not a “replacement daddy”, as you like to say.  I hope you that you make the choice to fix you, so that they too can be fixed.

Where Do I Go After Divorce?

Fourteen years ago, I was a carefree college student.  I was content with life, was climbing the proverbial ladder as if there were no obstacles in my way, but I longed to be in a relationship.  I spent much of my time kissing frogs and drinking far more than my share of tequila. Six months later, I found you.

I should have seen the warning signs early on in the relationship, but I forged ahead. Six months turned into a year. One year turned into five.  And by our seventh year together, we had a child, a mortgage and a blended family of sorts. A yours & ours. I was happy, the kids were happy.  You were not, and you had an affair.

Again, I should have seen the signs. We argued, I fought for the relationship, you blamed me for the affair. We worked through “our” issues, I thought.

We added a child, lost family members, added a house and then the ugly monster reared it’s head. You were not happy again. And again it was my fault. There was no affair –  just a threat of suicide.  I talked you out of it. I thought we worked through “our” issues and we forged ahead.

Eight months later, you were unhappy again, you were suicidal again.  And again you felt it was my fault.

You came home because you had no where else to go, but you tricked me into thinking that you wanted to be here.  You insisted you wanted a “normal family”. But when push came to shove, you finally admitted that you really never wanted to come home, never wanted to be with me,  you just had no where else to go, no job and no family.

So you have decided that you are done with me, you don’t want to have the “stress” of owning a house (or two).  You say you want nothing, but refuse to leave until your “name is off the house”.  You say you need no one, and that you can do it all on your own.  Yet we all know you are wrong.  You know you are wrong.

Your anger and your blame has nothing to do with me.  It has to do with whatever it is that you are hiding from.  You need to find help, we need you to find help.

Help doesn’t mean you have to stay with me and your family.  Help means fixing you, and whatever it is that is making you unhappy.  Because fixing you is fixing our children.  Because when you are broken, it breaks them.

You deciding that we are not going to be “us” anymore is probably the best decision you have made for all of us.  Because I can no longer take the blame for your shortcomings and insecurities.  I have my own, and I need to be the best example I can be for our children. I know I am not strong enough to leave you on my own and I still want to “fix” you/us.

So while you waver in the wind and deny you need help, I’m going to get help for myself, my children and my own well being.  I will seek out legal advise and I will seek out counseling for me and for our children. I will find my way from here.

But, I hope someday you will realize how much you are loved, how much you have hurt us and how badly you need to be fixed.  I hope that you make the choice of life and that you realize your kids need you, not a “replacement daddy”, as you like to say.  I hope you that you make the choice to fix you, so that they too can be fixed.

My Not-So-Glamorous Life

The life of a single mother is not all that glamorous. Sometimes I act like it is. Life is just great being alone and raising 3 kids.

Truth be told, it is hard! I don’t have someone to sit down with at night and talk to about problems I am having with the kids. I don’t have someone who is raising them right alongside of me, someone who knows everything I do. It is a very lonely life.

Pretty much I have been single for the last 2 years. There have been a few small relationships, though. I have watched my friends find men that love them unconditionally. I have watched them be happy and in love. I go to dinner or go to hang out and all of a sudden I am the odd one out. I am the fifth wheel. Bonfires where everyone is cuddling close to their significant other, I am sitting alone trying to keep warm and keep from crying all the lonely tears that are bottled inside of me.

I was hurt really bad. It did more damage than even I like to admit. I know I have faults, and I even know what they are. But I just don’t see a point in trying to fix them if I continually get judged based on them. I am a lot better than before. My faults aren’t nearly as large.

When someone loves you…aren’t they supposed to love you unconditionally? Despite your faults? Aren’t they supposed to help you to better yourself and not judge you and leave you? That can’t be true love can it?

I want someone to stand beside me. I want someone to love me for me. I am a good person. I am a good mother. I am a good friend. I am kind. I am caring. I am loving and trusting and trustworthy.

Can one trivial thing ruin that in every single relationship I try to make work? Is it really that bad? Is being unorganized, and maybe a little chaotic and messy really a reason to stop loving someone? I don’t think so but I guess I am wrong because I have lost the one thing I want most in this life because of it. And in trying to find it again I get told the same thing over and over.

I Should Be A Mother

I should be a mother.

I’m not.

I got pregnant at 18.  My boyfriend (now husband) and I hadn’t been together long – it was a long-distance relationship, and the two months he spent visiting me that summer were the first time we’d been together face-to-face, the first time we’d gotten intimate without a phone or keyboard or webcam involved.

It wasn’t until he left to go back home, after plans had been made for me to visit his family at Christmas, during my winter break, that we found out I was pregnant. And not exactly in the best way possible. I was on the pill, and my period had been almost non-existent thanks to the contraceptives.  I started bleeding and cramping.  So get thee to the doctor, young Anne, where I had the fright of my life.

That I was miscarrying was shocking enough – I was on the pill!  That I was still pregnant after that was even more so.  Twins run in both of our families.  My boyfriend and I flailed around, tried to make plans and decide what to do – we were 18!  Living in different countries!  Both in school!  What would we tell our parents?!  Nothing, it turned out.

I miscarried the first at around five weeks, and the second four weeks later.

Intellectually, it was a relief.  I was 18, in university, no job, living with my parents and siblings, my partner lived in another country… a baby was the last thing I needed.

But oh, how I wanted it. Far more after I lost them both than while I was still pregnant. A pregnant woman or small baby would bring me to tears.  I was a wreck for weeks afterward (I’m still surprised my mother never seemed to figure out something was wrong) and ended up withdrawing from university and entering a modern apprenticeship at a daycare.  Which was even more agonizing, though I loved working with the children.

I gave that up after six months (and trouble with both the senior daycare staff who (illegally) treated me like a cleaner and the ‘adviser’ for my apprenticeship work forgetting to meet with me and holding our meetings in front or the co-workers who were breaking the law so I couldn’t SAY anything) and moved to office work, which is where I’ve been since. Fewer babies and pregnant women.

It’s been six years, but it still hurts.  I cry at baby product advertisements on the TV.  I sobbed for hours after reading some of the posts here on Band Back Together.  I watch children on the bus and on the street.  I wonder what my babies would have been like.  I brush off co-workers’ and in-laws’ questions about when we’re planning to start a family with a flip comment about having plenty of time.

I don’t tell them that I should have twin five-year-olds.

It still hurts.  I sometimes wonder if it will ever stop.

This Too Shall Pass…

Today is Day 1.

The first day of this deployment. Familiar in a sort of comforting way, but also strange and surreal.

You see, this deployment is my husband’s choice. It is a civilian deployment for his everyday job- an electrical engineer at a company that makes military radios. He is installing them in vehicles in Afghanistan.  He didn’t have to go.

He chose to go so that we have a chance to get ahead financially. A choice that he felt he couldn’t say no to. I feel awful that soldiers who are putting their lives in more danger are making so much less money. It just doesn’t seem right. My husband says, “hey I served, I don’t feel bad that I am taking this opportunity.” But still somehow it bothers me.

He is not responsible for the lives of 100 people this time, only his own. Later in the day I realized that I feel like this is cheating. Last time I felt guilty that he spent most of his time on base and rarely had to go outside the line. When meeting other wives, whose husbands were in further outposts and doing more dangerous jobs, I never told them how lucky I felt that most of the time, I was pretty sure my husband was sitting at a desk, a desk in Afghanistan, but still a desk and not kicking down doors or looking for IED’s.

If I felt guilty last time when he was serving as a soldier, its no wonder I feel so strongly like we are cheating now. I will be surprised if I don’t get into some sort of fight with my mother-in-law this year. She loves to get on her podium and proclaim to the world how hard she has it because her son is gone. Sorry, not my style. even more so this time.  She was just posting some crap on Facebook (a picture of my kid wearing an Army hat) and commenting that my husband was leaving Sunday; to remember the sacrifices soldiers make.

Sorry lady (and I use that term loosely), I don’t even know where to start. I’m not usually a freak about letting people know he is out of town, but I haven’t put it all over Facebook yet. Its really my business to share that my husband is leaving for a year. Thanks for putting that out there. If they are our friends/family that matter, they already know. After reading that, I sent her a brochure about Operational Security (OPSEC) and the things that are appropriate to post online. I think she was pissed, but I don’t care.

And that reminder about the sacrifices that soldiers make?

Again, he is not going as a soldier.

I feel it is disrespectful to those service members over there to put them in the same sentence.

Last time I had ways to show I was proud of him – blue star flag, wearing his unit pin, etc. this time I feel as if I have none of that. Luckily, I have my battle buddies, the wives who banded together with me the last time when our husbands were all deployed. But still, it’s weird because people realize that he must be getting paid a lot. It makes me feel greedy and ungrateful for all that we do have. It makes me feel guilty that I am excited we will be able to pay off the house.

I have been trying to hold it together for a few months now. When I do this, I give the impression to people that I am a cold-hearted bitch. Because I usually am very practical and pragmatic about deployments. What good does crying all the time do? Do they just expect me to fall apart because he is leaving or gone?

The first time, I said to myself and them “Someone has to go. When some guys have to go 3-4 times, who am I to think my husband deserves not to go at all?” and we were both okay with that deployment.

We were tired of waiting for the Army to pick a time to send him. And at least he was going with his own unit. This time, we are both okay with the sacrifice because we are hoping to pay off the house. Both times, it feels like people didn’t understand how we could be okay with this. Sure, we will miss each other, sure it will be hard. (I think it is hardest on the kids) but I am proud to be an independent wife and I want to teach my girls self reliance too. We never have been the type of couple that has to go everywhere together.

Since the Army has been a part of our relationship since I met him, we are pretty used to the short-term separations. Cell phones and email has made it easier. When I first met him, he didn’t have a cell phone and had to wait in line to use a pay phone. So I got pretty used to not hearing from him. Also, as an only child, sometimes I relish my time that I get to myself. My new job is great for that as it allows me to help other military families, yet get some alone time in the car traveling.

i don’t usually get upset about deployment in public, and I don’t usually get upset about it at home, because you see, with two kids, two dogs and a house to take care of, I have more things to do than wallow in self pity. So usually the magnitude of it all doesn’t really hit me until the night before he leaves.

Yesterday, I had to drive him to the airport in the late afternoon and it was my day that I allowed myself to be sad. I let the girls have cookies for dinner, eat in the living room and watch a movie while I laid in bed and watched my own TV shows.

This morning I had to move past that and get my daughter on the bus. Somehow I was reminded of the song “This Too Shall Pass” by Ok Go. I couldn’t stop listening to it today.

Somehow it made things better.