Tag Archives: Military Child

Month of the Military Child- Managing Deployments and Keeping Daddy Involved

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I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask, “Mother, what was war?” 
~Eve Merriam

April is Month of the Military Child. Since Huzzy and I don’t have children, I put out a call for guest bloggers to help out. I originally wanted to do a guest blogger every Monday, but I had so many fantastic responses that you’ll see a guest blogger every Monday and Thursday!

New Mommy and her family

My fifth guest blogger is New Mommy Confessions. She’s pretty new to blogging, but she’s catching on quick. While a large portion of it concerns military life, her blog also touches on “normal” family life, crafts, baking and the occasional rant.

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When the Sailor and I started talking babies we knew it meant someone’s career was at an end. At the time we were both active duty, but we had already decided that a child should have at least one stable person in their life. Financially it made the most sense for the Sailor to remain in the Navy and for me to get out.

Everything worked out beautifully, and when Baby Girl turned 8 months I was honorably discharged and ready to tackle my new role as a stay-at-home-mom. By this time the Sailor was already 2 months into a 6 month cruise. This meant that for the first 2 months I was a working, first-time mommy with no family in the area. The Navy doesn’t care if your kid is sick and daycare won’t take them.

I gained a healthy respect for working moms and especially military moms in those first months. I also learned that it just wasn’t for me. I might tease the Sailor about a lot of things (like who got the higher ASVAB score…ha!) but he is constantly forced to do something that I know in my heart I would not be capable of. More often than we like, he is called upon to leave his baby girl behind to do a job far, far away.

The first time he left she was 6 months old. He missed everything. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for him to hear all of her accomplishments through email and rare phone calls. First teeth, first word (Daddy!), crawling, climbing, first birthday…

I debated with myself what to do while he was gone. I knew that the most important thing to me was to be sure that Baby Girl knew who her Daddy was. I had his picture plastered everywhere: it was the screensaver on my phone and computer. I put up extra pictures of him around the house and invested in some “unbreakable” frames for our daughter so she had pictures of him she could play with. I had a pillow made up with his picture on it and she slept with it every night. He recorded himself reading her books, which I played so many times that I can recite “Hop on Pop” and a lot of other Dr. Suess books by heart.

But the hardest decision was what to do about him. Do I tell him every little milestone? Do I hide some from him so that maybe he wouldn’t know how much he was missing? This was our first child, and he had to miss so much of it.

Daddy and daughter

In the end I told him everything. I took a picture of her every day he was gone and sent him every single one. I sent him a pillowcase with a collage of baby pictures on it. A lot of women will complain about how the ship went into “River City” a lot during that deployment, but I’m convinced the internet just needed to take frequent breaks after dealing with all my emails and pictures.

When the Sailor came home I was a wreck. Did I do everything I could? Will she remember him? He had been gone for more so long.

In the end I didn’t need to worry. As soon as Daddy showed up I was invisible! (Hey kid, remember me? Mommy?) It was all worth it. Baby Girl certainly knew her Daddy.

Now we’re going through it again. Already. By the time he gets back this time he will have been gone for more than half of her life. It’s easier and harder this time. I know what to do, and I’m getting pretty good at it. He recorded books again before he left, we spent a lot of family time together and she sleeps with her Daddy Doll. But new stuff is cropping up as well. Nothing prepares you for your child wandering the house yelling, “Daddy, where are you?” because she thinks he’s just hiding. It breaks my heart every time.

When he comes home safe this will all feel like it was just a bad dream. I look forward to that day and pray for his safety and the safety of all those men and women on board. And I hang in there. I was a sailor too, and we’re a tough breed. And now I’m a milspouse, and we’re an even tougher breed. We wait until the kids are asleep to cry. Then we dry our tears, shake it off and carry on.

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Month of the Military Child- The Up Side of Moving

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If you don’t like something change it; if you can’t change it, change the way you think about it. 
~Mary Engelbreit

April is Month of the Military Child. Since Huzzy and I don’t have children, I put out a call for guest bloggers to help out. I originally wanted to do a guest blogger every Monday, but I had so many fantastic responses that you’ll see a guest blogger every Monday and Thursday!

My second guest blogger is Jamie at Handling with Grace?.

Jamie and her daughter

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Hi ladies.  My name is Jamie.  I blog over at “Handling With Grace?”.  I am a Navy wife and mother of a two year old.  I love the adventure that the military life offers but as we all know, there are tradeoffs that we encounter.  There are two simple truths about military life that we all know.

  1. Military life is hard.  It is hard to move around every couple years.  It is hard to leave friends who mean the world to us.  It is hard to re-make friends when we reach the new duty station.  It is not an “easy” lifestyle.
  2. This is a GOOD life!  Being separated from our biological families, we rely most heavily on our own little glued together modge podge group of friends that turn into family members.  We get to travel the country and experience things that many people never get to.  We are part of a select group of people who have friends all over not just this great country but this amazing world.

Things start to get a little trickier (for me at least) when I add my sweet toddler in to the equation.  She has big extended family that lives mere miles from each other in Southern California.  She (we) are the only missing piece of that family.  I am sad for her that she is not going to grow up super close to her cousins.  I am sad for her that she is not going to really know her grandparents and they won’t really know her.

I find peace with our (my husband and I try to make these decisions together) decision to be “lifers” by knowing that my sweet little one is going to be an expert friend maker by the time she is in high school.  She is not going to have a choice in the matter.  We are going to move.  This is an unavoidable component of this lifestyle that we have chosen.  Hopefully with my guidance and assistance, she will develop the self-confidence necessary to be a successful friend maker.  She will have a lot to offer as a friend with her vast array of life experiences travels.

Jamie and family

I plan to continue to show her all around this country and take full advantage of each duty station that we go to.  Through the travels and experiences, I fully expect her to develop a strong sense of self and self- confidence.  She is lucky that by the time she reaches high school, she too will have friends and extended “family members” all over not only this great country but this amazing world!

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Month of the Military Child- Pregnancy

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Think of stretch marks as pregnancy service stripes. 
~Joyce Armor

April is Month of the Military Child. Since Huzzy and I don’t have children, I put out a call for guest bloggers to help out. I originally wanted to do a guest blogger every Monday, but I had so many fantastic responses that you’ll see a guest blogger every Monday and Thursday!

My first guest blogger is Poekitten from Many Waters. She’s pregnant with their first child. I figured starting out Month of the Military Child with someone who is about to have her first military child would be the perfect place to start. So here we go…

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Hi, I’m Poekitten from Many Waters! I’m a born and bred New Englander who has been transplanted to the Pacific Northwest thanks to my husband (and the Navy). I love tea, other cultures, flip flops, warm weather and the view from our deck of Puget Sound. My husband, whom I call The Man, and I are expecting are first child in mid-July. We’re super excited and nervous too, all at the same time.

Poekitten and Mr. Poekitten... parents-to-be!

I’ve found that being a pregnant Milspouse isn’t all the different from a non pregnant Milspouse. I still do most of the things I did before I got pregnant, like cooking, cleaning, taking care of the furbabies (minus the catbox…loving it!), etc. The Man’s schedule is crazy thanks to being in the shipyard, so nothing has changed there. The biggest change so far is that I’m getting bigger and it’s getting harder getting comfy to sleep. I’m enjoying duty nights now cause I get the whole bed and all the pillows too myself.

Well, there might be one difference. The hormones. The hormones just magnify everything. I’m kinda ashamed about my reaction to his leaving for week long sea trials. I wanted to do nothing but pull the covers over my head and stay in bed all weekend. I made myself get out of bed but it was a challenge. I was appalled because we’ve endured much longer separations. A week is NOTHING. I was just so overwhelmed at the thought of him missing birthing class and a doctors appointment and having to deal with the dogs and the cats and just plain being alone. Even in the midst of it I knew it was ridiculous. I had no idea who this woman was or where she came from. I know that there are other milspouses who have had their husbands gone for the majority of the pregnancy. There are milspouses who have given birth while their husbands are deployed.

As I thought about it, I realized they had days where they wanted to hide under the covers too. So I did what I always go, what we milspouses always do. I put on my big girl panties and moved on. I’m not going to lie, the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup ice cream helped. I’ve been wrestling my emotions and trying to keep them under control. Thankfully, a pregnant women a break down is allowed and maybe even expected every once in a while.

So I’m doing what I do when he’s gone. I take care of the house and the furbabies. I eat all the food I like and he hates. I write down the thoughts that I want to share with him when he gets home. I sort through baby clothes and other paraphernalia that a kind friend has given us. As I do these things my mind is thinking, thinking about this life and lifestyle we’ve chosen. I realize, even as I mourn the idea that my daughter won’t grow up in one town like I did, that there is strength here. My daughter will learn how to be independent, how to face yucky situations head on, how to make friends in new places and how to deal with separation from loved ones. She’ll see how love between two people, even when they are apart, stays strong. She’ll have me to model those things for her. So I’m starting now, being role model for my daughter. If I can’t handle a separation from my husband when it’s just me, how will I be able to do it with a child?

As her daily kicks remind me, I’m not alone. It’s no longer just the two of us, The Man and I. There are three of us now. Thankfully as the two of us wait for her daddy to come home, we’re not alone either. We have the sisterhood of milspouses standing with us. So thank you ladies (and gents too!) for your support and strength. I know that none of us could do this very well alone.

In case you’re wondering, my emotions are all over the place again. I think a bowl of ice cream will help…

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Month of the Military Child – The Ups and Downs of a Military Child

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In the happiest of our childhood memories, our parents were happy, too.
~Robert Brault

April is the Month of the Military Child. Deployments and serving in the military is tough on the servicemember and the spouse, but it’s equally as hard (if not harder) on the servicemember’s children. Military children often need more support than a civilian child, especially during deployments.

This month, to honor our military children, I’m dedicating each Monday to Month of the Military Child (except today since I didn’t have internet this week… so I’m catching up on this past Monday’s post). Since we don’t have children, I’ve asked a few guests to blog about their experiences with military children and provide some insight into how we can help these children excel during what may be the toughest time of their young lives.

My second guest post of the month is about a side of the service that is often overlooked… the Reserve side. As a reservist myself, I thought it was important to highlight the children who live as civilian children… until they are thrust into the military life with a deployed parent.

This guest post will go through some of the ups and downs military children experience.

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I am an Air Force wife, mom of two, personality psychologist, freelance writer, runner, and cook. I blog at www.LeadingMama.com. I

Like Father, Like Son

wake up early, no matter what. I have big ideas and I love a challenge. I say “yes” too often and I hate sitting still. I’m addicted to coffee, chocolate, and my kids. When my husband isn’t home, I secretly sleep on his pillow and wear his t-shirts. Our family life is proof that “change is the only constant,” with four deployments, two babies born, and five moves in the past six years. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My son is a mama’s boy.

I am a boy’s mama.

Our attachment was not instantaneous. There was no magic. Our attachment grew in the small, shared moments of life.

It took root when I held my tiny, hungry baby and I fed him. It grew as I soothed his anxious cries, singing whatever song I could pull from my weary brain. It bloomed when we snuggled in for naps together, breathing in and out simultaneously. Our lives are so richly intertwined that it is hard to tell where I stop and he begins.

Best Buds

My son is a military child. I am military mama.

No matter what comes, Carson knows he can count on me. I am his constant.

My husband is a military dad. He loves our children completely. But he doesn’t have the luxury of constancy. He misses out on everyday opportunities for fatherhood. It’s been that way since the beginning.

Four months from my due date, my husband was selected for command of a Provincial Reconstruction Team in Afghanistan.  In an instant, our “military family planning” went out the window.

Chris would miss the first 15 months of our son’s life. He’d miss his birth. He’d miss his first smile, first steps, first word. He’d miss his first Christmas and his first birthday.

“If it had to happen, it is best that it happened now,” he rationalized. “He’s too young to know I am not there. He won’t remember it.”

In some ways, Chris was right. Intellectually, Carson doesn’t remember that his Dad missed those things.  But emotionally, he knows.

He knows his dad is gone way more than he is home. His dad has been TDY or deployed more than half of Carson’s four-years-long life.

He knows he wants his mom to buckle his seatbelt, to hold his hand, to sit next to him in restaurants. He knows he wants his mom to read him stories, to wipe his tears and his bottom, to make his dinner. He knows his mom will make everything all right. He knows he can count on me.

A while back, I asked Chris what he wants our kids to remember about him when they are adults. He said “I want them to remember that I served in the war….I was awarded three Bronze Stars….I helped the people of Afghanistan reclaim and rebuild their country.”

His answer seemed so sterile, so historical, and so sad. His answer seems so different from my own.

I want my kids to remember that I loved them. I want them to remember how I kissed their hurts, how I read their favorite stories, how I played catch in the living room. I want them to remember that I carried them when they were tired, that I called them “Booty” and “Punk.” I want them to remember ice skating and train trips and Christmas cookies.

It took me a while to make sense of my husband’s response and to accept its wisdom.

Boys will be boys

My husband knows he missed out on important, irreplaceable moments in our son’s life. He misses them every day. Even when he’s not deployed, his responsibilities keep him away from home in mind if not in body.

Those missed moments are painful for Chris and they are painful for Carson. “Daddy has to work” is a lackluster reason for missing the spring preschool concert. “Daddy has to work” doesn’t make him feel better when the phone rings during dinner. “Daddy has to work” cannot begin to express the importance of Daddy’s job. Sure, Carson understands about “bad guys” and “good guys,” but he can’t grasp how bad the bad guys are. And he doesn’t yet know how good his Daddy is.

My husband hopes his children –  when they are all grown up – will understand why he wasn’t there. He hopes they will be proud of him. I hope so, too.

My son is a military child.

He runs outside every afternoon when retreat sounds on base. He puts his hand on his heart and stands still until the National Anthem ends. He is proud to be an American.

Then he waits in the yard. Sometimes he waits for hours. He waits for his Dad to come home, playing and puttering until he sees his Dad’s car round the bend. Then he runs all-out toward the end of the driveway and holds his arms up high so his Dad can pull him into the car through the open window. They maneuver into the garage together, four hands on the wheel.

As they interact, their attachment grows. They talk over dinner about daycare drama and last night’s episode of Wipe Out. Then they adjourn to the dining room to race slot cars until I say it is bath time. Carson bumps Chris’s car off the track with amazing skill. He declares himself the winner. His Dad is the happiest loser I’ve seen.

In those small moments, my son and his dad are not subject to military priorities or the deployment schedule. My son feels his Dad’s love as surely as he feels my own. He is a military child.

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Check back next Monday as I hope to have a guest post on the Exception Family Member Program.