In the past four months, my husband has been told twice to prepare to deploy, only to hear days later “never mind”…that each notification was a mistake because someone did not pull up the correct list.
I am about to punch those someones in the throat. Not because of deployment; I am well aware that deployments are part of the job. I’ve been around this rodeo long enough to know that when there is smoke, there is fire. Right now I can’t take the back and forth, the waiting for the shoe to drop, the expectation. I hate the waiting, knowing a deployment is coming, but not knowing when. Either deploy or don’t deploy, but this revving up my engine to solo parent for a year only to have the brakes put on is painful and is giving me facial tics.
Our kids are old enough now that we talk about this stuff openly in front of them. Prior to knowing the most recent deployment was an ‘oops!’, our ten year old son threw in his own two-cents by saying, “I don’t want Daddy to deploy again.” We explained to him that none of us do, but if he doesn’t go, then someone else’s daddy has to, and that is not fair. I am sure that night, after prayers were said for the health and safety for all our loved ones, after kisses were given and bodies tucked in, that same son offered up a different prayer request…a silent and earnest one that most likely asked for his daddy not to deploy.
The next day was when we were told the deployment was a false alarm.
Man…I wish our kid would use the one-on-one hotline he has on a broader scope. How about next time praying for world peace? Or at least for a little more certainty in our military life.