Just before Thanksgiving, Andrew and I got word we would be deploying to Iraq toward the end of this year. The initial notice felt like a sucker punch to the gut. Yes, we’re always ready and more than willing to deploy and have talked about it often, but when you finally get the word that it’s happening, it’s a shock. You have all these plans for the future and, even if they’re just rough plans, when they suddenly get swept out from under you, it’s a little hard to breath. I’m planner my nature. I like my little rubber ducks to neatly in a row. I like to know the next step in life, the next block that needs to be checked and when that was all ripped away so suddenly, it took some getting used to.
Initially my mind raced with questions. What would we do with the dog? What about the house? What about all of our stuff? What do we do with our cars? What about, what about, what about…? So we talked through it. We developed plans. We figured it out. We moved some things around, changed some goals, and relaxed a little bit.
A few months went by and I kept getting more and more excited about deploying. I didn’t blog about it because we never got the official official notification that we were for sure, without a doubt, going. So I waited. Andrew and I talked about it every day. We talked about what it would be like, about what we would learn, about what we would do to celebrate once we got back. We talked about big stuff, death stuff, and imagined all the great adventures we could have. We got ourselves mentally prepared, and we both started hitting the treadmill again in a hard way to get ourselves back into tip-top physical shape.
I was pumped. Ready. I found myself getting frustrated with February and then March because they simply would not go fast enough. I wanted it to be September. I wanted to board a plane and GO. Now. The waiting is the hardest part. I wanted to deploy.
Then, two days before my birthday, on the day I had LASIK, we got an email that said we weren’t going. Good job on getting prepared everyone, but things have changed.
Now, I feel deflated. A little lost. Again. I was floundering when we found out we were getting deployed and that all my plans had changed and now, to have it happen again, feels even worse.
We’ve wanted to deploy again. We’ve talked about it a million times. Kosovo was a great and wonderful experience, but we want to deploy to a combat zone. The time was right. We were ready. I wanted to go. And then no.
So yeah. All I’ve wanted to blog about since November is the deployment and now it’s not happening. Which is good, I guess. And bad, too. It means I can go to school again in the summer and fall and take a few more baby steps toward getting my degree. It means Andrew gets to turn 30 in the U.S. But it means we don’t get to deploy and experience Iraq. And it means we won’t get to take leave and go visit Andrew’s best friend in Sweden. It means a lot of things.
Really, it’s okay. I know we’ll deploy eventually. If not now, then later. It’s the waiting though, that’s so hard sometimes.