9 Lessons from 9 Months of Deployment

Ryan came home over a month ago from a tour in Afghanistan and Iraq... and life has been a whirlwind of plans coming together ever since. Between traveling to SC to work on our house and list it for sale and coming home to a gnarly sinus infection, draining is the best way to describe his leave. Even though it has been a busy month, I've been trying to soak in just being together again.

Today he went back to work so I sat alone with my coffee this morning, folding towels and really allowing myself to decompress from the past year and start to understand the deployment.
By "understand", I just mean process and see its role in our relationship. I know there will be more interrupted years of deployment so it's important to me that I allow it to mold itself into our life together- an integral part of military family life is distance. That will never change so if I'm unable to get comfortable with it, it'll just be a nuisance and nothing to learn from. I'm always looking for a lesson.

Many of the things I learned, I had to keep re-learning. Every time I would reach the realization or epiphany, I would kick myself because "I already knew this". So deployment required me to give a lot of grace to myself. I think that should be the overarching theme of any deployment for any situation over any amount of time for any person at all: give yourself all the grace, and others too. Chances are you'll bump into more people that just don't understand than people that do.



I think what I'm taking away from this 9 months is much different from what my husband is taking away. Much different from what my friends or their husbands are taking away. Because it really is such a unique experience for each person. So if you're reading this going into a deployment... please don't see it as absolute advice or guidelines. Rather, just know that your experience will present its own challenges, rewards, and lessons.

Speaking to my own experience:

1. Heart goals are as important as physical goals. I started out with a plan to lose 50 lbs by the time Ryan came home. While I did lose a little weight and improve my health, I did not shed 50 lbs. Instead, I felt a calling to become a birth and bereavement doula. I spent more time and energy chasing that goal than I did losing weight. And in the midst of it, I was really hard on myself. Because while others can maybe do both, I just had to rest my heart and body when I could. Bereavement is a heavy, deep practice and self care in the form of rest became a priority for me over the deployment. When I received my credential, I felt so much relief over that struggle: I did set a goal that I achieved. I answered what I know to be a clear call from the Lord and so much pride washed over me. I became happy with my heart- which is just as important as being happy with my body. So, both!

2. "Stay busy!" can be the worst advice anyone can give a military spouse. CAN be. I know this sentiment is well-meaning. It is intended to help us not focus on the time passing or the what-ifs! For me, I know how to keep my hands busy. I also know how to really avoid looking in the mirror or showering for 4 days because there's no time between all the running I've been doing. I think social media feeds a "need" to always look like you're doing something cool. While I used to be all about literally doing something at all times, that type of busy-ness really feeds my anxiety. Ignoring that blurb about my own self, I constantly sought schedule fulfillment for much of the deployment, actually. It got to the point that I felt so distant from my friends sitting right next to them- because my brain was already in the next thing I needed to do. I learned about myself that I am now more physically introverted and time alone is a need I have, so that I can really be present for life. Next time, I will work harder to find a balance between over-scheduling my life and keeping my mind occupied.


3. Independence can be a learned trait. I don't believe I have always been a definite independent woman. I appreciate the ways I am able to depend on others, specifically Ryan, pretty much every day. When every part of life at home was on my shoulders all of a sudden, it seemed overwhelming. So I just bit off a little at a time. And soon I was managing all of the responsibilities that living alone can incur. I'm really proud of the independence I achieved when it's not my natural inclination to handle all things.

4. Accepting help is important to the process. In the same way that independence did not come naturally, asking for and accepting help once I found my independence did not come naturally either. I'm so thankful for neighbors and friends that don't take "no" for an answer. It's absolutely impossible to do everything on your own. Something will certainly break or go wrong. I had to learn that it's not only okay but sometimes the best idea to accept a hand when it's lent.

5. It IS hard "without" kids. Nobody ever said it wasn't hard without kids, but one time (ahem, the re-integration training) it was implied. I walked in when introductions were happening: say your name, how many deployments you've endured, and how many kids you have. I sat praying to not have to take a turn and get the pity looks when I claim my babies, until a young girl introduced herself and explained this was the first deployment and they had no children yet. The facilitator said "Oh, that's okay. It can be hard without kids too." And that really bothered me, so much that I was wishing I'd had the chance to chime in after all. The reality is it was extremely hard for me to live in my home alone without my husband. Deployment is hard for everyone, kids or not. Ours aren't in the home and personally, that was an added stress and sadness in my day to day. I also can't count the number of times it was actually said to me directly, "At least the kids aren't here to have to deal with too".... Ya'll. All I wanted all deployment was for my sweet babies to be here asking for Daddy to call or to be able tuck them in with his shirt. Standing in the hangar as our soldiers walked in, I was overwhelmed with a mix of joy and sadness that our children weren't there to welcome him home. Every experience for the rest of our lives, there will be three missing. That does NOT make any load lighter to bear. Aside from that, I know that those who are childless by choice do not think they had it any easier than those with children in the home. It's not a contest.

6. Stress affects the immune system very deeply. It took a good four months for me to really get a grip on deployment. Its a wonder why for the months between December and May I was quite literally ALWAYS SICK. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. My luck even landed me with walking pneumonia and food poisoning between sinus infections. I credit much of the time I spent sick to my addiction to busy-ness and some of it to unavoidable stress that comes with my husband working in a war zone. I feel that kind of stress is unavoidable, but recognizing it and managing it with self care and vitamins (go ahead, get the ~essential oils~ out too) is crucial to my health.

7. Embrace Self-Compassion. This part is absolute advice for everyone. I was so hard on myself so many times when I thought I shouldn't feel or think a certain way. When I had a pity party, it got worse because I would punish myself for feeling bad. The truth is while feelings are not logical, our thoughts can be. Logically, any military spouse enduring deployment can see that a lot is on their own shoulders. We have to learn to be gentle with ourselves and allow a bad day or two or three or seven. Self compassion helped me learn from my mistakes. It also helped me be more optimistic as well as gracious with others when they make mistakes. Military families are resilient- and resiliency comes from embracing compassion and understanding of ourselves.



8. You're not a bad wife if you turn the news off. About two weeks before Ryan left for Bagram, Bagram was bombed. In all our preparing for the deployment, I had not prepared my mind for the realities of war. Suddenly they were all at the forefront of my thoughts and I could not control the fear that crept in. This really affected our relationship in the days before deployment and in the first few months. I caught myself glued to every media outlet that mentioned the Middle East, believing that I am not a well-informed citizen, then I must not care about what is happening there. When our friends lost member of their flight school family to a fatal crash stateside, the fears began spiraling out of control. Bad news almost every day, all around the world- even home. It was a normal occurrence that if I hadn't heard from Ryan in over 24 hours I would fully expect to arrive home to a government vehicle in my driveway waiting on me. I understood how often this unhealthy thinking occurred when I did it at my Momma's while I was visiting home. As I was walking out the door to spend the night in a different town, I let her know that in the event I could not be contacted or found she would be called or visited. She looked at me in horror that I had planned out and expected any minute that I would be receiving a casualty notification for her son in law at any given moment. It had only been 42 hours since I'd heard from him that time. I realized I needed to change something or I was doomed to catastrophize for the remainder of our deployment and every deployment after.
So I turned the news off.
And it didn't magically absolve my fear, but it did stop feeding it. I finally knew how to control that aspect of my anxiety and I could sleep better at night. Its absolutely alright to turn the news off. I honestly haven't turned it back on. I have a much better handle of reality and goodness in the world when I'm not watching it.

9. I can do hard things. I knew this. I'm a resilient person. I'm a brave woman. I live as a bereaved mother. But this was different and I'm still not sure I can explain how difficult it was. Either way, it got done and it feels like a huge achievement for myself and for our marriage. I wrote, I studied, I photographed, I spent time with the Lord, I loved on my friends. I lived each day with some type of intention (a fun memory is my daily photo project).
Roughly adjusting back to a two-person home is a blessing not lost upon me. That's not to say that reintegration hasn't presented its own challenges and lessons. But I'm so thankful I get to do hard things with him home now rather than 8,000 miles away. I'm thankful he is safe and his mind is sound. I'm thankful I get to do more hard things down the road, always as Mrs. Coker.

When Babies Do Keep

Why do we grieve the passage of time

and curse the speed of a moment?

Why are we mad at growth

as if it can help it's purpose?

We cry out to it: please slow down,

ask the children to stop growing

as if it growing is something

they are not supposed to do.

As if a child getting older

goes against the natural order.

Perhaps we are sad that a moment passes

before we can soak it in.

But would we not be more sad

if the moment never happened?

If the only way to make time stand still

came to us

as if it is something

any of us actually want.

As if we'd ask for the most terrible thing

just to make a baby keep.

Sometimes they do.

Sometimes they are not going to get any older

before our eyes

and between our blinks.

Sometimes they stay the very same size

as they were when we first met them.

We know this.

We attended the funeral.

For some time can't move fast enough.

But here we are anyway

asking the children to stop growing.

In Defense of Shutting Up

It has been 8 months between my last post and this one. I've had a few reasons for not blogging- some of them intentional and some of them beyond my control. Either way, I feel so relieved to sit down and write about the things I've been reflecting on, even if it ends up being a word vomit.

Following Mason's due date, life became very overwhelming. Ryan and I had a few weeks in November to bond with each other and connect before he would deploy. Those weeks felt like hours and before we knew it, he was slipping his wedding ring off into my hand and joining formation to march out of the gym. I was suddenly in uncharted territory and it has taken me seven months to really get a good handle on navigating life and grief without my partner within tangible reach. I'll write more about that soon.
We watched people we love, people we consider to be reasonable, people we've come to expect some perspective from... come completely undone in the face of the election. That was exhausting- trying to avoid all politics and just care for our own hearts when many of the people we looked to to help cultivate a gentle atmosphere were caught up in those politics. I couldn't do anything but sit quietly and observe the chaos. This was the beginning of my writing break.

All three birthdays have passed for our babies. January 5th was our Baby Errol's, it came and went as quietly as he did. Mason turned one on May 19th. And Eden turned two Monday June 26th. I feel that the second year for Eden was harder than the first, but the timeline has been complicated as her second year was Errol and Mason's first.
Either way, this year was harder than the last. It's no secret that a miscarriage is societally seen as "less" than a full term neonatal death. There has been a stark contrast between the kind of support and love we received when we consider that we've lost three children. That's what they are to us. Our babies. And it felt like to some, they were not. That because we haven't shared Mason's face, he must not have one. That because we never even held a Baby Errol, he really wasn't here. And that is a shitty thing to feel. People have continued to tell us they always think of us and Eden. Conveniently excluded are our other two- whom Ryan and I call "the boys". Finding a way to build legacies for babies others like to pretend didn't exist is exhausting. Continuing on with life-long grief while outsiders would believe that there's a time limit is also exhausting.

It has also been a year that made the question "do you have any kids?" harder to answer than before. We don't know what to say anymore. If we say yes, then answer the questions that follow honestly... we usually walk away from some awful platitude that just hurts. We'll never deny our babies, but we've learned to skirt the topic with strangers and try to ease into it gently with new friends so they may understand first how we'd like to be treated after telling our story to them.

This blog kind of got out of control. Going viral after Eden's identity theft opened our lives to scrutiny that our hearts couldn't handle. I disabled comments of course, but emails kept coming. I was accused of killing my children, of getting pregnant on purpose to lose a child. Ugly things have been said in the face of our decision to be transparent with our marriage and with parenthood and with grief. I don't want my babies memories immediately associated with what happened to us, and I definitely don't want them associated with such awful accusations.
It is also hard to gather your thoughts with people watching (or reading). When you're vocal about your experience and something relevant to that experience or something you've said before (say a pregnancy announcement as an example), people look to you for your initial reactions so they may decide if you are gracious or bitter.
SO I felt I just needed to shut up for a while. The internet has brought us to some of the most supportive and loving friends, but it is not always a safe place for the grieving mother and father.

Then again, neither is everyday life.
I've grown so tired of being asked when we'll have another baby. HEY my husband is deployed so it won't be today. What if we don't want to have another baby?
The problem is, it makes people uncomfortable to call me a mom or Ryan a dad as long as we have no living children. It makes me question our parenthood myself. I feel invisible. I feel taunted.
"You can have mine!" No, I can't.
"I could choke them." Please, don't.
And so when I am in a room full of mothers, my anxiety manifests in the form of believing that I have nothing to offer to the conversation. If I do offer something, it might shut the conversation down or worse, I very well may walk away from it being told my offering was not welcome or relevant because I am not nor will I ever be like them.

This anxiety evolved in my mind... when I did want to sit down and write and share, I couldn't. I physically could not get the words out and I had begun to believe that it didn't matter anyway. I was paralyzed at the thought of being vulnerable and pouring my heart out for none of it to ultimately matter.

I have been given my circle though, my own mom group. I was able to begin to cultivate friendships with other moms- some of them also having walked through unspeakable loss- where instead of feeling contagious I've been asked to keep children overnight. Where I can speak freely as a mother and a woman and no one questions whether they might value what I have to say. They make me a spiritual mom of their children and that kind of friendship is worth more than gold. I think being quiet with the world to "find" those people was needed.

Another thing I've been able to do since I've taken this time off is become a certified doula in birth & bereavement. In December I had the thought that I should, but I told the Lord he would have to be louder if that were an avenue I needed to pursue. He would up yelling by February and so I registered with StillBirthday. I turned in my final tasks last week. I think it'll add a lot to my presence at bereavement births as a photographer and with that being such a big "why" for me... it just feels so good to have done this. I'll be overhauling my business in the next few months to focus more on births and doula services.
In 6 months, I had written a whole paragraph for a book. It was not coming easily and it felt forced. I was deleting everything. So I put that down at the same time I started my doula course. I feel like in the next few weeks I'll be able to pick it back up again as well.

Really, taking this time to be quiet has been so needed in my grief. Learning to be alone and recharge and care for my heart and mind is an important step in healing that I never expected. I had been self medicating with busy-ness and oversharing and so when I finally shut up and cleared my schedule to just be alone, it hurt. It was like coming down off a high. I didn't know what to do with myself. Many things I'd been keeping at arms length entered my soul and I broke. I had no where to look but upward and nothing outward to work on... that meant working inward.
So me and God have had it out these past few months. When our relationship was pretty and I was hashtag blessed, I never had to question Him. But in the wake of loss and confusion, I still didn't want to question or doubt. I spent so much time just "yes and amen"-ing even when I needed to fuss that I did not fully confront the questions and anger when they arose. I won't go into too many details, but the quietness and down time allowed for me to seek the face of the Savior and discover undeniable truths for my broken heart. While it was hard, I can still say it was good. It's important to work out the kinks in faith every once in a while or else, is it really faith?

All of that to say I'm back to writing and I'm glad. If none of it does ultimately matter to anyone else, it matters to me. It's a part of my healing. It's for me. Hopefully it points to the Lord in suffering. Hopefully it gives hope of abundantly blessed life after loss even without living children. Hopefully it inspires someone or just makes them feel something. If none of that happens though, it inspires me. I like to talk about this life and this grief and all the love I have for my babies.
I had to shut up for a while to understand why and who for. Because it matters to me. For me.