Sacrifice

In the 20 years my husband was a Marine there was never a question of who's job took priority in our home. It was he who had a contract with the government. His commitment to the country came first above all other matters in our home. He was dedicated and obligated to serve as the Marine Corps saw fit and it was understood by us both. That does not mean I was thrilled when the Marine Corps plans ruined the family's plans but we became accustomed to this unique way of life. He made many sacrifices in those 20 years and although he was living his dream it still took a toll on the family.

As a Marine's wife we were taught early on that any sacrifice we made paled in comparison to the Marine we married and to complain of our struggles was blasphemy. Marines are sleeping in sand pits, ducking fire and watching their comrades die while we bitch about them not being able to attend our child's birthday party or something "petty". I believed it too. I did my patriotic duty and supported him, kept my pain and disappointment to myself and struggled on...alone. When someone would thank us BOTH for our sacrifice I'd say I had the better end of the deal. I never entered a war zone. I had all the comforts of our safe home and base while he was out protecting the nation. He was the one who sacrificed. I just married the boy I fell in love with as teenagers. I was not comfortable talking about MY sacrifice.

It was well after his retirement and suicide that I began to see that I did give up a great deal during his career. It was not inappropriate to appreciate any thanks or recognition. For as much as he gave to the United States, I did too in support of his commitment. My sacrifices were less "remarkable". I did not wear a uniform or travel into very dangerous places but I did sacrifice so much while he served.
I moved several times to be by his side as he got orders for new duty stations. Twice I drove from Chicago to San Diego, roughly 2000 miles, alone with a toddler and infant.
While in Chicago on Recruiting Duty our two youngest were born. He was luckily present for their birth but sadly was not around much for the first two years of their "firsts". First step, first word, first time sleeping through the night. He also missed nearly all of our older sons soccer games, parent teacher meetings etc. I was a married single parent and I did it for our country. I was exhausted. I was at times resentful but I knew what I had signed up for when I married a Marine.

I landed my dream job while stationed there. In the head quarters of a major corporation. The pay was higher than any in my career that far. Higher than his even. The benefits were outstanding and I had the opportunity of moving up within the company quickly. I felt so good about myself and our future. Then one afternoon, Mike's engine blew on his vehicle. The cost of replacing it was more than the cars total worth. We couldn't afford it. We became a one car family.  I knew what that meant. I had two choices: I could quit the job I loved so much or take a public bus to drop my kids off at day car and the 30 mile trip to work each day. I decided to at least try taking the bus. It meant waking up at 4am to get us ready, catch the bus, drop them off and get to work with a small window or I'd be late. That was just in the morning. The trip home at night was just as stressful. The kids had to be picked up by 6 or we paid a hefty fee...if I did not get out of the office on time or the bus was late I'd enivitably pay fines. By the time we got home it was 7 at night and I'd have to rush to prepare dinner, bathe the kids and get to bed to start the whole process over the next day. It wasn't long before I had to acknowledge it was not working. I resigned from my job. I cried for days. I gave up something that was "just mine" something that made ME proud. I eventually made peace with it. I never forgot though. For a small amount of time I felt useful outside my home. I felt smart and strong. Life went on.

Shortly thereafter we got orders for Camp Pendleton and looked forward to the new start and our future. Once we got settled we began to really love the change. Mike worked normal hours and was more present in our lives day to day. As soon as we developed a routine he got orders for Iraq again. The first time since our youngest two were born but the 2nd time total. I had done it before but last time with two less kids. Having a 7 year old, 3 year old and 12 month old alone frightened me. I was not sure I could do it. We hadn't been there long enough to have made friends yet. My family was 2000 miles away. It literally was just me. We survived. In the end I convinced myself I was so much stronger and more capable because of it.
He deployed several times after that and I managed as I always did. After he returned in 2009 I began taking evening classes at college. The Masters program was intense. Because it was administered at night it was cramming all the day time material into 3 less hours in the evening. But the evening hours worked for us. I left for class after he got home from work.  We were able to make it work. And...it did for months. But then he came home one day and I knew from the look on his eyes that he had bad news. He got order for Iraq again. I was faced with the same situation as a few years prior. I scurried to try and find a sitter for my kids from 4 in the afternoon until 11 at night during the week. These are unusual hours and I was having no luck at all. Right when I was about to give up a friend offered to help. They needed the extra money and knew I was in a bind. So we said good bye to my husband and we went on with life. The days were so long and I was so worn out. I'd have to pick the kids up sleeping from her house after school bring them home get them in bed, do my homework try to sleep an hour or two before they were up ready to rock and roll...rinse and repeat. I remember drinking a lot of coffee during that deployment. Everything else was a blur. I did not think about how tired I was. I just kept pushing on.
As the time drew closer to Mikes return from Iraq...more bad news. My friend the sitter got orders and they would be moving soon. I kept hope though because my husband's arrival time and her last day to sit had a slight overlap and this could be okay. BUT...then my husband's deployment got extended. I was right back in that old familiar place. I had to withdraw from classes. At first it was a temporary solution. A leave of absence and held on to the hope I'd find a way but after my alloted time came I knew I had to make it official. I dropped.

By the time he returned from that deployment his PTSD was worse than it had even been before and there were times I knew I could not even leave my kids alone with him. I spent most of my time after that making excuses for his behavior and playing ref between he and the kids. THAT became my new full time job. All that time I wished he was home and by then I had days I wished he wasnt. His presence changed our home. It was so tense all the time. The irony in that is not lost on me. He assured me that retirement was around the corner and once we were away from all of his stressors he would be different, life would be different. I foolishly believed him. I loved him with all my heart and just wanted back what we had once. I convinced myself that deep down inside the man I knew still existed and I put my faith in that. I didn't have time to think about anything I ever sacrificed. My thoughts were trained squarely on getting him out of the situation he was in so we could be "normal" again.

But...we know the ending of his story. He was never "normal" again. It wasn't his environment as he'd swore to me. It was him. He was broken and in denial. We did retire and move back home. He started school. I took a low paying job that I was over qualified for to help support his dreams. I thought maybe going to school would help break the funk.  Of course I still couldn't trust him with the kids so my sister stayed with them during the day. I worked 12 hour days. When he retired the nation was in recession. Jobs were scarce. It took me three months to find the job I did eventually get. I'd only worked there a month when he committed suicide. I hadn't even passed my probation period. The morning after he died, just hours later I remember telling my mom I had to get ready for work. I was still in my probation period and I didn't want to get fired. It's laughable now. My mom said "You're in shock. You're not going to work!" About a month after his death I was diagnosed with PTSD myself. I was very honest with my boss about it. A week later I recieve a box in the mail. It was from work. It was all the personal items from my office. Everything in and on my desk and a note that said " your condition is not conducive to the high paced environment of this position."

I just crumbled. Even after his death I sacrificed. Now as a single parent, becoming widow at 34 and the past 3 years I still sacrifice. When someone says Thank you for my sacrifice I appreciate it. Finally. I understand that I did and do sacrifice everyday.

To military wives now and in the future: you DO sacrifice for his service. It's not in the traditional ways we've been taught but never let anyone tell you that your job is not trying, difficult and selfless. It took me 20 years, a suicide and several years outside the unique subculture to finally grasp the magnitude of what I gave up. We aren't martyrs. Everything we do is a choice. We choose to do what's best for our family and our country. My only advice is not to lose yourself in his career. Remember to take care of yourself when you can. What you do is important. Sure you aren't recognized and no one sees you in a bar and buys you a beer but your part is not done in vain. When you are thanked learn to accept that compliment. Remain humble but always remember you are doing your part too.

Thank You Military Spouses and Semper Gumby, Marine Wives!