Not as Strong as I Thought

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It was after church, and we hadn't said a single word to each other all morning.

We sat awkwardly next to each other at church, while I tried my hardest to look happy.

When we got home, we both sat on the hardwood floors of our kitchen, backs against the cabinets, tears rolling down my face, and mascara everywhere.

D was off in the distance picking out a movie for daddy to put on her tv in her bedroom as happy as a lark.

It was the day before I would (once again) have to say goodbye to my best friend, father of my child, my carpenter, my chauffeur, my personal grocery shopper, dog walker, and most importantly my husband. He does it all. 

Without complaint.

Without hesitation.

With a big smile on his face because he knows that it's making life just a little bit easier for me.

My heart hurt and felt so heavy, and I just couldn't stop sobbing.

When you marry someone, you go into it thinking that this person is going to be the person you wake up next to every single day of your life.

Then you realize you married into a life of deployments, separations, constant moving, and uncertainty.

I don't think I've ever had to say "Welcome Home" and "Goodbye" so many times in one year. 

It was yesterday when I spilled everything to Nick.

I HATED this life.

I HATED doing everything alone.

I HATED seeing other happy couples together.

I HATED not knowing our future.

I realized yesterday how unhappy I truly was.

I've always been the type of wife that put on my "big girl panties" and "toughs it out".

I try my best not to complain about how much I miss my husband on facebook, and for the most part I spend my days trying to be the best mommy AND daddy for Dannika.

It was yesterday that I realized just how much happier I was to just have another set of hands around the house and to have someone to sleep next to.

We sat on the floor of the kitchen next to each other, staring directly ahead of us, while I cried to Nick that I wasn't as strong as I thought I was.

My life is groundhog day. 

I work.

I come home.

I work out.

I make dinner.

I feed myself and D.

I try and spend a good hour with her.

I go to bed. 

My life revolves around trying to be the best mother to D I can be, and I realized that the only reason why I do that is not because I love her, but it's because I don't want to do anything else unless Nick is here with me.

I'm almost using her as a way to pass time to keep myself from going insane.

It's also been getting harder and harder for D every times Nick leaves.
When Nick is home, she gets severe separation anxiety.
The other day, Nick left the house for 5 minutes to go talk to our neighbors, and when she realized he wasn't in the house, she had a meltdown.
My heart hurts for her because I can't imagine being 3, and having the worry of "Is he coming back? Is he gone for good this time?"
That's a little much for a 3 year old to have to handle.

This morning our family woke up at 0400 to get Nick to the airport.
It was a somber morning.
I just sat in the dining room and watched Nick carefully pack the last of his belongings.
Dannika woke up so excited and full of life.
She kept asking, "Can I go to the airport too?!?"
At one point, I asked Nick if he wanted to pack his flip flops, and little D chimes in, "I want to take my flip flops too!"
I tried my best to mentally prepare her for Nick's departure.
I told her a million times that daddy had to go back to Boston, but that he'll be back again.
She doesn't quite get that Boston is 3000 miles away.
In her simple 3 year old mind, he's going down the road for a little while.

It's funny how when I had to drive to LAX to pick up Nick, the drive took FOREVER and a day, but dropping him off, the drive was too fast....too short....we were there in a blink of an eye.
My heart was calm the entire ride to the airport, until we arrived at the passenger drop off.
As soon as Nick got out of the car to grab his luggage from the trunk, D started begging me to take her out of her car seat.
Then I heard the tearful words....
"Mommy, I want to go with my daddy."

I'm pretty sure after we finally left (the last hug is never long enough and the last kiss is never passionate enough when you have to say bye), I cried halfway home.
D hates it when I'm upset.
She kept telling me, "Mommy, be happy! Don't cry. Daddy will be home soon, and he can come to my house again."

I hate the feeling of coming home to an "empty house".

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For the last 2 weeks, this house has been full of laughter, positive energy, XBox games, and home cooked meals every night.

Now we're back to a lonely place where I spend my nights going to bed as early as possible to make time go by faster and desperately trying to find things to fill a day with activities on the weekend to make up for lost time with D during the week when I'm working.

We got home super early, and since it's Labor Day, I figured I'd beat the afternoon traffic and do my "single lady" grocery shopping.

It was sad for me.

I usually love grocery shopping when Nick is home.

I feel like I have a purpose outside of just feeding myself when Nick is home.

I buy things thinking, "Man, I can't wait to make so and so for Nick. He's gonna love it!"

I love cooking, and most importantly, I love cooking for Nick.

I love the look on his face when he can smell something I'm cooking in the oven when he's starving.

When it's just for D and I, my thoughts are more along the lines of, "What can I make that is hassle free, healthy, and freezeable?"

I'm hoping to get more involved with community groups at church for support.

I really noticed that I was lacking a good strong Christian based support system to keep me accountable.

This time, I'm just going to try a little harder to be happier for me, and do more for me. 

So once again, I'm here alone to spend another holiday without my everything.

Gosh, I wish this life were easier.