Well, where to start? Our lives are well.... complicated. And simple. All at once. Let me explain.....
My husband and I met a long time ago (well, long to us) when we were both in high school. We had a brief friendship. It wasn't anything significant, really at the time. He graduated in 2000 and we lost touch, unfortunately and I never really thought of him again until 2002. It was my senior year and I was set on going into the Marine Corps. We had weekly meetings with the recruiter and on one of these meetings, I saw a familiar face in the parking lot. He had just gotten out of bootcamp and there was an instant connection between us. We started dating and very, very quickly, we became engaged. We were married in April and I graduated in June. I decided not to join the Marine Corps and cancelled my contract.
Things in the beginning were great, just as every marriage starts. We were young, we were in love and we didn't care. We decided to start a family right away and I quickly became pregnant with our daughter. My husband was so excited to have a daughter first. He would sit and talk to my belly and poke at her to see her move. Our life was idyllic.
During this time, he had to be away for short periods of time here and there for training exercises. Which sucked, of course, and in the back of my mind I always knew what the training was leading up to. He was a warrior. He signed up to fight. I knew that. I just didn't acknowledge it.
We knew that the Iraqi war was iminent. We knew that there was a strong chance that he would be sent. We knew. We just didn't plan.
When I was seven months pregnant, my husband was sent to combat. The night before he left, we laid in bed together, just holding each other and we cried. The possibilities of what he would face was in both of our minds. The danger that was waiting hung over our heads. His best friend drove him and I up the hill to his batallion the next morning and we said goodbye. I didn't cry. I couldn't. I didn't have anything left to cry. We got into the car and we drove away. We came home to a safe apartment and my husband was sent to hell.
He was gone four months. Four very long months. Our daughter was born on March 20. The day that the Marines crossed into Iraq. I lay in the hospital bed, struggling to bring her into the world, watching the news between contractions hoping to hear any news, hoping maybe, just maybe the cameras would flash on his face. It was a difficult delivery and she was born with the cord around her neck. She wasn't very responsive and the dr's had to give her oxygen and rub her, but she came around and that first cry should have brought me joy, but all I felt was sorrow. There in that hospital room, I began our family. Alone.
She was a fussy baby from the start and all I could think about was how much she must have missed her daddy's voice. On her second day of life, she developed a high fever. It turned out that she was severely dehydrated. My milk was late in coming in and she wasn't latching correctly. They took her down to the special care nursery and I locked myself in the bathroom in the waiting room and I sobbed. We were going to lose her and she hadn't even met her daddy. She was on IV fluids and antibiotics and she recovered. She was six days old when we left the hospital.
My husband came home two months later. He looked different. He smelled different. He was different. It wasn't as noticeable at first. His reactions were odd. He had trouble sleeping. But, nothing significant right away. As time went on, I noticed more and more that he wasn't the same. He didn't want to hold our daughter. He was afraid of hurting her. His temper was shorter. If I brushed up against him while he slept, he jumped. Sometimes, he jumped straight out of bed. He stopped bringing me flowers. Which was something that he had done every day before he left.
He wasn't diagnosed with PTSD until 2010. It took seven years to get that diagnosis. We had known for a long time that we were dealing with PTSD, but to hear a dr. confirm it, well, it validated our thoughts and it brought to light the lifelong struggle that is ahead of us.
So, there's the beginning of our lives, in a nutshell, minus two other kids, many moves and a flock of chickens.
