Countdown to delay

The countdown had commenced as I was looking toward the finish line for deployment.  I had homecoming events planned to include making a birthday cake for my oldest just a few days late, a romantic night out with my husband, and of course, just being able to hold my baby boy in my arms again.  I packed my bags and left out only those items needed to maintain daily functioning here as I awaited my replacement so I could leave with my team.  Until the phone rang with my commander on the other end.

I had been warned prior to Easter that I might be extended by a week or two until my replacement could arrive.  I would miss the awards ceremony, and I would leave alone, but it would not be a long amount of time.  While that was difficult to hear, it still allowed me the opportunity to be home around Father’s Day.  I wanted to leave with my team, but if I had to stay, there were worst case scenarios.  My commander’s final words were, “I’m fighting for you not to have to stay.”  

The phone stayed silent and no further word was given until almost a month after that first phone call.  The first words from her mouth were, “If you had to stay, would you volunteer to extend?”  I wanted to say, “Are you actually listening to yourself?”  I was able to maintain military bearing enough to repeat back the question word for word to ask if that was what she meant.   My two weeks have turned into an unknown time frame and a whole new set of scenarios.  My team, who I have been blessed to work with, will leave and I start again with a whole new set of individuals.   My position and location are unknowns…. All that is known is that I am not coming home on time and that I will be asked to extend voluntarily again when the new commander assumes command.  I am now at the mercy of “the needs of the Army.”

My team is preparing to go.  I am in charge, so I get to prepare their paperwork for redeployment.  Screenings occur to help each individual as they return to their home station.  I watch feeling like part of the team and yet an outsider looking in.  When their final return date was announced, there was a wave of sadness that settled in.  I know they are going home and that I must stay.  That date would eventually come, and somehow, the knowledge of the finality of that date makes the process real… almost tangible.  I am remaining behind and I will say goodbye to my team.  The same team who helped me through this process and I with them.  Together, we were able to revitalize this mission and keep our little clinic going in some of the most adverse situations.  They have become my family.  I know they must leave as their time has ended, but that still does not mean that I will not miss them. 

In the Army, we all have a mission to complete on paper.  It is the basic tasks for the appointed position.  I have completed my paper mission.  I ran my 100 miles that I set as a goal for myself before my team went back.  I completed my other personal goals as well, but apparently there is still more work to be done in this city and my higher mission is not yet achieved.  God has His own time frame and He has a plan for me. 

Mission at Home

As Soldiers, we embark on a great journey.  We leave to accomplish a mission in an unknown environment.  Each day feels much like Bill Murray's never ending week from Ground Hog's Day and yet it provides enough change to feel fulfilling (or exhausting) at the end.  Prior to leaving I was told that it deployment equaled long days and short weeks as one muddles through the inevitable process. As married Soldiers, we are issued a new title while deployed: geographic bachelor.  We are allowed to attend programs sponsored by BOSS (Better Opportunities for Single Soldiers) and spend much of our time thinking about our spouses.  Deployments are hard on anyone, but I do believe the spouses have the hardest job of all.

Spouses have a much different challenge.  They are required to stay in the same environment that offers those familiar cues of a loved one being gone.  The second half of a bed is empty; a chair is open at the dinner table.  Chores and responsibilities are left behind for the other to assume. Everything must be done to accomplish the mission at home as well as supporting the Soldier down range with thoughts, emails, conversations and of course care packages to let them know you are thinking about him/her.  Many people think this is just like their loved one being on an extended business trip, which is very different than having someone deployed.

My husband has taken all of this in stride.  He has adapted his ability to cook and multi-task with two small children.  He has learned to take time out for himself and still is able to send an email (or a few) a day to remind me that he's thinking about me.  And I do the same.  We attempt to fill our spare time with moments of togetherness despite our distance of nearly 9,000 miles.  That distance is made shorter with the sound of laughter on the phone as another stressor or dilemma is discussed together.  It is conveyed with the reports of children's activities at home.  Little notes to of "good morning" to one as the other is preparing for bed.  It can even be shared through a movie that is watched together on our "date" as we discuss the movie plot through instant messaging and chatting.  I am in an area that does not allow me the opportunity to Skype due to bandwidth issues, but we at least have the ability to type out a message, call home at least once a week if not more, and just share a little bit of our time together despite the distance.  Ultimately, a military marriage takes creativity, patience, and understanding for the limitless amount of FRAGOs (changes) that occur in any given time.  It is not easy, but it will weather many things as long as there is the desire to complete both missions: at home and abroad.

"I'm not entertaining any more questions for 50 minutes!"

“Ma’am, what time is the event for the fire fighters?”  “Ma’am, we’ve got someone here asking about the ECU.”  "Ma'am, when do you want to schedule . . . " “Ma’am, how are we handling accountability versus confidentiality?”  “Ma’am, who’s doing the briefing at 1400?”  "Ma'am, are you listening to this conversation?  What do you think we need to do about it?"  

That's just a five minute look into my morning. Our morning meeting sets the tone for priority of business and my expectations for everyone.  After putting out the instructions, there is still more that I need to do.  It's incredible!  I never thought there would be so much to have to answer in one day about little things.  And then comes the practical joking and bantering that sounds some days like children bickering with the eventual, "Ma'am... did you hear that?"  It's like hearing, "MOM!!!  He took my truck!"  

Stress levels have been high with a really high OPTEMPO right now, so asking me to make little decisions actually forced the words out of my mouth, "I am not making another decision for 50 minutes... fight it out amongst yourselves or wait until I am entertaining questions again."  That so sounded like my Mom coming out of my mouth.  I really thought I had a few more years before I started to utter those dreaded phrases that we all know happens.  My boys will have already had me practice these skills on others much older than them.  I've heard parents wish they would have learned some of the lessons for their teenagers sooner so they could try it again.  I wonder if this counts as on-the-job-training in parenthood?

Experiencing What You "Need" the Most

It has often been said that the experiences you get are what you often need the most.  There may be a client that walks into your office with a problem that you had been struggling with for a while and finally find resolution while working with them.  Or you may have a difficult encounter that breaks you out of your everyday rut.  Deployment is no different.

I spent the last two and a half years in a training position.  My schedule was dictated for me.  My position was created.  I was a literal work-horse and due to being rated quarterly and having so many things dependent on how nicely I played with others, there was little room to speak up for anything.  I learned for two years to literally bend over and take it.  Deployment has given me that room to get outside that realm of just accepting what was proposed.

My clinic is working under my license; therefore, I make the decisions to what people are allowed to do and how much room they have to grow based on their skill level.  Unlike what I had been through in the past two years, I wanted to leave a very open line of communication with my techs to make sure they can see where I am coming from and asking them to do.  I have stated multiple times that I trust them, but if they feel something is over their head, please tell me and I will take the patient.  I want to model how I supervise from the supervisors that made the most impact on my training; not the ones I dreaded walking into supervision or did not want to staff a case due to the personality and attitude of the supervisor.

While I was an officer in my previous clinic, I was not in a true leadership position.  Being a leader for fellow captains is much different that being the officer in charge for the clinic.  I have learned so much since arriving that I never dreamed was possible.  I have developed a backbone so to speak, that has allowed me to really say what I expect to see happen.   I have been trained to be an officer through the ROTC program and throughout my time in the Army, but there was little room to use those skills.  Some cannot be taught, but just must be learned as time goes on.  I have been grateful to have two fantastic NCOICs (one here and one at my home station).  They are completely unaware, but each has helped me to develop into that role.  I can sit back and think about my last two years of training, and I knew walking into this environment that I was prepared to be a clinician in almost every setting (one scenario still threw me for a loop, but I knew who to contact for additional resources).  The best training I got did not happen until a few months before I left.  My NCOIC helped to show me exactly what I could expect from the 68Xs (behavioral health technicians) and what I could expect from my NCOIC.  In little ways, she was able to guide me toward that team approach with which I was unfamiliar.  I was used to doing all projects by myself, but she gently guided me to asking some of the techs around me to help.  I came here, and my NCOIC is picking up right where she left off.  He’s continuing to guide that path to form the command team. It’s already a small team for the clinic, but I now understand what is possible.   I know where my lane begins and ends and where his lane is as well.  I do believe the NCOs job is the hardest.  They are responsible for so much more than people give them create.  They look out for everyone below them and above them.  They make everything run, and anyone who does not give them credit for that is a fool!

I have also learned during this process how to stand up to those higher in rank than I am.  I have listened to multiple soldiers over the years tell me that they don’t really respect the higher ranking soldiers, they just see the rank.  I completely understand that right now.  I have always had good people in those higher positions.
Sometimes I wondered where they based their decisions, but I knew they made it to that rank for a reason.  Being deployed, I have learned that may not always be the case.  There are ways to stand up and say that what is proposed is not appropriate.  There are ways to hold one’s head up and keep driving on to fulfill the overall mission, not just the small momentary distraction.   It was not an easy lesson, but I learned that one quickly.  Everything must be learned quickly in this environment.

"Waiting Up"

I am the mother of a toddler and preschooler.  My typical worries include not letting them fall down the stairs, run in front of cars, and making sure they hold my hand when in public.  They may take a lot of energy from me, but for the most part, I can keep their little world safe.  I can make sure that the most dangerous items are out of reach and that I have insisted that they hold my hand and consequences occur to teach lessons.

In my deployed environment, I feel like the mother of teenagers. Those who are old enough to do their own thing, but still need to listen, check in their whereabouts, and call home to let me know they will be late.  Those little things mean all the difference.  When they are gone for longer than anticipated, I worry.  When they are late without any notice… I get irritated because I am worried.  When they are finally home, I’m relieved.  Normal worries would include parties, girls, drunk drivers, and other likely scenarios.  Here my thoughts are filled with other dangers, other possibilities.  I try to occupy myself with work or leisure items, until even those distractions do not allow me the opportunity to do something a bit different.  At home, I would be watching for headlights to pull into the drive or the sound of keys in the door.  Here, I'm listening to for the sound of a helicopter overhead as I anticipate their arrival.  I know they are armed and probably better trained than I am in some areas of soldiering, but that still does not decrease my level of worry until I hear that cheerful voice announcing their return. 

First Day of Preschool

There are certain moments in life that are always documented.  Among these are the first smile, first tooth, first step and other momentous occasions that symbolize a child is growing up.  Sometimes a deployed parent is unable to share in those occasions due to the distance and of course timing.  My oldest is starting preschool momentarily and I am not there to drop him off or get him ready in the morning.  I am separated by half the world from him.  I am not able to be there to give him a hug or hold his hand as we'd walk into the classroom together: all those dreams I had as a parent. I was able to do the second best thing: call him right before he went inside.  He is, of course, like his independent mother. I turned to my mother on the first day of kindergarten and told her "you can leave now" before ever reaching the inside of the classroom.  On the phone after talking only three minutes, he tells me, "Mommy, I can't talk, I have to go to preschool.  Bye."  On my end I can hear the calling card asking if I want to place another call and instead of being saddened by the loss of a conversation, I just have to laugh and think he is my kid.

There are so many stories about technology bridging the gap between service members and their loved ones, but that bridge is only as good as the technology in the area.  Our technology is a struggle at times.  The work phones have a 30 second delay.  It makes for comical conversations at times, but frustration when attempting to make a serious contact and talk about patient care issues.  I have learned to just ask commanders to come see me or walking to them instead of trying to communicate by phone.  The days of MASH communication still exists when you have to call one number to get an operator in the states, they transfer you to another number, and finally, you may be able to call the final destination.  It has felt like "Hey Sparky... I need you to patch me through to Hoboken.  He's got Tokyo... He's got Hawaii.... He's got San Francisco...." It is almost 60 years later, and our technology has not changed all that much.  When it does work, it is so nice to have a little moment that allows me to be that much closer to the current process.  It allows a little boy to know that even though "Mommy's at work" she still thinks about and loves her little boys just that much more.  Even a three minute phone call for an excited three year old just before his first day is well worth the struggle of calling!

Sunny Days

I love sunny days out here.  Those are the days where everyone finds something to do.  They don't need my services because command tends to get a little ray of sunshine deep inside and relax a little.  Soldiers can be found out doing their jobs and joking around.  Our signal guys are throwing a football around just next door and those sounds travel within my office as they either make a great catch or miss altogether. 

Sunny days allow me the opportunity to make a circle around our area to meet with those who I do not typically see.  Too often, the only people I see are those requesting my services.  They are asking for additional help.  They find me after church to ask a question or a "hallways consult" as I have gotten to call them. I don't find these on sunny days.  These are the days I can actually get away from my office and shake hands with those who do not need me as the psychologist just me... as another soldier.  I can throw the football around with them, and they don't want to ask a few questions of me.  These are the days I can see those who are healthy and just be one with others. 

Mom

I am Mom.  It really does not matter how far away I am in the world, there are few things that will get in the way of me still fulfilling that role.  I am the officer in my group, and my NCOs are typically the ones looking out for personnel and making sure they are taken care of the Mom in me still watches to see how they are responding to different situations.  Are they perky and happy as usual?  Are they moody?  Do they feel okay? I can be here to listen and offer support, and I can require that they participate in “mandatory fun” as I know that helps to get anyone out of their funk for a little bit.

While fulfilling the other half of my Mom role, I also still get those Mom questions a half a world away.  Some questions are easy to answer like “Do we have extra sheets, because everyone is sick in this house?” or “What can I give our son when he starts to feel better so that he continues to be on the mend?”  Some are harder like “When are you coming home Mommy?”  Since I know everyone is currently sick at home, there is nothing that I would like to do than to come home and be right there.  I would love the opportunity to snuggle with my little guys and read a book or try to keep them quiet while they continue to mend.  To be the one that makes that little bit of toast as the first attempt to see if their little tummies can tolerate that. For now, I have to be comfortable with calling and talking to them that way to see if at least hearing my voice can help to make them feel better.  And of course… I can solve that sheet problem by ordering a couple new sets so that in case this happens again, there is a reserve with Toy Story and Elmo sheets.

When rank gets in the way

Rank is such an interesting entity.  It speaks of our experience in the military as to an estimate for how many years one has served.  On average, a junior NCO will have been in the military about 5-7 years.  A second lieutenant has been in less than a year and a captain approximately 5 years. It conveys our sense of responsibility.   NCOs are responsible for their soldiers and their officer to make sure the personnel and logistical matters are attended to.  An officer is responsible for the decision making, planning, and coordinating.  We do not correct a soldier as that is an NCO’s job.  We depend on our NCOs to help us make the right decisions because they have the most amount of information to help with that process.

Rank can also become a hindrance.  All too often in a deployed environment, I meet an officer who has let the idea of their rank go to their head.  The idea truly becomes “what is in it for me?”   I listen to the regulations being quoted about how much space one is allotted, what responsibilities one must fill.  It is truly amazing to see some forget that they are human beings working as part of a team.  I do not expect a full bird colonel to clean the latrines.  When teams are small, it is important for everyone to help; to roll up their sleeves and make the work lighter for everyone. 

All too often in the last few days, I have been told by my soldiers that they “have it”.  They do not need my assistance.   I do not need to lend a helping hand.  I stopped my NCOIC at one point and asked what the problem was with me helping.  Was there something I had missed in my training that told me I should not be doing such things?  Is there an unwritten rule that I have missed stating that we are all one team until it gets down to filling coolers or lugging hot chow containers? I don’t understand.  I was told that it was not against the rules, but jokingly was told that I was stepping on enlisted toes.

Rank gets in the way of having social contacts as well.  I am battling coming in late to a deployment, so my detachment soldiers have their own schedules.  They disappear into their own worlds during off time. Head phones are on their ears while X-box and Play Station are played.  They spend much of their day together, joking and laughing.  Being the officer, my office is in a different location.  I am the only officer on the team that is around.  I am female. There are only six female officers on this FOB, which makes it so much harder to find someone to hang around with.  The other females are company commanders and hang out with the other company commanders.  They have friends.  I live in the same place I work.  I am alone most of the day and alone at night.  No wonder the previous person was so eager to get home.  Rank got in the way or wanting to hang out with others.  Rank got in the way or wanting to hang out with the team.

 

I miss the energy of my house.  I miss my kids running around, creating noise and chaos.  I miss having my husband there by my side to just watch a movie with or play cards or just talk.  I wished for just a little time to myself a little too often when I was home.  Now I have too much.

Missing cuddle time

Part of being a parent is being there for not just the smiles, but for the sleepless nights when someone is sick and just wishing for a little bit of snuggle time.  It may be 3 or 4 in the morning, but they just need to know that someone is there.  My youngest has always wanted me to come and snuggle during those wee morning hours.  And it must be sitting rocking in the chair in his room when he doesn't feel good.  He's always been someone who gets colds so hard, so we are extra careful in the house to wash hands after blowing noses and to get his oldest brother to do the same.  There are some times that we use a lot of soap in that house!

I got word this morning that my little guy has been up since 3 with Daddy.  I hate being this far away and not being able to hold him and rock him like he would prefer.  I miss being able to just have those snuggle moments, because he only wants that at night.  During the day, you wouldn't notice that he doesn't feel well.  Both of my boys have been that way.  Calling and talking on the phone to them is just not the same as being there to hold them and give them a kiss.  To tuck them in bed and make sure they don't have a fever.  My husband is doing a great job, but I still miss being the one that can snuggle them back to sleep and make sure they feel better.  I miss being Mom.