Tomorrow

Tomorrow.
It's amazing how differently you can feel about the word "tomorrow". Some days it can bring on dread, elicits excitement, or other days it's not a big deal.


Two years ago exactly, "tomorrow" was one of the best words I had spoken in 11 months. "Tomorrow" meant I had only hours until I got to hold my husband again. "Tomorrow" was the end of a never-ending deployment and it meant I got my best friend back. Tomorrow never held as much promise as it did then.


January 30th, 2013 was one of the best days of my life. I still get misty-eyed when I think about to all those feelings spiraling around inside of me. I don't even think there are words in the English language to describe it.

(Photo done by Lisa Kunkel of Lisa Kunkel Photography)

Wes's deployment was 11-months of learning for me. Learning to be on my own yet learning that I had someone there to support me and "be there" when I need them to be. It was a huge growing experience and something I'm thankful I had the chance to experience. I never want to go through it again though. Ever. And I won't ever go through the hell like I did in 2012. Even if there are future deployments, none of them will compare to what I personally endured then.

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I don't talk about Wes's deployment much anymore. Probably because I still cry when I think back on it. I by no means went through what Wes did, but I endured my own personal hell. I often joke around with Wes that I'm the one that got PTSD. Although, I'm honestly only half joking, and I think he knows that.


I think the hardest part of the whole thing surrounds the time I had Darik. What should have been an extra-joyous time in our lives was one of the most damaging in our marriage. The birth of Darik was rather significant in the fact that I had previously lost our first son together 4 years before and we had been wanting a son ever since (my oldest is my son from a previous relationship). We had hoped and prayed for this little boy. I had dreams before he was even conceived about how wonderful he was going to be (gifts from the baby we lost, I believe). I had a birth plan all ready to go for when I hopefully went into labor and we had a plan we had gone over at least 3 times with our doctor on how we were going to get Wes home so he could meet our baby boy. It was all ready.... or so we thought.

Nothing went as planned. Nothing. I went into labor a week before my due date (I had to be induced with my 3 previous births). I didn't expect that at all. I thought we were going to have to kick this baby out like we did the other cling-ons. My dr was on a family vacation and I was having to see another dr I didn't know. I ended up laboring all night long and got stuck at 9.5 for FOUR AWFUL hours! Who the hell gets stuck at 9.5 with their 4th kid?! Com'mon man!!! I had no support. My mother who had only had C-sections was the best advocate she could be but still didn't know how to get things done. I was in horrendous pain and my poor husband was helplessly watching me from a computer screen half-way across the world.

The call to the Red Cross to get Wes home wasn't going as planned and we had to try again (to which my clueless mother was trying to do). It wasn't an "emergency" but I desperately needed him home. It wasn't a "want", it was a "need." Then when the fill-in dr filled out the paperwork for Wes to get home, he marked the wrong damn box saying it was up to the military to decide if he were to come home, not "dr recommended". We had him fill out another one which he never sent off. By the time we found out and tried to get him to send off again, it was too late.


Our small window to get Wesley home had shut closed. He wasn't going to be able to meet his son until he was 6 months old.

I failed. I failed getting my husband home. I failed in getting the support I so needed.

After it all went down, the dr came into my room and told me that if I really wanted Wes home, I could say I had postpartum depression and was feeling suicidal. Seriously?! The only way this dr was going to help us is if I threatened to kill myself?! Are you kidding me?! Not that I wasn't already being pushed into a deep depression, but he wanted me to potentially threaten the welfare of my kids! This man was NUTS!

As a mom of a newborn, you know how scary that that first year is. The fear of SIDS hangs over your head until the wonderful 1st birthday happens. And to top it off, our son had severe eczema that we thought was due to allergies. I was in and out of all sorts of drs offices with tons of conflicting answers. My son's body was covered in a rash that ended up turning into scabs because he would scratch until he bled. All I had to do was have this baby make it 'till his daddy got home. Because if Wes never got to meet another son of his, I don't think I could ever live with myself.

Thankfully our little Darik is a super healthy little man and he was there to greet his daddy when he stepped off that airplane on January 30th, 2012. That moment when I handed Darik over to Wesley the first time, I had this huge "weight" lift off my shoulders.

(photo by Lisa Kunkel of Lisa Kunkel Photography)

I did it. My husband got to meet his son! I did it!!!

Wes and I still don't talk about Darik's birth. We never have. It's still too raw for both of us. We both know how we feel about it but nothing good will come from that discussion. Nothing about those events can be changed. Maybe some day we will be able to talk about it.... maybe.

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Tomorrow, I'm going to surprise Wesley and dress up in the dress I wore on his homecoming and take him out to a nice dinner and a movie he's been wanting to see. Ironically, he wants to see "American Sniper." We can celebrate how we made it through the toughest part of our lives and grew together because of it. We overcame it.

Tomorrow, we are going to celebrate us.