I wake up to a few text messages every morning.
“Want coffee? I’m hitting Dunkin’ Donuts before I see you at school.”
One message often reads, “Going to the store. Need anything?”
And sometimes, I’ll get the ever-necessary, “The kids are driving me crazy. Wanna make pizzas and watch movies at my house tonight? Better than being alone.”
Last week, I had a fellow military spouse invite me over for a playdate and give me her own bed to nap in while she watched the kids and popped popcorn, knowing I was pregnant, tired, and over deployment that week.
This is my everyday life.
My husband may be underwater and out of contact, but I am not alone. Ever.
My normal is a family that was thrown together out of sheer chance and a pinch of divine intervention.
My normal is a series of text messages checking on me, offering help, telling me a funny story, and empathizing that sometimes, this life can really suck.
My normal is my fellow military spouses.
It’s a friend I met at the library during my husband’s first deployment, who has come and rescued me from a giant snake in my garage that had me paralyzed in fear.
It’s a friend who made me corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick’s Day and then held my hair while I threw it all up after morning sickness took hold.
It’s a friend who hosted a garage sale with me and dragged tables full of junk in and out of the surprising 5 a.m. rain storm, with babies on our backs still sleeping in footy pajamas, both our husbands deployed.
This is what being a military spouse looks like.
It can be lonely and frustrating, and sometimes, even a little apocalyptic.
But it’s also the only life where we find such a safety net. Because though we are lonely, we are not alone.
Though we are frustrated, we are always supported.
And though the world can often seem like it’s crashing down around us, there’s always another fellow milspouse there, holding a broom and sweeping up the rubble while handing you the ziti for the dinner you forgot to cook.
When I moved to Georgia, the biggest fear I had was that we didn’t have a Target in this town.
It’s laughable now, but I was worried that when things would inevitably get boring, I wouldn’t be able to entertain myself without the Target dollar section.
And then I realized what it meant to live among women and men living my life, bumps and bruises included, every single day.
There’s always someone to call. Someone to make sandwiches for dinner with. Someone to meet at a park or a pool or a play place.
When I had a miscarriage, I told my military spouse friends first. When my kids are sick, they are the first ones I text.
I don’t have guilt when asking them for help or venting.
I know they’ve been there and will be there, and soon enough, I’ll be the one rushing to the pharmacy to fill their prescription and buy them some chicken soup for their dinner.
It’s an unspoken creed; it’s a code. It’s an honor to serve them like they’ve served me.
And while I wouldn’t be here without my husband and his career, even he doesn’t get what it’s like to be a military spouse.
We are our own force.
We come and go out of each other’s lives, sad to be leaving and scared the magic won’t happen again at our new base or station.
And then it does. And the fear goes away and once more we are swept up in honoring, serving, and protecting each other while our spouses leave to do their jobs, not understanding but counting on that safety net; that force we are as military spouses.
That is why I love being a military spouse.
It is a strength and fraternity unique to our paths, to the way we serve.
And because of it, I have met so many amazing women and men who walk alongside me every day, holding me up while I support them in return.
The beauty of the web of support, and that we all weave, is what keeps this life bright and happy, rather than sad and lonely.
It’s a love like no other, disguised often in a much-needed cup of coffee on a rushed school day morning.
