By Tiffany Shedd

After I earned my graduate degree in 2004, my thoughts were on finding a job or getting into a Ph.D. program. Little did I know, I was only a few days away from meeting my future husband and having my world, and my idea of home, completely rocked. Ten years later, we’ve crisscrossed the country as we PCSed from Fort Campbell, KY to Fort Wainwright, AK and back to the east coast to Fort Bragg, NC.

Our latest PCS brought us to Aberdeen Proving Grounds, MD. This was our toughest move. It was our shortest PCS, distance-wise, so you’d think it would have been a breeze. But, we had one major difference this time. Our son was born a week before my husband was to report for duty. And we were closing on our first home, which needed a lot of work before we could bring a newborn into it.

Luckily, we had a lot of help, and things went as smoothly as they could.

I came to motherhood later in life than most of my friends and most of the spouses I’ve met during my time as an Army wife. We were usually the odd couple out, because we didn’t have kids. It seemed like this made it tougher to meet and make friends with each move. I thought that our son would be our instant friend finder. What I found was that I was just too tired to even care about finding friends for the first year we were here.

During my son’s first year of life, everything seemed to go smoothly. We felt lucky compared to some of the horror stories we’d heard. He spoiled us by sleeping through the night at a month old (I mean from 7 p.m. until almost 7 a.m. most nights). He did seem to turn into a little monster while teething, but luckily, that only lasted a couple of weeks at a time.

My little man and I settled into our routines in our new home. Everything went along smoothly for almost a year. Then, one day, he didn’t respond to me in the way he normally did. He seemed to be in a daze. It didn’t last long, but it was odd. I was worried, but didn’t know what was causing this. He did this several times over the next couple of weeks.

My husband went TDY for a few weeks in August, so my little man, who’d just turned 10-months-old, and I went to visit my family. We were getting ready for the day and little man was crawling around, and then all of a sudden, he wasn’t. It was as if he’d forgotten how to crawl. He started crying, but then he was just limp and unresponsive. I immediately picked him up and tried to get him to respond. He snapped out of it after about 30 seconds.

I mentioned these episodes to his PCM on our next well baby visit. She did not seem too worried about them, but she did note them in her notes.

A month later, I was home alone again and my husband was TDY, again. Little man was crawling around, and all of a sudden, just flopped forward. He picked himself up but just flopped over again. I picked him up, thinking he was really ready for his nap. He had a thousand yard stare and stopped responding to my voice. His eyes got really wide and his muscles went rigid. Then, he started convulsing. His little body jerked violently and he stopped breathing. I have never felt more helpless in my entire life. I was not calm. I did not realize what I was witnessing. I just wanted my baby to be ok.

To make a very long and scary story short, after a rough couple of weeks and being admitted to the hospital several times, my son was diagnosed with epilepsy. With medication, we were able to get the seizures under control in about a month. Luckily, the medications work, and he has been seizure free for nearly seven months.

Once we had a diagnosis, our journey to getting our son into the Exceptional Family Member Program began. Funnily, my son’s PCM was one of the people responsible for getting the program started in the 1980s. She suggested that we get the process going, because sometimes it can take a while to get all of the paperwork filled out and processed. She also told us that the DD Form 2792, the official 13-page document you must fill out with your PCM, is a far cry from the original one page document.

I asked if we were required to enroll in the program and she said it is a mandatory enrollment program. If you’re like me, you may not like the feeling of being forced to participate in a program that you know little about. But with a little research and reassurance, I came to the conclusion that this was what was best for my son and our family.

According to the Army Medical Department, the EFMP is supposed to be a comprehensive, coordinated, multi-agency program that provides community support, housing, medical, educational and personnel services to military families with an EFM. Basically, this just means that if your spouse is given orders to some very remote post, without proper medical facilities within a reasonable distance, you and your child may not get the option of accompanying them. It’s a tough choice, but if you’re like me, you will do anything to make sure that your child receives the best and quickest medical attention possible.

We started this process in mid-April, and we’re still working on getting into the program. It takes time, and with budget cuts and understaffing issues, it takes more time. If your child needs to get enrolled, start early. Do not wait until a month before you need to PCS.

 I hope to be able to help some of you through this process as we try to get through it ourselves. I look forward to writing each month and helping other spouses by answering questions that you may not even know you had.

I don’t know anyone who owns a map. 

Heck, I’m starting to think I don’t know anyone who owns a GPS that isn’t embedded in their car or their cell phone.

I’m not sure people read travel magazines anymore and I’ve never been in a visitor’s center along a highway chock full of people looking for brochures on what to do, where to eat and how long to drive til the next landmark.

And now, when you move to a new town, you don’t go to community meetings or the city’s welcome center looking for a new church, new take-out Chinese place or new pre-school for your kids. 

You ask on Facebook.

When we moved here just three years ago, I tentatively joined a Facebook group for wives married to sailors stationed at this tiny base and in this tiny town. I never posted, but lots of other people did.

They asked about everything under the sun: commissary hours; rates for drop-in childcare at the base daycare; what military housing was like for officers.

People made friends and got tips on that site all day long.

And here we are, three years later, and that Facebook group is still going strong.  Except it’s been joined by at least eight other groups, all for wives married to sailors stationed at this tiny base and in this tiny town.

In three years alone, the importance of Facebook – and its use as the main way military spouses get their information about, well, everything – has grown.

And so, sometimes, if you frequent those pages, you’ll see something rather odd come across your screen.

Like yesterday, when someone asked what they should do about their husband, who just after he was promoted, revealed to his wife that he was a cross-dresser.

I think I re-read the post 40 times to make sure that I was reading it correctly. And verify that this wasn’t some horrible joke.

But no. There it was plain as day. With her full name and photo attached to it. 

There’s been a big mess as of late that Facebook has overstepped privacy bounds; that they’ve gone too far with an app for cellular devices; that it’s dangerous how much information they put out there about Facebook users.

But what happens when the Facebook users put too much out there themselves?

Especially when it could affect their husbands’ careers? Their own credibility? Their public safety or the safety of those serving around them?

Social media makes it very easy to cross the line between personable and personal.  In fact, it seems we have created a chronic environment of over-sharing.

But for military spouses, it isn’t just a matter of embarrassing yourself.

It’s startling enough that it can set off a chain reaction that could alter personal and operational security.

And yet, the rest of the world is doing it.

But should we?
 

Oh, I can smell them in the air – freshly sharpened pencils, paper just out of the package, fresh-cut hair on the kiddos. Yes, it’s back to school.

It’s no secret that I’m not a huge fan of summer. No, I crave routine, structure, predictability. Summer is, well, anything but that. We’ve had an insane little summer full of writer’s conferences, hockey camp, visiting family and Army Kid Camp, all while juggling visitations for our foster daughter and planning our upcoming PCS.

But it’s coming – crisp fall mornings warmed by coffee, the kiss of an eager child out the door for his first day. So are the after-school hugs, when the boys are excited to see each other after being separated all day. The dinner conversations that bounce between them like a ball, the animated hands as they tell each other, and us, how each of their days went. There’s nothing more precious to me than those moments, when they show their individuality, the moments they exist outside this house. It’s when they’re separate that we get to see who they really are.

The start of school feels more like a new year to me than New Year’s day. It feels fresh with possibility. As the kids embrace their new challenges, we do too. My husband is headed to Advanced Course, and then he’ll complete the rest of his college classes to finish his bachelor’s degree. I’m tinkering with the idea of heading back for my master’s degree, well, if there were another four hours in the day. But with the start of school, opens up a few more of those kid-free hours, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to that a little bit.

With a few short hours, I can work on a new novel, edit an existing one, heck, go for a much-needed run. I have more time to dedicate to our little gal, and hey, when I clean the kitchen after breakfast, it might actually stay clean until after school! Yes, I love my kids. I love being a mom. I love board games and playdough. But I also have to love myself so I can be the best mom possible. Those precious hours where there’s just the two of us girls in this house give me time to relish quiet so I can enjoy the loud later. They let me get my work done so I don’t have to say, “One more minute,” to my precious, tiny humans.

PCS’ing mid-school year is a wee bit tricky, but these hours they’re away help me prep for that too, so I can give them the smoothest transition possible, when and if we clear up our foster-daughter’s future.

Sure, the mornings are early, the lunches are pre-planned, and the pace can be grueling. After all, with the start of school comes a new hockey season and a new year of Boy Scouts. But there’s something about the fall that inspires me and brings organization to the forefront of my cluttered brain. I miss my kids during the day. I wonder what they’re doing, how they’re acting, what they’re up to. But those hugs I get when they run back through our doors? Those are precious. Hearing them tell me about what they learned, the friends they’ve made, seeing them thrive - that’s what the new school year is about to me.

So welcome back to the alarm clock, the automatic brew on the coffee. Welcome back hoodies and turning leaves. Welcome back to yellow busses, new backpacks and school supplies.

We’re going to rock this school year.  

I read a terrifying study a few weeks back. It determined that babies born at military hospitals were twice as likely to be injured during delivery.

In my tiny Navy town, this news brought about quite the brouhaha.

The closest military hospital to us is almost an hour away and well beloved by many. It’s certified as “baby-friendly,” meaning, it is a more natural, infant-centered practice than a mainstream hospital.

And the military moms who make the drive to deliver there love it.

Though our local hospital, staffed by civilian obstetricians and nurse-midwives, is also quite popular, the closest military hospital holds quite the allure for many pregnant moms who want their birth completely covered by Tricare, with some options.

So, when that startling statistic was released, people did get up in arms a bit.

And then, the war stories started rolling in.

Someone, knew someone, who had a friend, who had a niece who died during a Pap smear exam at the military hospital.

And, someone, knew someone, who had a sister, who had a son who went in for a routine round of antibiotics and ended up with a lopped off leg.

And before you knew it, people were terrified of military doctors.

It’s ironic, really, that I care. I intentionally keep my kids on Tricare Standard so I can choose their pediatrician, and I have delivered both my children out of a hospital – military or otherwise – and paid a tiny co-pay, so I could choose who caught my girls when they were born.

That’s my choice, and I’m glad I have it.

But if I didn’t have that choice, and the military hospital was my closest, “baby-friendly” option, would I be concerned?

I thought about this long and hard. While we aren’t ready for baby number three yet, we have started talking about it. And where we would deliver him or her? And how much it could cost us? And if my husband will be home? And if he’s not, who will be there? 

You know, the normal, military-family conception chat.

And while I had considered the military hospital as a viable option prior, what with all the amazing birth stories I’d heard coming out of it as of late, I was wondering if I should reconsider.

First off, I do understand that military doctors aren’t competing for patients like civilians are. They don’t have to give you as much leeway, and they aren’t always known for being as accountable to the patient since they work in a military system.

But at the same time, it’s an option. It’s a free, affordable option. This particular military hospital has low intervention rates, a low C-section rate and is known for supporting natural birth and the mother’s choice. It’s clean, and, it’s safe.

Heck, in that recent study that scared the pants off everyone else, it might just be the outlier.

It’s hard to know what to think. We’ve all heard horror stories, but we’ve also heard good ones, too. 

Perhaps it depends on the patient. Or the particular doctor.  Or the hospital you’re using. 

Maybe it isn’t a military issue at all.

But it’s still a scary decision. And it’s a decision I’m unsure I’m prepared to make at this time.

So, for now, maybe we’ll just stick with two kids.

I have a confession. I am not a perfect military spouse. I may not even be a very good one. My realization came last year over the holidays when I could not make cookies. And it made me cry. A grown adult, mother of two, crying over cookies. Let me explain.

When my husband and I moved here and he took his new billet, I really thought I would be able to be more involved. I was getting settled and my boys were on a routine and I was feeling great. There were so many ways to be involved and being new to the battalion was a great opportunity to jump in and be that supportive, active military wife I had always wanted to be.

Summer came and I attended a meeting or two, went to a couple of functions and felt really positive about how things were going. Invitations came in for events and I quickly RSVP’d - yes! Then, life happened.

Just as I began volunteering and getting into a new routine, my kids got sick. And then we had family visit. And a birthday. Repeat this cycle a few more times. Life got busy. I know there are families who have more than two kiddos but all I know is what it is like to have two boys, ages 3 and 1 ½. And they are busy. And fun. But so incredibly busy and exhausting.  

So between volunteering and keeping up with grocery shopping, housework and life in general, I have not been the model military spouse.

So, back to the cookies. My husband’s battalion had about 50 Marine’s returning home from a deployment and another group preparing to deploy. It was a great opportunity to bake or bring in items to give to the Marines coming or going as a small token of appreciation for all they do.

All I have to do is bake cookies. Easy right? My son and I had made cookies months earlier for the same cause. He really enjoyed helping me make treats for the Marines. Since I hadn’t been able to make a lot of functions lately I thought this would be a nice way to contribute in a small way.

The week goes on and I have all the ingredients I need except for butter. A teething, miserable, independent, crabby toddler in the store with an independent and sassy 3-year-old who has not napped is a disaster, if you didn’t already know.

Strangers give us the look that says, “Why on Earth would you bring them out in public?” Or they say, “Wow, they are close in age, you have your hands full!” If had a quarter for every time I heard that I would be rich and able to pay for someone to grocery shop for me. 

Anyway, I get the butter and we attempt to make cookies during little guy’s nap since they are needed tomorrow. I must make them and have them ready to go so my husband can take them in with him to work. Perfect. Easy.

Then, I burned the cookies.

Big little guy went to the bathroom, needed help and I flushed the toilet. You never, ever flush Big little guy’s business down the toilet. A 10-minute meltdown ensued, which led to a much needed trip to his room for a nap.

I forgot about the cookies. They burned.

So I cried.

I cried because I ruined the cookies. I cried because I sometimes get mad at my husband for working late at night even though I know it isn’t his fault. I cried because secretly I daydream about a “civilian” life. I cried because sometimes I fake my excitement when my husband comes home, excited about his next mission and when and where it may take him. I cried because sometimes I wish I could close my eyes and go back to our first duty station with our best friends and our house on base. I cried because as much as I would like to say “yes” to every event and military function, my family keeps me busy and there are days I can’t find a way to get anywhere. I cried because sometimes I forget the names of people who work with my husband or I forget their rank. Or forget what acronym means what.

Some women are amazing and can do it all. I am finally realizing, that most days I can’t get my mom/wife “duties” together let alone military spouse ones. I am not perfect. And that’s ok.

I didn’t get to contribute cookies this time, but it doesn’t mean I have failed as a military spouse. At this moment, my family comes first. Some days are great, some not so great. It was one bad day. I have a feeling I will have lots of time in my husband’s military career to be more active.

For now, I will do what I can, when I can. I am finally learning I can’t be everything for everyone at all times. Little by little I’ll get the swing of it all. Better late than never!

On our kitchen calendar, there’s an eight day block of time this month with the words “Mommy at Conferences.” As soon as I wrote those with a dry erase marker, our four little boys dropped their jaws.

“Where are you going?”

“When are you coming back?”

“But I have a field trip that day!”

“Who is going to take care of us?”

I raised my eyebrows at them and simply answered, “Daddy will be here with you.”

The looks I got were a mix of skepticism and excitement. After all, mommy makes them eat vegetables with dinner and do crazy things like bring the laundry downstairs. But dad? Well, he’s the unknown. He’s always the fun parent when we’re co-captaining the ship, but they’ve never been left all alone with him before for longer than a day or two.

I’ve always been the one running the Avenger Initiative when he went away to work.

But now, my head is swimming. Do I prep meals in advance? Do I make sure all the laundry is done? Do I leave it all up to him and then secretly place a nanny camera in the living room? I have to admit, the last idea has a wee bit of merit.

We’d been expecting a four day trip, but when I needed to extend the time due to another conference being held directly after the first, I told my husband, “It looks like I need eight days split between Nashville and Las Vegas.”

Of course his first reaction was, “Wait, you’re going to Vegas without me?”

To which I kind of grimaced and said, “Looks like it.”

His eyes flew wide, and he said, “You’re leaving me for eight days?”

Seriously?

“You just left me for nine months,” I replied, and then reminded him of the previous three deployments which were each a year. “I think if you can handle terrorists, you can handle our five kids.”

At that moment, a war broke out between our middle boys that would have made Chuck Norris proud. And I think my husband suddenly may have been preferred to face the terrorists. That reminds me, I need to leave him a striped shirt and a whistle.

So he’s taking leave, and spending those days with our kids, giving me the opportunity to further my career, and I couldn’t be more thankful. In this military life, I’ve often found myself putting my needs behind his. After all, we PCS for his career, he has an unpredictable schedule, and he tends to spend massive amounts of time overseas, or at schools or trainings – none of which he can help. My job has always taken a back seat because that’s how our family has needed to live to function.

But when I signed my book deal, our lives shifted dramatically, and we became a two-career household. When Jason takes these days off to be a stay-at-home dad it means more than him supporting my career, it’s showing me that he’s capable of putting my career first when the situation calls for it. Without a better way to say it, I’m so incredibly thankful to him for the love and the support he shows.  And yes, I know it’s not fair that he goes to work in Afghanistan while I meet my colleagues in Las Vegas.

So for once, it will be me Skyping in to see our babies and wondering how he’s doing. Would it be fun to secretly hide a little nanny cam? Sure, but I won’t. Not because I don’t want to see him losing his mind between ninja fights, diaper changes and homework (a small, evil voice inside me lets loose with a grin when I think about this), but because part of me is scared that he won’t. Part of me is terrified that he might actually run this house better than I do. In which case, I guess I’ll bring home a bottle of wine and beg him to be the Yoda to my Skywalker. Or I’ll just ask what he bribed the kids with. 

I’m leaving for a week, and I’m nervous, but I know he’s got this. After all, I trust him in the same way he trusts me – wholeheartedly. But if anyone wants to sneak by and take pics of how he’s doing our daughter’s hair … well, I’d definitely go for a giggle there. Those curls may be the death of him.

Good luck, babe. May the force be with you. By the power of Grayskull, cowabunga, and autobots roll out. Enjoy your daddy-only week. Their superhero capes are hanging in the toy room, and there might just be a daddy-sized one ready and waiting. You’ve got this and I miss you already.

The television is my company when my husband is deployed.

After my kids are in bed, and my dishes are done, and I’ve answered e-mail and written my husband, the television is background noise. It helps me feel like I’m not really alone in those waning hours of the day.

I can fold laundry with the television’s distraction. I can write my husband yet another letter about the hum of life while he’s gone. And I can do it all while the TV talks and fills the house with light and sound.

It’s not like having another person to talk back to you, but it’s something.

But recently, things are a bit different. I find myself tucking little, pajama'd, freshly bathed heads to bed, Tupperwaring the dinner leftovers, mopping up marinara sauce from the floor, and then, oddly enough, I don’t reach for the remote.

Sometimes, I still fold laundry. Or write e-mails. Or stitch a hole in a teddy bear or paint little wooden figurines for my daughter’s birthday present. I make a cup of tea or get some work done. Take a shower. Shave my legs. Whatever needs to be done, I do.

But now, I do it in silence.

Maybe it’s because I no longer have a baby, my youngest now clearly in toddler mode and screeching and chatting just as much as her big sister.

Maybe it’s because that, after two and half years at this base, we know a lot of people. We are extremely active in the community. Our house can be a revolving door of visitors, meetings, and play dates. And when it’s not, we aren’t here, either, preferring to go and do and meet and play and be out in this place we live. A lot.

Or maybe it’s just because I’ve grown accustomed to the rhythm of being alone in the evenings. I’m not really sure.

All I know is, now, I’ve been enjoying the silence a little more.

A peaceful, quiet house. The sounds of sleep and my feet padding along finishing the day’s work.

It’s the sound of a book that I saved for deployment, which I might be able to read now.

The sound of sleep, coming shortly on the horizon.

I must be honest and admit I have struggled to write these blog entries lately. Not because life has slowed down any and I am lacking in material, but because I feel guilty that we are in a pretty normal routine lately.

I cringe at using the word normal because I am not quite sure what that means. I remember feeling this way almost two years ago, in Virginia, when my husband was going to school. We weren’t experiencing any deployments, work-ups, curse of the car breakdowns or major appliances malfunction. Currently, most of my chaos comes from just being a stay-at-home mom whose husband happens to work long hours and who has his phone attached to his hip, day and night. Oh and he occasionally travels out of the country for a month at a time, is not really able to tell me exactly what he does and sometimes jumps out of planes. That’s normal right?

For us, it feels the most normal we have been since we began this military journey eight years ago. I feel settled, which is funny because two months ago I didn’t feel this way. I have struggled in the last year as I decided what was going to help me feel settled and complete outside of my role as a military spouse and mom.

I briefly thought about continuing my education and thought pursuing this lifelong goal had to happen at this very moment. I had to “be something” other than mom and Marine wife to gain the success I have always wanted. Maybe that would help me feel like I had control in this crazy life.

But I put school on the back burner to pursue employment instead. I have yet to act on this decision since deciding and talking about it a couple weeks ago. In the meantime, I am really trying to embrace the luxury I have been given - I am a military spouse and stay-at-home mom. For a long time, I have felt that wasn’t enough in my life. I didn’t feel successful. But that is something successful … that is two jobs and two things I can be successful at!! Not everyone has that opportunity - to be married to a Marine or soldier and be able to stay home with their children. Whether I want to admit it or not, I made both of these choices. Unfortunately it has taken me a lot of self-reflection and time to not only admit that but embrace it. And most important, be proud of it.

When I met my husband almost 12 years ago, I had no idea what our future would hold. When we graduated college and moved out of state together, I never imagined the military would be a way of life for us. I wanted to go to graduate school and be successful in my career (whatever that meant). When I said yes to my husband’s marriage proposal, I accepted all that came with him - including this military career he had yet to begin. It was a rocky and eye opening experience at first but it was foreign to both of us and we traveled the path together. It has been almost eight years now and it has become our way of life. I can’t imagine living any other way.

And it wasn’t that I was not proud of being a military spouse during the trials and tribulations. I was. I am!! But I have let it prevent me from being truly happy with where I am in my life.

There was a time when I dwelled on the anniversaries that we missed together or the birth of our first son while daddy was deployed or the many first milestones that were recorded in my husband’s absence. At the time, going through those days were sad and definitely challenging but they made me stronger and I believe I am a better person because of it.

I have been fortunate enough to have my husband home for many memories and milestones during the last three years. I couldn’t be more thankful for that. We all go through tough days, tough months, gosh some even tough years. All that matters is where you let it take you.

At the end of the day, you can let it break you or you can choose to be stronger. Today, I chose to be stronger and happier. I know our “normal” could very well change at the drop of a hat and if it does, we will take it one day, one breath at a time. But for now, I will embrace our normal.

Life, military or not, is too short to sweat the small stuff. At the end of the day, I gave it my best and my family deserves that. Some days that may mean no time to shower or hotdogs for dinner because of meetings for volunteering, errands and swim lessons. But if I made my family smile that day, it’s a success. If I gave them one memory to treasure, that is a success! And I am proud of that!

My husband is home after a month long TAD. It was our longest time apart since the birth of our second son, a year and a half ago. I admit, in the past I have often compared my life as a military spouse and mother to that of a single parent. From sun up to sun down, I do it all when it comes to the house and kids. We welcome dad as a dinner guest when he can make it. But after the last month, I can honestly say that although my husband was not physically present with our kids as much as we would like, I am far from a single parent.

Leading up to this TAD, I really thought I had everything under control. I wasn’t even sweating my husband being in a different country for a few weeks. The two months leading up to the trip were filled with some long work hours so I figured I was already used to being solo Monday thru Friday, what would a few extra days be like? Difficult but clearly manageable. Right? It’s only a month! Chick flicks on the DVR were saved, wine and breakfast for dinner were on my agenda. I could do this.

I was not prepared for the amount of long days, stress and illnesses that took over our house. The first week I barely slept three hours a night. We had a leak in our ceiling, in our new house, and our builder did not return my call for four weeks. Our cat (who is the source of our allergies I would later learn) had a new bad habit of climbing and breaking things and managed to ruin a wall - and all of our family pictures. The dog ran away (make a mental image of me carrying our 30-pound toddler and 30-pound dog down the street while screaming at my 3-year-old to bring me a leash). My toddlers turned into picky eaters and dinner after dinner went untouched. Then we got the stomach bug. One by one, we all went down. And it’s only been two weeks. No to mention the weather. Oh the cold, rainy weather!!! I couldn’t catch up. Laundry piled up, things were out of their place and my anxiety levels were through the roof.

I had an emotional breakdown. I had not mentally prepared for all of these things to happen one after the other and to be housebound with two active toddlers. I was a bit rusty in this whole TAD thing. Military wife of 7 years? I felt like it was my first month. And imagine a deployment?! No way I could survive! But even though my husband was thousands of miles away, I still had him. I could email him, call him if I really needed him. And I did. I vented and cried and told him it was more than I thought and I took advantage of the fact he was home with us every day. How did I ever complain about his long work day? I would do anything to have him home by bedtime right now! And even though I knew there was nothing he could physically do to help me, just having him listen was all I needed. I wasn’t alone in this military life. We were a team, even when we were apart.

Somehow the emotional breakdown I had was what I needed to put life back into perspective. I stopped trying to do it all and realized I never have done it all by myself. Since we have had our boys, I have always had my husband in some way or another. I have never really been a single parent. Even when he is away working, he is providing for us - financially and emotionally. The boys and I look forward to that break in the day when he comes through the door and goes from Marine to Dad to husband before he does anything. I have always known how lucky we are but this time apart showed me that even when I feel alone in this military life, I always have my Marine. He may not make it home for dinner or to do the dishes, but he is home. And that I will never take for granted again.

I am a graduate school dropout. Not a title I am exactly proud of, but it’s my reality. I withdrew from my classes the week they started. I was so excited to start this chapter in my life but when it came down to it, I’m just not ready.

To some, I am a quitter. I own that. I am okay with that. I only had a few days to make my decision before it became a financial commitment I couldn’t back out of and I just could not justify more student loan debt when I had so many reservations.

I actually completed my first few assignments the weekend before classes started. I could physically do the work. It would be hard, and, a big change. But I knew I could do it. However, it came with a sacrifice - time with my family.

And my sanity.

Work would have to be done during naptime or after bedtime, maybe even somewhere between. I envisioned my stress levels increasing and my patience lost as I tried to get the boys to bed on time so I could finish my assignments. I could already feel anxiety taking over my body. I know myself and how I handle stress. I did not want my family to feel the effects of that.

The night I decided to drop out of my classes, my son woke up sick. I never thought about those nights when I was planning my classes. My kids need me 24/7. Usually, by the time my Marine is on his way home from work, I am already cleaning up dinner and starting the boys’ nighttime routine.

Although I know my husband will support me 100 percent, and try his best to help when he can, the truth is, his career is demanding. Was I ready to sacrifice our weekend family time for school work? During the week, much of the work already falls on me: the house, the kids and school. I didn’t want to miss spending time with my kids on the weekends to do homework.

I know lots of military spouses work fulltime, have families and go to school. I am friends with many of these women (or men in some cases) who are able to take it all on and I admire them so much. But if I have learned anything in being a military spouse and a mother, it has been to know when to say no.

My plate is full. I cannot do it all and I am okay with that. Right now I have a husband who supports my decision to stay home to raise our children and that is where I want to put my focus.

Life isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon. My children will not always be home with me all day, every day. And while they are, I want to be present in my parenting. I know when the time comes to focus on me, I will be ready. It will never be easy or the perfect time but whenever that day comes, I will be ready.