Thoughts on Reintegration

No, I'm not talking about the navel jewelry. That was easy. Stick it through, little discomfort, lots of saline solution, . . . bam, your done.

I'm talking about the Dr.'s return.

Last night, I had a quick dinner with CC on his pass through Seattle. He had a car rental snafu, my kids were coming in a bit early from Florida, so our time was short. But it got me a couple hugs, some good food, and a few sprinkles of his thoughts on kids, marriage, traveling . . . being away from family.

I'm starting to get nervous. I spent the first few months thinking there was nothing more I wanted than to have my husband home. Now that we're inside that same window of time on the other side, the enormity of it is starting to sink in.

Don't get me wrong. This isn't about me loving him less or wanting him to stay there. Even if I hated him at this point, I have two little boys who won't be complete until he comes home.

It's about figuring out how to fit him back into life.

The day he left, I don't think I've ever cried so much. I'm a crier, but this was beyond even what I can produce in a day of watching sad movies and attending weddings and other triggering events. I think it kind of freaked the kids out. The next few days were similar. But then came a day where I started to seal up that part. The part that felt like a raw, open wound. And like most wounds, once they start to heal over, and you stop picking at them, other than the occasional itching, you forget they are there.

This has helped me function. Somedays, I am a machine. I can work 11 hours, come home and clean up dog poop, put screws back in the hinge on the bathroom door, jumpstart a dead battery, and read bedtime stories to the kids before busting through a review of some more financial statements at about 10 p.m. I squeeze in a quick conversation with him, e-mail some friends, pay some bills. Catch 5 hours of sleep and do it again the next day.

But that part that is covered up? It's also the part that made me melt when he wrote me a Valentine's day song on our first Valentine's day together. It's the part that makes me cry when he buys me sappy cards. It's the part that makes me want to kiss him because he filed the last three months of receipts. It's the part that makes me reach out and pat his rear end while he shaves as I head into the shower.

He's my best friend. When good things happen at work - I call him. When bad things happen - I call him. When the kids do something great - I call him. When I'm about to kill the children - I call him. Or I used to. I haven't had that luxury for a while. So now I call other people. It's taken a small army to replace him - not just one person.

So how do I rip that wound open again without bleeding out all over life? I'm already prepared for the inevitable - like all wounds you reopen, even when they reheal, there is always a little extra scar tissue that doesn't go away. But to bring him back in, 100%, I have to open it up. Turn it back on.

And I have to start remembering that I need to call him. But how do I do that, without shutting off all these other people who helped me so much by expanding their roles as friend?

And even more practically, how do we fit him back into routines? What if he shower routine doesn't work with mine anymore? Where am I going to put the 7 pillows that now occupy the bed with me? Who gets the remote? Where is he going to store his toiletries (sorry honey, I've had a little version creep in the bathroom)?

I always heard about this reintegration issue - always thought it was something that wouldn't happen to me. I think I might be a poster child for it.

Somehow, I have to stop being a woman whose husband is deployed. And start being part of an "us" again.

That plane is approaching its destination. I'm trying to make sure the lights are on and the runway is clear. Let's hope whoever is piloting it can bring it in without too much turbulence.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife