Please, meet Wendy. She is a dear friend with a Little J like mine. This her snapshot of strong.

November 4, 2005. 

Lunchtime. 

After a bout of nausea I questioned: could I be pregnant?

After three years of unsuccessful attempts we had decided to stop trying to get pregnant until we knew what the military had planned for Jeremy. 

Just about everyone we knew was either currently in Iraq or Afghanistan or they had orders to be headed over soon. 

 

Dinnertime.

My news: I am pregnant!

Jeremy’s news: I will be leaving in the Spring for an 18 month deployment in Iraq. 

…

 

We spent the next few months spending every moment we could together …

I was summoning the strength I would need to be the Strong Army Wife while he was away. 

I am a strong person. 

I had little doubt that I would be an amazing first-time-deployed-spouse, even if I was also learning how to be a first-time-Mom all by myself. 

 

The New Year came around and we were counting down the weeks we had left until mid-April.  I was blissfully happy, reading baby books, considering names, creating my “Family Plan” to surround myself with love and support (and help) while Jeremy was away.  I was naively unaware of the reality of the War in Iraq …

Until January 7^th.

I turned on my computer to start my work (from home) and my CNN homepage popped up reading: Blackhawk Crashes in Iraq. 

I called Jeremy at work.  Do you think it could be Pete?  Do you think it could be Jaime? 

Jeremy reassured me that there were many, many Blackhawks in Iraq and those we loved were probably just fine. 

Two days later, I get a call from my dear friend, Molly.  She was best friends with Jaime. 

Yes, it was Jaime’s helicopter. 

My heart stopped for a second.

My throat grew tight and I fought to breathe.   

I wanted to find the right words to try and comfort Molly, whose husband was still in Iraq…

But all I could think about was “Oh sh–.  Jeremy is about to head over there.  His helicopter could go down too.  Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness.”

I refocused and told Molly to keep in touch when she knew more about where and when services would be. 

We would be there. 

Nothing would stop us. 

 

I spent the next 4 months navigating a sea of emotions.  I had just lost my first friend in War.  I had never known anyone who had died in War.  Heck, I hadn’t known anyone who had died in a helicopter crash … you know, the thing my husband does on a daily basis …

It was all too unsettling.  Jeremy was about to head over to Iraq …  Where he would be flying helicopters …

Yes, he was a good pilot, but so was Jaime. 

Things happen. 

What if Jeremy didn’t return from Iraq??? 

I had to stop thinking like this.  I am strong.  Where was my strength?

 

I found it. Rather, I distracted myself with preparing for Baby Girl (Jaime would be her name, in honor of the friend we had just lost). 

I was strong again. 

Jeremy mobilized to Fort Hood in April for 6 months where we saw each other on a weekend pass one month and then again in June when Baby Jaime was born. 

It was a beautiful 7 days with him home and our brand new baby.  

Just being Jeremy.

Not the helicopter pilot, just Husband and New Daddy. 

Seven days that flew by too quickly and poof, he was back to being a soldier. 

This goodbye was so much harder than the one in April.  Although I blamed it on the hormones, I was flat out scared he was not going to return home from Iraq to live his dream of being a great Daddy to our little girl. 

I hid my fear.  I blamed my tears on sleep deprivation and new-mom-woes. 

 

The next couple of months went by in a haze of phone calls and emails and I miss you’s. 

I tried my best to capture every moment of baby amazement on video to send to him, but oh, he was missing so much … and going to miss so much more. 

Could I recreate my every experience on video so he wouldn’t miss out? 

How would I make sure Baby Jaime would know her Daddy, his voice, his smell, just him … so she wouldn’t go running and screaming when he returned home in 12 months, when she will be 15 months old? 

 

September arrived. 

Time for the REAL good byes.   

Up till now, although I knew the deployment was going to happen, I was comforted knowing he was still on American soil. 

But no longer would he just be 3 hours away at Fort Hood.   He was no longer going to be in “safe” air space.  He was headed over to Iraq.  Where there is a W.A.R. 

Where Jaime died.

Where things were just starting to turn even uglier than they had been thus far. 

I summoned my strength once again.  I could cry, but not too much.  I couldn’t let Jeremy worry.  He needed to focus on his Mission.  I couldn’t let him worry about me not being STRONG. 

I believed in my strength and darn it, I was going to reassure him that I was going to be his rock during the next 12 months. 

We said our Good Bye’s and he was off … 

 

With every goodbye comes the fear of Forever. 

 

I will say it again to emphasize: With every goodbye comes the fear of FOREVER. 

 

Did I just see my husband for the last time? 

Did I just hug, kiss, hold, smell, the man that makes me whole for the last time?

Was Baby Jaime going to ever know her Daddy? 

Or would my future include his funeral and the new life as a widow where I have to raise our daughter alone?

Because … I now knew that the worst could happen. 

I was no longer naïve. 

Helicopters crash.

Soldiers die.

Husbands, wives, friends, do not always come home.

Look at what happened to Jaime …

 

I allowed myself to cry for the rest of the day. 

Then I pulled myself together. 

After all, I am strong. 

I was now, officially, a Deployed Soldier Wife. 

I wore my Yellow Ribbons with pride.  I participated in the Family Readiness Group meetings.  I met other wives and began creating bonds, based on that mutual fear of being widowed.  And, I removed CNN as my homepage and purposefully didn’t watch the news any longer. 

 

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and I found my groove and things were going great!  Jaime started cooing and rolling over and sitting up and I was catching it all on video and sending dozens of mini DVD’s over to Jeremy in Iraq.  We emailed all the time and talked on the phone whenever he could get a line. 

Things were great. 

I was strong. 

 

January 20, 2007.

A day just like every other day except this day I had scheduled to have my cat neutered.  I dropped him off in town and ran errands all day just keeping busy.  I received phone calls from friends innocently inquiring about Jeremy … had I heard from him, how was he?  How was I doing? 

I was doing Great. 

I was strong.

 

10pm: Jeremy’s mom calls.  Her voice is tense. 

“How are you doing” she asked? 

I was fine. (of course I am fine…remember, I am strong.)  Why?  Why are you calling so late? 

She replied, a Blackhawk went down in Iraq.  And it is one of ours. 

 

Time stood still.  It did.  I promise.  Possibly for just a second, but I would swear it was minutes. 

 

Wait … what?  A Blackhawk went down?

Yes.

And it is one of ours?

Yes. 

How do you know?

I got an email from the FRG Leader. 

I hadn’t got that email … wait, I had been running around town all day.  I hadn’t checked email all day. 

No. 

No, no, no, no, no ….

NO!

My head spins. 

Oh Sh–!  What if it is Jeremy? 

What will I do if it is MY HUSBAND? 

I want to scream, but I cannot wake the baby. 

Instead, I go outside and cry huge, heaving, noisy sobs …

Panic begins to reach into my soul and take hold of my heart …

I am not strong.  I am not strong.  I have been lying to myself all these months.  I am so not strong. 

 

What happens now? 

We just sit and wait? 

It is 10pm at night! 

How will I sleep? 

I call my dear friend Molly … just to do something … talk to someone… 

Her husband is back from Iraq, maybe he can call someone who can call someone who can tell me that Jeremy is ok. 

I know it doesn’t work that way, but I was desperate!

 Please, please, someone needs to tell me MY HUSBAND IS ALIVE! …