Temporary Relief

During deployment, it is always helpful to have things to look forward to. For me, this usually involves a visit from family or close friends. In the past 3 months, DD and I have been blessed with 2 visits – one from my mom and the other from my college roommate and dear friend, who is really closer to a sister.

My mom's visit came first, not long after DD and I got over our sicknesses (see previous post). It was such a joy to have her here. She helped in so many ways. I cannot possibly describe them all, but I'll try so you can see how amazing she is. Not only did she clean up our messes, prepare our meals, play with DD, take us shopping, and give lots of hugs and kisses, she also spent quality time listening to my fears, worries, hopes, and goals. When my mom visits, I can let down. The weight of the world no longer hunches my shoulders. I can be calm and relaxed, not waiting for the other shoe to drop. I feel at peace and reassured. There is no feeling like it!

DD very happy to play with Grammy

The hard part comes when she has to go home. It takes several hours, sometimes several days, to readjust. I have a temporary panicky feeling that I can't do it. I can't do it by myself. It was so much easier with my mom here. But the Lord reminds me that He has not left me. Not only that, but this is the way it is supposed to be. I am an adult with a daughter of my own. My mom can't always be with me (though she is always there for me). She has raised me to be a strong, independent, capable woman. And I must make her proud. But how thankful I am for the relief her visits provide!

Not long after I readjusted and returned to my routine, my college bestie came to visit. The feelings were similar. It was a party every day! We laughed and cried, shared our hearts and our lives in ways you can't replicate over the telephone. She met DD for the first time, and they were fast friends. Her visit was therapy to my wearied soul.

Fast friends

3 happy girls

Yet again when she had to leave, there was a readjustment period. The house was quieter. Nights were lonely again. Reality didn't sink back in, it pummeled me. The end of each visit is another goodbye that serves to remind me of the goodbye I had to say to my husband. The pain comes rushing back until I acknowledge it and affirm that yes, this is a hard time, but it is not impossible. If it weren't so difficult, I wouldn't be able to fully enjoy the satisfying wholeness that these visits bring. So while when they end, I feel loss, I would not trade their restorative power for anything. Not only do they give me something to look forward to, they help me persevere. They are a glimpse of God's love for me, how He sustains me even in the midst.

Challenges

Within the first 2 months of DH's deployment, many of the things I worried about happened. First, DD got sick, and not just a cold but croup. She couldn't sleep, and as a result, neither could I. The few minutes of sleep she could get required me to hold her in her room. I never seem to be able to sleep that way. If I tried putting her down, she would cry, which would kickstart a coughing fit. Then I'd have to pick her back up, take her into a steamy bathroom to get the cough to stop, and rock her once she was calm enough to go back to sleep. By day 3, I was exhausted. We'd already been to the doctor who gave DD a steroid, but improvement was not quick to follow. The less sleep I got, the worse I began to feel. Soon enough, I, too, was sick.

Trying to have fun while sick

I remembered thinking before DH even left, what am I going to do when I get sick and still have to take care of DD, especially if she too is sick? Well, about 6 weeks into the deployment, I found out! So what did I do? Honestly, I lived moment to moment, cried, prayed, took Dayquil 24/7, and held my daughter as often as she needed. Thankfully, and this was God's grace to me in the midst of a hard time, I was not so sick that I couldn't take care of DD. It was a cold, and I could manage a cold.

Finally, after about 8 very long days, the croup cough left, and I rejoiced. A few more days stuck inside to make sure she was truly symptom free, and we could finally leave our house again. That was the hardest part for me – not being around people. I was so isolated, and it was very challenging to keep my spirits up.

About a week and a half went by when we were able to engage in our usual activities again – Gymboree, MOPS, PWOC, play dates, etc. But then DD got a runny nose and another cough. Ugh! It felt like were never going to be well! And wouldn't you know it, just as we were starting to feel better, the dog got sick. His eyes rolled back into his head, he was shaking, and very, very lethargic. So an hour before bedtime on a Saturday night, I loaded DD and the dog into the car and headed to an emergency vet. After all this, I couldn't handle my dog dying on me – not this soon into the deployment.

So glad to be back at Gymboree!

Thankfully, the vet was gracious and didn't take too long to examine Calvin and decide his eyes were probably just inflamed. They sent us home with some eye drops and told us to return the next day to re-check his eyes, if they were still rolled back. By the following morning, praise God! His eyes were normal, and he was back to his energetic, hungry self.

About a week later, I decided to take Calvin to the groomer because bathing him was just another thing on my to-do list that never got checked off. While he was at the groomer, I planned for DD and I to go shop for a new laptop because in the midst of all this, not only my laptop but my desktop computer decided to break. Since that is how I communicate with DH, that had to be remedied quickly!

Well, I'm sure you know where this is going...

When I started the car, it wouldn't crank, and I noticed a warning light on the dash. I just wanted to throw my hands into the air and say, “what next, God?” So after I did that, I ran through all the options in my head for how to get this fixed. DD and I went inside, and I called the car dealership to schedule an appointment, trying to simultaneously be thankful that at least DH's car was working.

Love my car, but love it more when it's working

I was anxious about taking my car to get serviced (yet another thing I had worried about before DH left) because DD's new car seat was not the easiest to uninstall/install from car to car. But thankfully, she is still small enough to fit in her infant seat which is easy to install/uninstall so I was able to use that when we dropped off my car and took a shuttle home. So the huge deal I had made in my head was really not that big at all.

From sicknesses to vets to computers to cars, I just had to smile (after I cried). God knew my fears, and He wanted to show me, very early on in this deployment, that they were unwarranted. He was and is going to see me through each and every time. As the song says, He'll never let go, through every high and every low.

So now DD is cutting 3 molars all at one time and is very cranky. The dog throws up at least once a day, and the service engine light in DH's car is now on. I sigh, try not to cry, and thank God that He's got this one too. But most of all, He's got us. He's taking care of us, regardless of the circumstance. He is good. All the time. And all the time. He is good.

What a Difference a Week Makes

One of the hardest parts for me when first starting a deployment is getting used to the new normal.  All of my routines seem tarnished by the absence of my sweet husband.  While in theory it should only affect my night time and weekend routines, deployment actually affects every part of my day.  This is because from the moment we say goodbye, the weight of the world is on my shoulders.  Or so it feels.

My husband once told me about an article he read regarding decision-making and how with each decision we make, we become more and more apathetic.  Each choice we make requires so much brain power and energy that we are simply too exhausted by the end of the day to feel passionately enough to make yet another call.  I feel that this aptly sums up the life of a spouse with a deployed soldier, especially one who is also a mom.

While it's true that you want to keep your husband as involved as possible, it's not always easy when you have to make a split-second decision.  And at the beginning of a deployment, there is a lot of adjusting to this new pressure.  You can't just call or text and find out what he thinks.  It's all up to you.

This was epitomized for me the day after DH left.  It was a Sunday, and I was already dreading going to church and sitting by myself. I remembered all too well what that felt like.  Well, DD decided not to take her morning nap that day, and I struggled with the decision of whether we should still go to church, knowing it would be hours (by the time we got home) since she'd slept.  Now, this may seem like a petty problem, but to me it was huge.  Not only that, but it was Sunday.  My husband should have been home to help me make the call.

Ready for church...nap or no nap

I ended up taking her to church, praying she would be ok in the nursery.  I nervously dropped her off, explained she hadn't napped, and told them to call me if she got too fussy.

Then I walked into the sanctuary and found a spot for solitary me.  Then wouldn't you know?  The first song we sang was "Your Grace is Enough."  I balled like a baby.  So much so that a woman came up to me to make sure I was ok.  I felt like such a fool.  Totally embarrassed!  I reassured her I was fine and tried to pull it together the rest of the service.  DD ended up making it through the whole time, and we went home.  I was exhausted, but we were ok.  I began to realize that the Lord was going to see me through this, even when I felt like I was making a "wrong" decision.

Over the next several days, I continued to strive for a new normal.  Since DH was still in transit, I had no idea when or if I'd hear from him so I began to have quite a close relationship with my cell phone, just in case.  He was faithful to cal or write and keep me updated.

Finally, he got to his destination and within a few days, we were able to Skype.  He was incredibly busy, and the time difference made it even harder.  But DH is so committed to us and does his best to connect with us in some way virtually every day, barring a power outage.

After about a week, we managed to find our rhythm.  By the next Sunday, going to church, I already felt as though we had established new routines and were settling into the new challenges we faced.  Although there were still a million decisions to be made, the pressure and weight of those choices seemed to dissipate.  God reminded me that even though I couldn't always ask my husband, I could always ask Him.

When Scripture Invades Your Life

         DH deployed on a Saturday.  I’ll admit there was a huge part of us that was relieved this day had come.  Once we started, we could start counting down.  The hardest part would be over.  So that morning, we tried to keep as normal a routine as possible while finishing up last minute things (like recording DH reading for DD).  When it was time to drive to the drop-off location, I sat in the back with my daughter, thankful for her sweet smile as I tried to keep it together.

            When we arrived, I was unexpectedly overwhelmed with memories of past deployments.  I saw those infamous white buses and so many thoughts flooded my brain.  DH dropped off his bags.  A photographer snapped a quick picture of us, and we headed inside.  It was hotter in the building than it was outside.  One would have thought this was a special enough occasion to turn on the A/C.  Since we had an hour to wait (don’t you love the Army’s schedule?), we walked around mostly outside, giving DD a chance to run around.  I was grateful for the chance to be a little removed from the heaviness inside.

Last family photo for a while

            I did not know anyone there and felt the weight of this impending deployment all at once.  I knew it was going to hit hard because although I had been processing it weeks prior, I was still doing remarkably better than previous deployments.  And I was smart enough to know this wasn’t because I had just gotten better at dealing with them.  It was simply that it hadn’t hit yet.  I looked around at the other families and marveled that they were not crying.  While my tears would come and go in spurts, there was no doubt I was upset.  I always want to hold it together, to say what is most heavy on my heart – how much I appreciate his sacrifice, how desperately I will miss him, how I pray for his safe return – but every time I try to speak, tears prick my eyes and my throat swallows up the words.  I just have to trust that DH knows me and will hear these words when I can better express them.

            When it is time to draw weapons, we decide DD and I should go.  After this point, we would not get to see DH except to get on the bus.  I had watched that heartbreak in past deployments, and we all knew we couldn’t handle it now that we had a daughter.  Regardless, it was beyond difficult to tear ourselves apart.  Practicing a newly learned skill, DD waved bye-bye but had a bewildered look in her eye.  Clearly she didn’t understand why we were saying goodbye to Daddy in this strange place.  DH and I hugged and kissed, expressed our love, and DD and I walked back to the car.

            As we left, I felt every raw emotion imaginable and wondered how I was ever going to be able to do this.  But the words that reverberated in my ears were, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.”  (Philippians 4:13).  To some, (and even to me, at times in my life), that verse has lost its meaning.  But that Saturday in July, it was not trite.  It gave me hope and strength.  I knew I only had to get through that day.  There was no need to look at the next 365 days.  I pulled DD closer and whispered in her ear that we were ok, we were going to do this with the Lord’s help, and that we were going to have fun this next year.  I buckled her into her car seat, and we drove home.

            Walking through the doors of our house, I was immediately overwhelmed with thankfulness.  I had my daughter with me and things I had to do to take care of her.  That kept me from breaking down.  Even when she napped and I had the time to dwell on my circumstance, I knew I could not get too upset else I’d get a headache and struggle to take care of her.  The Lord was so gracious to give her to me and remind me of my job to make this the best 2^nd year of her life.  To do that, I couldn’t put pressure on her.  I just had to relish the joy she brings.  Even when she points to DH’s picture and lifts her hands to ask where he is, though I want to cry, I instead scoop her up and tell her he’s on a trip but loves us very much.  This is enough for her, and we go about our day, missing him terribly but determined to enjoy what God has given us, even in the midst of pain.

Third Time's a Charm...Not When it Comes to Deployment

        Not long after life got back to “normal” with all of DD’s reflux and sleeping issues, we got the news that my DH would most definitely be deploying…for a year, 9 months, who knows.  The whole past year it was always on the table so it did not come as a surprise.  I was just so busy trying to be a mom that I could not even think about a deployment.  DH had done a few TDY trips while DD was a young infant, and we survived them.  But of course, deployment is a whole other story.  The closer to the departure date we got, the more of a mess I became.  Thankfully, my daughter kept my focus on her most of the day but nights were hard.  I started to think about the reality of my husband being gone.  Yes, we had done it twice before, but this time was going to be very different because now we are parents.  Not only that but because of moving here just a few weeks before DD was born and the crazy ride of her first year of life, I did not have much of a support system.  It’s very hard to start off a deployment feeling like that.  Here’s an excerpt from a journal entry I wrote a few days before he left to give you some insight into just what I was feeling.

            10(ish) days until DH deploys for the 3^rd time.  Trying to stay positive, make the most of the time, and set goals for the year apart.  I don’t want to wish away DD’s life so I’m determined she and I will make some good memories and not stop enjoying life.  I am hopeful this deployment will go faster and be slightly easier (in some ways) now that I have my sweet daughter to take care of.  There is no doubt she is a joy!  Any day now she’s going to start talking.  Likely first words are star, bird, dog.  But of course, the possibilities are endless!  Can’t wait to find out!

This time just before DH leaves is so tough.  
You want to keep some sort of a routine.
You want time to stop and speed ahead all at the same time. 
You stop yourself from saying, “This is the last _________________.” 
You take mental pictures and you try not to argue. 
You count down to the big countdown. 
You make all his favorite meals, and try to give him his “me” time when all you want to do is never leave his side. 
You begin planning care packages and menus for one. 
You try to make holiday plans before the tears overwhelm you. 
You try not to cry but also not live in denial. 
You try to keep things in perspective but fail repeatedly. 
You try to live one day at a time and think of the only way to eat an elephant…
But in the end, deployment is coming…ready or not.

Acid Reflux...1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back

         Many babies, if not all, have reflux to some extent.  However, when DD was around 5 weeks old, I noticed long bouts of crying after eating, arching her back, thrusting her tongue, and swallowing after burping.  She was not one to throw up everything she ate every time she ate.  She was more of a silent spitter, although there were times when she would seem to expel anything in her tiny stomach.

             Since I had a friend (my former battle buddy) with a daughter who was almost a year older than mine who experienced horrendous consequences as a result of GERD (gastro esophageal reflux disease), I was very concerned this was happening to us.  Although, it was confusing because my DD wasn’t throwing up everything every meal as my friend’s daughter had done.  But I typed her symptoms into YouTube and saw babies acting the same way as my sweet girl.  In the comments, reflux or GERD was diagnosed. So I booked an appointment with a pediatrician and explained DD’s symptoms.  The doctor agreed it sounded like reflux and prescribed Zantac.  She also advised me to add rice cereal to the bottles to thicken the milk.

            I noticed a slight improvement over the first few weeks, but my DD continued to act uncomfortable and had slow weight gain.  She would go hours without eating anything, and I didn’t know what to do. 

            I was still dealing with the effects of not being able to breastfeed, and now I couldn’t even get my daughter to eat.  Not only that but her sleep was drastically interrupted day and night by what I could only assume was the acid in her stomach.  I found, however, that if I put her in her car seat attached to the stroller, and rocked her, I could get her to sleep.  So this is how we got her to sleep for naps for the first 8 months of her life.  These naps would often only last 30 minutes, and then it seemed she was just too uncomfortable to sleep any more.

            I was exhausted and begged God to help us.  I stopped going to Bible study because it was too hard to get DD to sleep, and I could barely function on the little sleep I got.  I prayed over and over that God would mature DD’s sphincter muscle or whatever was causing her such pain, but it seemed no relief was in sight.  I tried going off dairy, convincing myself that something was bad in my milk, but we didn’t notice a difference.

            I went back to the pediatrician who graciously referred us to a pediatric gastroenterologist and a feeding clinic.  I called both immediately but neither could see us for 2 months.  It was a long wait!  I did not have much faith that a feeding clinic could help us but I figured the GI could do something.  In the meantime, they switched my daughter to Nexium where I again saw a small improvement.

            The feeding clinic appointment happened first, and I was pleasantly surprised by the suggestions and feedback I received.  It was a gift from God!   They encouraged me that I was a good mom and was taking excellent care of my daughter, even though I broke down in tears, feeling as though I failed at every turn.  The words of this pediatrician, orthopedic therapist, speech therapist, and nutritionist did bolster my confidence.  I began implementing their suggestions right away.  They said if within two weeks, I saw no improvement, to call back and they would begin seeing us weekly.

            Well, 2 weeks later, I thought there was some improvement.  There was.  Some.  I was beginning to find out, we were in a cycle. Things would improve just enough that I’d regain hope and think we’d found a solution only to be slapped in the face a month later with the realization that things were still not as they should be.  DD hated the bottle and it was a challenge just to get her to take 3 ounces!

            The next appointment was with the GI who suggested it could be an allergy.  He told me I could go on an elimination diet (since I was still pumping) or try a hypoallergenic formula.  All the emotions of my failure to breastfeed came rushing back.  I was adamant that I didn’t want to give DD formula.  If I couldn’t breastfeed, at least I could give her breast milk.  I had given up dairy months prior, and it was tough.  I wasn’t sure I could do a complete elimination diet.  Of course, I could do anything for my daughter, but would it really help?  It would take weeks to find out.  I began researching and begging God for wisdom and discernment.  Again, I needed to lay aside what I wanted and do what was best for my daughter.

            God began dealing with me and exposing yet again my performance-based attitudes and judgmental tendencies (ok, they were more than tendencies, but I was trying to give myself grace).  Not a day went by that I didn’t collapse in tears, overcome by failure.  The Lord was gracious to me in the midst of all this and put wise family and friends around me.  I eventually decided to try the hypoallergenic formula so I could sustain my energy level to take care of my sweet girl in the only way I knew how.

            Every time I gave her formula, I wanted to cry.  In my heart I just felt it wasn’t right, but if this was going to help her, I’d do anything.  Of course, she hated the taste so I had to puree banana to add to it.  It seemed to work, but the cycle continued.  For the first few days, improvement seemed evident.  But after about 2 weeks, we were back to square one.  So the GI told us to try another formula.  Again, slight improvement, and then back to all the previous symptoms.  We tried five different formulas, all with the same results.  It was definitely not an allergy.  Back to breast milk we went.

            Thankfully, as DD got older, we were able to introduce more and more solids.  She was hooked!  A much bigger fan of the spoon than the bottle, and I praised God!

Trying "solids" for the first time

            Through all the formula changes, we began going to the feeding clinic weekly.  We had an amazing therapist who, every week, provided encouragement and new suggestions.  She helped not just with feeding but with sleeping, separation anxiety, development, and socialization.  I have no doubt that the Lord strategically placed her in our lives.  We would not have been able to get through that time without her!

            Another blessing from the Lord during this time was my former battle buddy who was faithful to call and text with me whenever I had questions about this reflux journey we seemed to be on.  Although our girls differed in some of their symptoms, much of their behaviors were identical.  I remember texting this friend numerous times to ask how I could get my daughter to sleep better, what strategy to try when introducing solids but still trying to get her to drink milk, and whether we should try a hypoallergenic formula, request an endoscopy, etc.  She will probably never know how much she helped me during that time.  Her understanding and experience provided comfort when nothing else seemed to help.  The Lord is so faithful, in the midst of hard times, to provide us with glimpses of hope, and to ultimately bring us out of that difficult season.

            Finally, when DD was about 10 months old, eating table food and sleeping better, we began to relax.  The Lord was slowly bringing us out of this craziness, and life started to regain its groove.  There was no doubt this was the most challenging season I had ever endured (beyond Ranger School, beyond deployments).  I constantly felt like I was just barely keeping my head above water.  Yet through it all, the Lord never left me.  He was faithful even when I was not.  All the setbacks, all the pain and turmoil, would serve a purpose.  I’m still not sure what that purpose is, but I am confident that the Lord who redeems my soul will also redeem my failures and disappointments.

 

            Joy comes in the morning…

Tiny newborns have big opinions

         Once home with our newborn daughter, we were eager to show her all her new things.  Of course, for about the first 3 weeks of her life, she was content to sleep, not interested in much else, not even driven by hunger.  We continued trying to breastfeed, visiting a lactation consultant weekly for 6 weeks.  I was desperate to make this work.  Plenty of friends had told me it wasn’t easy and not for the faint of heart, but I was determined.  Unfortunately, as Dear Daughter (henceforth, DD) began losing weight, the lactation consultant recommended we try a bottle (despite my protestations) in order for her to get enough calories to be awake and alert enough to breastfeed.

Doing what she did best

            As soon as we gave her the bottle, she gulped the expressed milk.  We couldn’t believe it!  I continued offering her the breast and trying all the different strategies, but it became clear after a month or so that she only wanted the bottle.  I couldn’t believe such a tiny baby could be so opinionated.  She didn’t want to have to work for her food, nor did she want to be swaddled or held cradled in your arms.  She wanted to be upright and free to use her arms and legs.  She did not want a pacifier, and she hated the car.  All these things I could accept, but it was very hard to believe she didn’t want to breastfeed.  It felt like she didn’t want me.   Breastfeeding was supposed to be natural, how God created us.  Was there something wrong with me?  With all the lactation help I was receiving, they encouraged me that nothing was wrong anatomically.  Yes, DD had a high arch, but with all these different strategies we were trying, something should’ve worked.  The only explanation they could give me was that some babies just prefer the bottle.  They kept saying it wasn’t my fault.

            But I couldn’t hear that.  I kept thinking if I just tried a little harder, used a different method, or begged God, it would work.  I felt rejected by my own daughter and a flat-out failure.  I can’t even begin to describe the emotional wreck I became during those first few months.  I could not comprehend why giving up on breastfeeding was such a huge issue for me.  It was just this deep-seeded feeling that this is how I would take care of my daughter, but she wouldn’t let me.  It didn’t seem right.  It didn’t seem fair.  God had given me an overabundance of milk, to the point where I had to pump every 2 hours.  When I didn’t, I got mastitis.  So I continued pumping, knowing that at least I could still give my sweet girl breast milk, just not with the usual method of delivery.  So I pumped and I pumped for 10 straight months, freezing what she did not eat.  After about 8 weeks, I stopped offering the breast and just gave the expressed milk in a bottle, feeling like the very first test as a mom, I had failed.  Where I was going to go from here?

Cuddle bug

            My quiet times became more infrequent and less meaningful.  I was exhausted emotionally and physically.  Yet God never left me.  He used those months, those gut-wrenching emotions, to show me I still had perfectionist tendencies buried deep inside.  I thought I had moved past a performance-based life, but my reactions to this breastfeeding setback clearly showed otherwise.  The Lord used my sweet, cuddly 8 week old to teach me things I hadn’t been able to learn in my 27 years.  In the first few months of her life, He taught me that it was no longer all about me and what I wanted.  It was about what was best for her, no matter how painful or confusing or exhausting it was for me.

            That’s what He does for us as our Parent.  He does what is best for us.  And yes, we have BIG opinions, especially about how He intervenes in our lives, but He sees the big picture.  He knows that in the grand scheme of things, whether I breastfed or bottle-fed didn’t matter.   What did matter is that I surrendered myself and my child to Him (my expectations, my fears, my rights), and allowed myself to be teachable.  God used this to turn my world upside down and show me how much He loves me, as my Parent.  That’s one life lesson I hope to never forget!