Declaration of Independence

A year ago today, reeling from the first days of deployment, I was sitting in the doctor's office. A smiling nurse weighed me, measured my height, took my blood pressure, checked my iron levels and blood sugar, and then ushered me into the midwives' office.

I lost track of the number of times I heard congratulations. I took the baby book they gave me, the pamphlets they gave me, listened as they calculated my due date, picked up my first batch of pre-natals, and made my next appointment for the following month. An ultrasound, some routine testing, some more blood work.

It was such a quick thing, it took them less than half an hour to tell me what I already knew. I was pregnant. I had admitted, only to myself, than the weird nausea, the sensitivity to smells, the tiredness, the wild mood swings were not a result of the unending stress as deployment crept closer and closer; and I had snuck off to buy a pregnancy test. I had ended up with 3, and the day before that first visit, they all gave me the same positive sign.

In that moment, on that bright, hot, sunny afternoon, with the air conditioner blasting as high as I could turn it, when even my ears sweated in the blast of July heat, I forgot to be happy. The emotional toll of deployment day had left me devoid of seemingly every happy thought and good emotion I could build up, and instead, I was numb.

Finally, somewhere around my fourth winding trip around post, everything hit me at once. I headed for home, ran a shower, sat in the bottom of my tub, and cried for nearly half an hour. I was scared, miles from my family, my husband was in a war zone, and now… feeling separated from all I held near and dear, I was pregnant.

And now… a year later, with a sleeping baby by my side, with the dark nightmare of deployment finally banished from my life, I know now what I did not know then. That my child was going to force me to do something I had never done before; she was going to, sheerly by just being here, force me to claim my independence.

Like it or not, I was going to have to learn how to take care of myself, cook myself dinner, sleep by myself, keep my life together, do everything I had been doing, and do what Carl had been doing. I could not just collapse in the bed and sleep for a year, nor could I run home, tail between my legs and let my family do everything for me for a year. And in that moment… without me knowing, I took the first baby step towards being me. Towards becoming the person I see in the mirror in the morning, with crows feet, who hides the gray in her hair with dye, who now sports stretch marks and some baby weight that will not just go away.

Through a year as I changed and grew, as I struggled through the hard days and coasted through the easy days… I was declaring my independence. Day by day by day, I found the strength and toughness to endure. I found ways to make life work, and bullied my way through when life just didn't work.

The girl who was terrified and alone the day she found out she was pregnant, was not the same person who faced bringing that pregnancy to it's end, without her husband. There was no shining moment, no epiphany, where I realized that after reaching for my boot straps, I was standing on my own two feet. Wobbly, but standing. It was a gradual change, until, during the last days of deployment, I realized what all had changed.

But now, I can say it… I am declaring my independence. I am declaring that I am that fiercely independent hooah Army Wife, spoken of so often. I am tough enough, strong enough, smart enough, to not only survive a deployment, but to thrive. I have come through the hardest year of my life, with all it's pain and joy, blessings and hurt. And I am better for it.

~Jennifer