{"id":156,"date":"2009-05-26T14:33:18","date_gmt":"2009-05-26T20:33:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.myheroesathome.com\/blog\/?p=156"},"modified":"2009-05-26T14:34:58","modified_gmt":"2009-05-26T20:34:58","slug":"156","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.myheroesathome.com\/blog\/2009\/05\/156\/","title":{"rendered":"Letters Keep Wife Close to Deployed Husband"},"content":{"rendered":"

This is a great Op-Ed piece from the New York Times. The original article can be found here<\/a>.<\/p>\n

One Husband, Two Kids, Three Deployments<\/strong><\/p>\n

by Melissa Seligman
\nFort Riley, Kan.<\/p>\n

Five years ago, my new husband, David, swallowed his tears as he tried to find a way to say goodbye. He held our baby girl to his nose, inhaled her newborn scent and searched my eyes for understanding. \u201cYou know I have to go, right?\u201d he asked. I nodded, trying to understand his leaving, his sense of duty. I imagined that I did as I watched him walk out our kitchen door toward a war in Afghanistan, but I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

We talked \u2014 sometimes twice a day \u2014 ignoring the popping and snapping on the line and the long delays between our voices on the Webcam. And I fooled myself into believing a two-dimensional image could transmit and sustain a three-dimensional marriage. After all, I could see his eyes, hear his laughter. But he knew nothing of what I thought about our marriage, nothing of my postpartum depression and nothing of my anger at feeling lonely in a life that he chose.<\/p>\n

How could I look at him on the Webcam and tell his sad eyes that I felt abandoned? How would I live with myself if, God forbid, the last words he heard from me were painful truths? The pressure to keep our conversations light controlled me, and it brought our marriage to a halt. When he returned from Afghanistan, I almost left him.<\/p>\n

When he began packing for his second deployment, this time to Iraq, when he held our second newborn \u2014 a son, Elijah \u2014 my chest constricted just thinking of what might happen to us. To him.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s not make the same mistakes,\u201d he said. \u201cNo secrets this time.\u201d I nodded, even though I knew full well that, faced with the Webcam, I would again hide my fears and anger.<\/p>\n

With our daughter, Amelia, now 2 years old, the computer visits were more necessary than ever \u2014 she knew him now and longed for his attention. But they were harder than I could have imagined. Amelia would beg for days to see her daddy on the computer and then, when he appeared on the screen, ignore him. David pleaded with his eyes, but she walked away, defiantly \u2014 as only a toddler can do.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s just tired,\u201d I\u2019d say. He\u2019d look down, hiding his emotions. I tried to hide mine as well. I wanted to be delighted, to drop everything when the instant messenger paged me, when he gave up badly needed sleep to be with us. But sometimes I couldn\u2019t help being annoyed at the interference. I needed unbroken routines in order to be both a mother and father to my children. At times, I wished he wouldn\u2019t call.<\/p>\n

And then we found salvation in letters. I had always kept a diary, but growing frustrated with my inability to really connect with David through the Webcam and on the phone, I started sending him long letters from my journal. Before long, I was picking out stationery to match my moods and searching for the perfect pen to carry my thoughts. David responded with enthusiasm.<\/p>\n

Writing allowed us to regain control of our marriage. On paper, our memories came to life. Through letters we could share our concerns without worrying that we\u2019d be misinterpreted.<\/p>\n

As I read David\u2019s words, I smelled his cologne, I heard him whistle while I cooked, I felt his hand on the small of my back. Amelia would stuff her daddy\u2019s letters into her pockets and take them with her to the playground. At night, she would beg me to read the letters again. Over and over until she felt content enough to sleep.<\/p>\n

And the paintings that Amelia and Elijah sent to their dad allowed him to marvel at how his children were growing. He could run his calloused fingers over the bumps and grooves of their handprints. He could watch Amelia learn to form the letters in her name and guess what Elijah was eating from the bits of food that made their way onto the construction paper.<\/p>\n

We poured our hearts into the letters, and there were no time delays in the way, no fears that an argument would be unfinished when the satellite dropped.<\/p>\n

I know I\u2019m not the first military spouse who has struggled to communicate with a loved one on deployment \u2014 and I know I won\u2019t be the last. For those who came before me, the burden to overcome was communicating without technology \u2014 waiting months for letters to arrive. For me and those still to come, it\u2019s learning to communicate despite technology.<\/p>\n

And now my husband is packing again, for another deployment to Iraq. The only balm is that this time we can count on our letters to help heal our broken hearts.<\/p>\n

Melissa Seligman is the author of \u201cThe Day After He Left for Iraq\u201d and the host of \u201cHer War,\u201d a podcast for military wives.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This is a great Op-Ed piece from the New York Times. The original article can be found here. One Husband, Two Kids, Three Deployments by Melissa Seligman Fort Riley, Kan. Five years ago, my new husband, David, swallowed his tears as he tried to find a way to say goodbye. He held our baby girl […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14,8,9,18,21,10,15],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-156","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-understanding-ptsd","category-communication","category-fidelity","category-parenting","category-one-day-at-a-time","category-re-deployment","category-relationship-changes"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.myheroesathome.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/156","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.myheroesathome.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.myheroesathome.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.myheroesathome.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.myheroesathome.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=156"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.myheroesathome.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/156\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.myheroesathome.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=156"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.myheroesathome.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=156"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.myheroesathome.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=156"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}