The Pit

THE pit. You know - THAT feeling. That pit in your stomach. Butterflies. Nerves. Anxiety.

Well that feeling has been in the center of my world for the past couple weeks. I'd like it to go away, but that is easier said than done. Knowing that your husband will be leaving for 8 whole weeks leaves you with quite and un-easy feeling.

Its that feeling that makes me unable to have an appetite {thank goodness I still have 10lbs of leftover baby!}. It makes me unable to enjoy my last few days with my love. It consumes me.

As much as I try to not think about the upcoming event of Jordan leaving, it surrounds me at every turn. I focus on the baby and for a moment, a short moment, I am distracted by her happy giggles and obliviousness of the changing dynamic about to take place in her home. Our living room has become packing central. Our table has uniforms and ribbons waiting to be put in the perfect spot on new jackets and shirts. There are two new pairs of boots waiting to be laced up. Out processing paperwork on my counter reminds me that he's leaving.

I've had a few days off work to be able to stay home and enjoy our last few days together. Trying to enjoy it is the hard part, which makes me more anxious because I just want to soak up every happy minute. Instead, we are both trying to not break down and not think about it, and it makes for some quiet meals because that is the only thing on our mind. Maybe its just us. Maybe its just my out of control anxiety that is causing this gloomy scenario playing out in our house. But if I were a bettin' woman, I'd guess that most families facing what we are facing, go through very similar emotions.

The lead up is the worst. Worrying about sleep the night before he leaves and if we'll be able to rest at all. Anticipating that I'm going to lose it at the airport and he can't do anything to help me as I drive away. Knowing that I'm going home to an empty, lonely house. Knowing that we are facing eight whole weeks without daddy. The unknown of this new training; when can we talk next, how often can we talk? I could barf just thinking about it all.

Then it happens. Then we wake up and its time to go. How long do we linger downstairs before getting in the car? We know we have to leave, but it just came too fast. The coffee is brewing and we will stand in the kitchen just trying to act like its no big deal. Hug like its the last time we'll ever get to. Load the baby in the car and try to make small talk. Hold hands like its going out of style. Pull into the airport and the tears come, they are quiet - for now. Help him unload his stuff. Stare at him getting in a pile, try and pretend like its not actually happening. Hug him. Hug, hug, hug, kiss, hug. Oh I can't let him go yet, more hugs. I think I'm shaking now, maybe its because I'm cold. We'll be okay, we'll be okay.

Both of us heading separate ways knowing that the sooner he leaves, the sooner he's home.

He'll be home before we know it and these eight weeks will be a short blip in time. But for right now, this blip is anxiety ridden and difficult. It will get easier, so they say. I don't think it ever gets easier, you just get used to the empty house and after the baby goes to bed and you're all alone is when its the hardest, thats when the tears come. Even if the tears never leave your eyes, they are there. And for now thats okay. The ache of missing my love will not be diminished with time, I will just cope any way I know how and get along with these eight weeks. This short blip in time that seems like eternity now, will be over soon.