Mashed Potatoes, Deployment and Hope
True to fashion with my son’s first deployment, my stress is flaring up. I have discussed anticipatory grief/stress here before. It’s characterized that intrusive, unwanted thought that pops into your mind when you are engaging in the most mundane tasks. Usually for me (and many other wives and mothers I know) it creeps on me right at bed time.
I was reliving some of the fun times we had during leave last week. It was so fun and relaxing to have everyone here at home where I could just see them in person, hear them without a phone receiver to my ear, and hug them whenever I felt like it. These are luxuries we just don’t get at this stage in life, normally, anyway. Add the complications of military schedules and deployments and it’s a rarity that all of my family are ever together any more.
Whenever my guys are home I always make it a point to make their favorite meals. I think that all moms do this. We feed people. It’s part of nurturing. It’s innate and I will proudly admit that in my case it’s slightly neurotic too.
I was happily reliving all that we did and the meals I made when it hit me like a ton of bricks. I sat up in bed and exclaimed rather loudly to my mostly asleep husband “I didn’t make mashed potatoes for him!” I could not believe I left those out. He loves them. I can proudly boast that he swears no one makes them like me.
The guilt hit first and then the angst because my brain immediately went to the place my heart dreads the most. “What if…” I stopped myself. I stopped myself right there and in that moment I gave myself a good talking to — of course at this point my husband is probably convinced that I am crazier than he previously suspected.
“What if…” was my battle last time. Some of my “what if…” questions came true, but blessedly most did not. We got through the struggles with the hard ones as a family. I changed my “what if…” to a statement of hope. “What if I promise him I will make them when he comes home again… because he will be back home before we know it!” I felt relieved because I had a “what if…” that I could focus on and actually look forward to.
Trying to stay hope-focused is not equivalent to ignoring stress and pain — it’s a matter of where you live. I can live in anguish and fear, and potentially ruin my health and well being for many “what ifs…” that may never come to be. Worry never stopped a single “what if…” from happening. It’s a hard thing to admit as a mother, but my worry accomplishes nothing for my soldier.
Sending him messages of hope, love and support do.
