It’s getting closer. The thought of my husband deploying again and knowing I’m stuck back here, waiting for the phone calls and the emails is slowly but surely eating away at me. It keeps me up at night, it affects the entire house. It’s like a giant festering sore in the middle of the house that refuses to be covered by any salve.

The fact that this is potentially the last deployment to Iraq makes it worse, not better. I’m more worried about him this tour than any other one since 04 when the shit really hit the fan. He wasn’t there for most of the surge, for which I’m thankful. But this, as the potential for him to be some of the last forces over there is terrifying.

I worry. Then I turn it off and try to go about business as usual when all I want to do is sit in bed and cry. But I can’t because I’m a commander and I’m a mom with two little girls who are going to need to lean on me more than I’m able to lean on anyone else.

It’s damn hard for me to write about this. It was so much easier in 08 getting ready to deploy myself. I know what he’s going into. I know that he doesn’t want to hear about what the dog chewed up when i forgot to shut him in the kennel or how bad the girls fought yesterday. He wants to hear about the crazy cat and see videos of the cat stealing the dogs food out of her bowl. He wants to laugh and he needs to know that everything is ok at home.

So I’ll do that. I’ll write and tell him how the stupid cat launched himself off th stop of the dresser. About my oldest daughters work in school. I’ll make him laugh and ill lay awake qt night, waiting for the phone call or the email telling me he’s okay. And I’ll get through one day at a time.

Just like the last three deployments.