This is Chapter 3 in the Transition Memoir. Catch up here.
Although my official transition out of the military didn’t begin until after my husband completed an eight-week training, it was the catalyst that began the downward swing of emotions and was the beginning of the end of feeling confident I was going to be okay after leaving the military behind. I had no idea what was coming or how hard it would be and how even after he returned the turn of events would leave my confidence shattered and my emotions a mess that I didn’t know how to pick through and move forward.
With just over a month before I went on terminal leave, my husband left for eight weeks of training. Our 2-month-old had started sleeping for long stretches at night. The fact he was sleeping well gave me confidence that I would be able to get through this. It couldn’t be that hard, right? Pull yourself up by the bootstraps and get it done. That’s what I had to do both as a service member and military spouse.
But that dream started to crumble just as quickly as it began. The first night my husband was gone my son started waking up what felt like every hour. I would coax him back to sleep. Try to go back to bed. Then his crying would wake me. One a.m, 2 a.m., 3 a.m…I thought the first night was a fluke. He would be back to sleeping long stretches. But each night, it was the same thing over and over. I thought I was doing something wrong and if I could just figure out what it was I would fix it and then he would sleep again.
I don’t remember a great deal about that time. The feelings I do remember are how lonely I felt and the desperate need to prove that I was making the right choice to leave the military and become a stay-at-home mom.
Looking back I had placed unreasonable expectations on myself. I put the expectation that I had to do it all. Since I was in my last few weeks of military service I was continuing to work during the week. Coming home from work exhausted and not ready to care for a baby who over time I expected to keep me up all night. I spent most of my weekends alone. I didn’t have a lot of friends and they were all busy with their lives.
One Saturday, it felt like all my son was doing was crying. I had no idea what to do to make him happy. Another failure on my plate. I decided to put on his roar onesie so his clothes would fit his mood. Then I put him down to take a photo and cried. Every aspect of my life felt as though I was failing.
The people around me did not provide comfort and support. Instead, they made motherhood look so easy. The words they said might have meant to be an encouragement but the words I heard made me feel like I didn’t measure up.
One other factor that was affecting me that I had no idea was underlining all these emotions was Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Couple that with the unknowing realization that I was losing a part of myself to become a mom and leave the military behind, we could call it the perfect storm. I was lost in it. Struggling from one day to the next. I saw myself as a failure who couldn’t cut it.
I counted down to the day my husband returned from training. I put all my effort into believing that when he came home life would get better. I wouldn’t be alone. Things would be better. I also clung to the hope that my son would start sleeping again because Dad was back. But he didn’t. And things didn’t feel any better. In a way, I started to lose hope that things would improve because the one thing I was clinging to, my husband being home, didn’t change anything.
I didn’t know how I got to this place of being lost and confused. And I didn’t know what was going to happen next.