God Bless The Military Spouse

I find it hard these days to talk about anything other than Sprout and war. I know my sisters are already getting tired of it but bless their hearts, they let me ramble. And when I'm not talking about it, I'm thinking about it. And always, always, in the back of my mind is that awful "what if". What if they come to tell us he is dead? It's a morbid thought and I was beginning to think that I was bordering on some psychosis by dwelling on it so much. I thought I must be the only fool thinking these things so constantly. The other day, Sproutette told me a story that made me realize I'm not alone and I'm not crazy.

Sproutette works with some other military wives with husbands preparing to go to Iraq or already in Iraq. One of her young co-workers, whose husband is in Iraq now, is pregnant. Recently, Sprout was working and sent one of his army buddies to Sproutette's office to pick up something she had for him, keys or something. Anyway, she said when the soldier walked through the door in his military uniform, her pregnant friend turned toward the door and on seeing the soldier, her face turned as white as a ghost. The girl just knew he had been sent to give her some bad news.

I hate that these young wives (or husbands) have to live in fear of being contacted by the Army that their loved one has been killed, but this story shows me that I am not the only one thinking constantly about this. Army spouses has been dealing with this fear since long before I came along. But to be so young and have this fear seems overwhelming.

Come to I think of it, my own grandmother had to deal with this when my uncle fought in Korea. Of course, back then it was much worse as far as news from the front is concerned. My uncle was wounded in Korea and my grandmother received a telegram saying only that he had been wounded. No details, nothing. For weeks, she tried to get some information from the Red Cross and the Army. It was three months before she finally got a letter from my uncle saying that he would be okay. Grandma was always a hand-wringer...maybe now I understand why.