Frustrated yet thankful

Does anyone else have those days where everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong and you're left wondering what in the heck is going on? Welcome to the past few weeks. I found out my husband was going to Arkansas for 3 months and I wouldn't be going up there(shocker). Then he gets told that his unit is being sent to Japan for two years and I also can't go(shocker). Then when I'm feeling absolutely depressed and anxious and moody, my son gets sick from getting his 6 month old shots, he fusses and cries nonstop(very unusual for him) and he doesn't eat or sleep and I get chastised for not taking care of him by my mom, who then precedes to tell me how it will be an inconvenience if I have to stay at home while Christian is in Okinawa... Okay, harsh. Then last night I worked on this book I'm writing as a hobby because I'm trying to keep myself busy, and after close to six hours of typing and grammar checking and revising and changing and cutting and fixing and double reading, I went to bed. Well woke up with a plan. My whole day was going to be busy and fun. Except that it wasn't. I nearly killed myself on the treadmill. Stupidly ate an apple before running and got such a bad side ache that I nearly fainted. Then my son falls asleep and I'm thinking 'heck yeah time to write some more and then after a chapter I'll garden and go swimming and then come back in...well, computer froze, so naturally I restarted...except it didn't restart instead it sat there and internally died. So I grab my phone to look up how to fix it, now in a panic that I can't back it up. I tried everything under the bright white sun and nothing worked. Then I called the apple store to see if anyone had seen something like this. One person had and the computer wasn't able to be used or have anything retrieved from it. Awesome! Baby pictures. Wedding pictures. Intimate family moments. Music. Movies. Documents. Everything gone. Just gone. Non existent. So I called the Genius Bar to make an appointment, they told me to do it online. I went online trying to get a spot, was about to click on one for that afternoon and when I clicked it it said "this slot is taken, please choose the next available time" which happened to be tomorrow afternoon. Which meant not only was I missing a chance to Skype with Christian that I wouldn't get many more of, but my computer with my hobby was gone. So I went to the grandparents for lunch. Where I got told to be pretty much perfect. Keep up the laundry. Clean the house. Pick days to do things like dust, or deep clean bathrooms, or pledge all the wood in the house, or mop, or vacuum, etc etc. Then I came home where my sister was just being such a peach and kept yelling and whining at the top of her lungs, which not only gave me a headache but it made Jonathan (who had just stopped crying and fussing) start screaming. Full on screaming people. Like the baby sounds when it falls off a bed. (Not that I'd know or anything) then with a pounding headache, a sick stomach, a sickly 8 month old and myself I went downstairs to turn on a movie...and somehow. In a 24 hour period. I had misplaced the tv remote in our room. Well Jonathan (who is still screaming) screams louder and I lay him down, search the whole house for the flipping thing, can't find it, realize there's a dumb button on the tv, Jonathan falls asleep two minutes in, then I'm left to turn off the tv without a remote, set him in bed, and pray he doesn't wake up. Then I get a call from my husband who has had a bad day and he gets on my case about everything. I manage to not flip out too bad (considering I'm sleep deprived, lonely, sore, hungry, sad, frustrated, annoyed, and ticked off) and then it's another conversation in which there's angry annoyed tension in the air...through the phone... And it ends with the phone cutting out because the service in this stupid house is about as reliable as a first generation, brick, pull up antenna, buttons as big as my thumb pads, stupid phone. Then of course I have to walk upstairs where my mom is sleeping on the couch because her children have sprawled out across her bed, and then after calling back the conversation is short and simple. Good nights are said and now I have to blog from my phone because my stupid computer is going through menopause and decided to do what the heck it wants. And now I'm going to have to buy a new computer which means I won't have the funds to go to Arkansas and go to the marine ball before Christian leaves for two years and I can't see him. So now I'm stuck with no FaceTime or Skype, and go to the ball. Or buy a new computer so I can FaceTime and Skype hopefully on weekends, and not see him in person before he leaves. Which is a terrible decision to make. See him in person for a short while? Or hopefully every weekend for an hour through Skype for two years? Either way the options suck because I can't be with him. Because once again I'm left behind. 

And what's it all for? Honestly? I have no clue. Sometimes it seems like we would be happier without each other and the stress. Sometimes it seems like when we are doing well the world swings a bat at our piñata of a relationship. Sometimes I wonder which blow will be the last before we can't take it anymore and we fall apart. How much longer the tension and worry and loneliness will go on before consuming our relationship and marriage. Sometimes I even wonder if I will ever see him again. Because out of the 15 months we have been married, he has been home six. Three after we got married, one after boot camp, a week when Jonathan was born, a weekend when I flew to Pensacola, a weekend in July, and a month in August. He's only known his son for a month and ~2 weeks out of his 8 month old life. That's messed up. My son is growing up without a daddy. A daddy who wasn't there to feed him baby food, who wasn't there for tummy time, who wasn't there when he started rolling, or when he was able to sit up by himself, or when his cute two teeth came in, or when he got an infection and was rushed to primary children's hospital, or when he started cooing and singing and started trying to talk (only managed baby language) and he's never been here to take him to a doctors appointment. I've had to sit there and hold down my own son when he was given seven shots and one oral medication in the past three months, he hasn't ever been the one to clean up throw up, or diaper changes at four am, or get up with the baby and rock him to sleep more than 2 times ever, or swim with him, or bathe with him, or snuggle with him and spend super good quality time with him. He's never sat up at four am and talked with him and rocked him for hours without a rocking chair. 

And what can I do? I have no choice in how long his dads gone. I don't get a say in anything. It's only through a miracle and a high ranking family member was I able to even get Christian home for the birth of our son (which started 8 hours after he landed home) 

What's there to be grateful for? Sometimes it seems like there's nothing good about the world. And nothing ever goes right. But then I see that I have a roof over my head, I have a car that works (unless she too decides to go through menopause, which happens occasionally) I have food on the table, money in the bank enough for a small emergency Nest egg. I have amazing insurance. (These medical benefits amazing! Four day stay in an intensive care unit for Jonathan and out if the 10,973.20 I only paid 130.17) I have a husband who works hard every day to give me the luxuries i have , I have a husband and I'm not a single mom who's man ran off, I'm able to stay at home with my baby instead of work full time and not get to raise my own son, I have tons of free time, can go anywhere I want, the weather is nice and cool, the pool is refreshing in the morning, I have a huge yard to garden in, I have movies and internet and phones and computers at my disposal... And yet I still complain. I complain about being lonely. I complain about being sad, so sad it's crippled me. I complain that I have no hobbies to do every single day for hours, that I actually like. I stay up most of the night just praying that I'll have the strength and willpower to get out of bed the next morning. I wait for hours for calls that never come. For a Skype session that never is logged into. For an email that isn't returned. And yet I smile. Because I have to. I can't spend all day crying and being miserable even though half the time when I go into my room and his picture is mounted on the wall I lean my back against the wall and sob, Because I can't find the energy or willpower to not. I stare at the car door expecting it to be opened for me, before realizing that he's not home. He's never home. And all I want is for him to come home. Heck I would even be happy to go to Japan for two years, even though I don't know the language and I'm not much of a Japanese food person. Plus if WWIII breaks out and everyone decides to kill Syria and South Africa, Christian will deploy and I'll be in a foreign country, by myself, with no family, no close friends, alone trying to raise a son and find books in English that I can read to him. 

So how in the darkness and confusion of this life are we supposed to be thankful? To be happy with what we have? When what we have can be taken away in a split second. Sometimes I wonder why with Gods power he doesn't influence the world for good, more times than bad. I wonder why he doesn't change things. Like keep natural disasters from ruining families, and lives everywhere, which tears down the economy and causes everything to suffer which makes people work harder for less which leads to less jobs and too many people to fill them. I see homeless people downtown and wonder if they ask God the same question. Where were you when I needed you? When my life was falling apart why didn't you swoop in and make it better? If I was a good person and did what I was supposed to, then why do bad things happen to me? Why do bad, no terrible, things happen to good people and yet those people who constantly are not doing good things...they get off easy? What's there to be thankful for if you're only going to take those things away? 

Does anybody else agree? It's hard in times of trial to find anything good about anything. When you're doing the best you can and things still go wrong it's frustrating and annoying. Until you see the karma God sends on people who do bad things to good people. Then it makes you grateful you weren't them and he didn't kill your dog, your horse, and give you cancer. 

I figure if I can be grateful for one bad thing and ten good things a day, then I'm doing my best to be positive and a good person. So that's my new goal for the...well until I blog next. Which with the way technology is acting in this house, my phone will be next, so...soon. But I'm going to find one/or pick one bad thing that happened and make it a positive experience. So...yeah. Guess ill blog more later! 

Strong In All Things

          Okay, to start off...does anyone else find the fact that we can't tab annoying? Anyways, So today I've decided to start writing weekly. I had a very...distressing night last night in which I didn't sleep at all well, and really probably only slept three hours peacefully.
          Being a Marine Wife, I've had to learn to adapt and, pardon my language, kick life in the ass. Only problem. These little lovely things keep happening in which I am always framed as the bad guy. Not only does it make my life ten times harder, but it's embarrassing and humiliating to have to constantly get on my knees to apologize for something I haven't done.
          Last night was the worst I've seen. The "D" word was used. Those of you who are married know that that one word should never be used if you want a healthy marriage. I've had to endure now...seven episodes in which that word was used. Two were by me in the defensive case. The others...well, obviously are not mine. Not only is it distressing to me to imagine the single mother life while I have an almost 6 month old son, but to also have to work full time and not be able to raise him the way I want to makes me sick.
          Last night at around 2 am I was heartbroken and sick to my stomach. I was ready to give up, I had cried out every tear my body had. I was tired of fighting, tired of wondering why I was going through this. I hadn't done anything wrong and yet I was being told it was my fault. I was being yelled at because of things I had no part in. I had a nice talk with my step sister who tried to talk to me and explain that eventually all things would work out. And I assume she's right, since she's a genius and always right. But one thing stuck out in our conversation, that our trials are not God punishing us.
          God does not punish us for mistakes we have made days, weeks, or months or years ago if we've really tried to change. But as she realized on Saturday, that's not entirely the case with people down here with us. People are constantly judging others, without the knowledge of the situations behind it. Why? Why? Why would God make me go through this? I'm not some iron woman. I'm not hard to wear down and mold into something great. I'm made out of paper or thin plastic. I'm crushed, shattered and somehow I manage to glue my pieces sloppily back together. But I've hit the end of my rope and I'm out of glue. If we had really let it go and had been forgiven why would God have constant reminders hanging over our heads? Answer: It's not God.
          So, every thing that happens that makes you remember a mistake you've made, that you would have loved to have taken back isn't Gods fault...okay. But why doesn't He step down and help? Why doesn't He take away the rippling trials attached to each one? Because He can't. That...it entirely not true. He could if he really wanted, but it's not his nature to mess with a plan that allows us full agency. It's our choice, not his. I don't mean to sound sacrilegious, but I feel like a rat in a maze, and with every wrong turn I make, they change the maze and add new sections to make it harder.
          I'm not one to get on the floor and pound my fists and kick my legs like a two or three year old, but even as a 20 year old I wish I could. I wish I could fall to the ground and kick and scream and say it isn't fair. I didn't ask for these trials and He is being cruel to force me to continue to suffer. When everything I do is to try to be a better person.
          I've tried being supportive and kind and honest and faithful and charitable and loving and passionate and smart and funny and intelligent and where has it gotten me? Every situation I'm exposed to makes it worse. What did I do to deserve these trials? Did I run over His sacred puppy or something with my car because I would really like to be rewarded for good behavior, instead of being thrown multiple times under the same bus.
          Why can't things just...why can't I be given a break? I'm doing my best...well sort of. I'm sure I could be better, but that's not the point. I'm a GOOD person. I'm the girl who you would expect to have a ton of friends because she's so nice and honest and caring, but I don't. And last night...I lost the only friend I have left, because my significant other was throwing a childish fit. *harsh but true* I mean honestly! I have literally no friends left. I have family....and that's literally it. My best friend tried to take my husband from me, and my other good friends have gone to college and are ignoring me because they are "too cool" for me now. I had one other friend and I'd known him for almost 6 years 7 maybe, and he's gone.
          I mean it's not like I blab my marital problems or finance problems or anything to the world, but it's nice to just have a friend to talk to.  To talk back about fun times when we were young and carefree and the world didn't matter. Talking about times when we had huge dreams and we were going to be great in the world...talking about goals, about qualities we were looking for in our significant others *not each other*, talking about life, school, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, etc. Back when the world made more sense than now when everything just...sucks.
          I had an old boyfriend come to the house surprisingly about...oh four months ago maybe five. And he said the most profound thing I've ever heard. I hadn't seen him in years and I recognized him but didn't know his name or what had happened when we had dated, but he stood there and said the two most meaningful words I'd heard. "I'm Sorry." I invited him in and sat him down on the couch while I stood across the room not really sure what to do. Then he explained.
          When we had started dating he hadn't been the best kid, he was rebelling and was a bad example. Also, he had lost a family member. Then he told me that when he ended things badly with me,  a whole bunch of bad things started happening to him. He had gotten cancer, another family member had died, he beat cancer and through the chemo actually got a new cancer, fought through that one while they found another kind. He fought off three different rounds of chemo, and the whole time he had been thinking over his life. Saying if God would save him, he would change, he would beg forgiveness and apologize to all the people he treated wrongly. He beat the cancer and my face had popped into his head. He remembered where I lived and kept putting off coming to say sorry, worried I would turn him away. He came over and when he was greeted by my brother he was tempted to get in his car, get through the snow and leave. When he had seen me guilt hit him in the gut and he told me how sorry he was. How he had treated me terribly and I deserved so much better. How he shouldn't have said the things he did to me. How he should never have raised his voice or his hand to me. How he was so so sorry and he needed to make it right.
          I was so shocked I just stood there and stared at him with my mouth open like an idiot. No one had ever taken responsibility and apologized to me ever. I mean literally never. None of the abusive cruel and flat out women hating boys had ever apologized for hitting me, yelling at me, throwing me around, calling me cruel names, treating me like dirt, and expecting me to in turn respect and fear them. I nodded and tried to comprehend what he had said, all while trying to remember what he did to me. He stood up and I shook his hand and thanked him for coming and apologizing, assuring him that I had forgiven him years ago, and I had forgotten everything *because I literally had*. He thanked me for being so forgiving and he left with the biggest smile on his face. His face covered completely in a look I couldn't have mistaken for anything, but relief and gratitude. Now I'm not sure if he had actually beaten cancer or if he was terminal and needed to be forgiven or at least try before he died, but I know that he was the biggest example of change and perseverance. I am so grateful to have gone through the bad times, because the end result of that situation, though it was years later, was definitely worth it. 
          Another triumphing story is my step sister. Fighting health issues that have caused her nothing but pain and trouble. She has learned to gain from her experiences. Gaining understanding, compassion, faith, and a sure knowledge that soon things will get better. It may not be today or tomorrow, it could be in years, or maybe not until we are gone...but things always get better. It's always worth it. Everything works out and even though it sucks, it's life. It's the life we were handed and our two options are succumb to the trial, or to grow and push through it stronger, so that the next trial doesn't drag us down as far. Building us up after breaking us down.
          That reminds me. It's like working out. The working out sucks and the pain is a nuisance, but the end results make the long hours, the uncomfortable sore and painful movements, and the constant repetition worth it.

          So, that's it. My trial has just kicked me in the butt and I can't do anything to change the situation, so instead I get to focus on making myself stronger. Being the best me I can be and pushing to be better. Maybe this problem will leave me with more pain and lonely suffering, but I know that there isn't any sense in running or ignoring the problem. And crying about the issue isn't going to do anything but make me look weak. 

          God knows, I didn't ask for this trial. I didn't ask for God to put this in my path, but I'm sure that He wouldn't have given me anything I couldn't handle. He knows my full potential and I'm going to show Him I won't give up. I won't step down and back off. I won't be any less than the person he knows I can be and if that means He has to break me down to build me up, so be it, because I'm not made of iron. I realize that. My trials are harder because I'm stronger than that. I'm made of diamond. Each hard splitting trial breaks off a part of me, the end result? Years and years of pressure and forming, followed by some "painful" shaping, will give me an end result of the beauty behind the diamonds in my wedding ring. Each one taking millions of years to endure pressure and heat and forming into these great things under that pressure. Then to be taken into a master crafter's hands and turned into something beautiful. After putting trials into that perspective knowing that I am strong and if I endure it will be worth it, I'm going to finish my trials with my head up high. Because no matter what happens, someone knows my potential fully and completely, and supports me and is watching my back, and I don't ever want to let Him down.

Worst Year of My Life

So, needless to say this has been the worst year of my life. I've been married to my best friend for a year this June 22nd. We've had a baby boy and we thought life was dandy. We've been separated due to the military for 10 months and my marriage is falling apart. I've found time and time again that I don't seem to have anything in common with him anymore and he's not the man I married.
Stupid right? Yeah, well that's the situation. I've been lonely and miserable for ten months and I'm done. I've tried everything. I've suggested marriage counselors,  couples therapy, you name it I've probably suggested it. And to be quite frank. At this point in my life I don't want to deal with it. The arguing and the snapping and the mean remarks and the constant bitterness. I'm tired. I'm so tired. And I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of feeling like a failure. Like everything is my fault. Now, yes I'm harsh and strict and to the point in my marriage, but let's face it. Men...you suck at relationships sometimes, and women need to occasionally put you in your place. It's not a bad thing to have a woman tell you what to do. It means she is smarter than you and should be treated as such.
Also, for those guys who take everything women say and flip it around or completely change the meaning so that we look like the bad guy...no. You're an idiot and it doesn't work on us. You can't take the phrase, "Honey, he's freaking huge, dude is scary big." and turn it into, "You're not buff enough for me, and I think other men are more attractive than you. Also, I like men with muscles on muscles on muscles..." No...
Just No.
See how ridiculous it seems? But guess what? ALL OF YOU DO IT!!! STOP!
Seriously. You all wonder why it is that girls are pissed at you all the time? It's probably you. According to statistics in my family...7/7 girls think men are idiots or gross or just immature, and 3/3 men think they are smarter and better than women...and one just likes animal crackers more than girls because they have cooties.
Even my son, who is four months old, would agree with me on this. "DADDY AND I AGREE THAT MOMMY IS THE BOSS" is not just a funny or cute quote. The makers of that quote on baby clothes and blankets and shoes and jackets and towels...knew that women get what we want, and if the woman isn't happy...NO ONE IS HAPPY. Simple fact. And most of this is me just being aggravated and unleashing some pent up rage in which most of it will have to be worked off on the treadmill tomorrow, but it's not like anyone reads my blog or even cares...so why not right? I mean it's one thing to have a bad day, but it's another to make a bad day worse with...not so good of news, and tell me that everything is gonna be dandy because the huge romantic homecoming for the 4th of July is a no go, and oh did I mention that 10 months out of my year long marriage I've spent apart from my hubby? Yeah... I'm pissed, and angry, and upset, and sad, and heartbroken, and I feel like me sitting here planning this awesome homecoming was a stupid waste. STUPID WASTE!
Why do I even try? I mean seriously?!? Who even cares?
No one.
Absolutely No one.
I've honestly given up. I don't know what to do. And I don't know where to turn. I've prayed and prayed and prayed and it just keeps getting worse. I'm not making him happy anymore. And my failure is...hurting the relationship I have with my son, because I'm down and depressed and not very enthusiastic when playing or reading to him. Most the time, I leave him in his rocker swing and read a book or watch tv. I'm failing as a mom and I'm tired. I'm so tired of being tired. Honestly I see the light at the end of the tunnel and I'm just not sure I want to go to it anymore. I'm not sure I want to fix this. Maybe this is what my life has come down to. One misery after another. No light in sight, and then when the light finally shows up, I don't even care. I don't care about anything.
Maybe the separation would be good.
Maybe the silence will bring clarity.
Maybe I won't depend on him to be happy.
Maybe Wednesday will bring the final answer. Who knows?
Maybe I just don't deserve my Happily Ever After fairytale. Maybe I'm just not all that special.

Gone Again

          Well, if it wasn't bad enough that after a month of trying to find ways for Christian to stay home, he had to leave again, it got harder and more stressful as the day came closer.
          Christian was scheduled to drive down to the MCT with a new Corporal from the office Christian was doing recruiting for. Every day we argued and fought. Over nothing. We'd snap at the slightest innocent statement and get defensive. I didn't want him to leave. I was angry. How could I not be? Everyone had lied. We had done everything we could to keep him home just for four more days. Sat on our knees praying that things would work out. And yet, no answer. Even after hours of tossing and turning and pacing at night while Christian slept, pleading for help, begging for God to help heal my heart and comfort me. And yet, nothing. No change. The anxiety got worse. Sometimes I'd find that I couldn't talk to Christian. I had nothing to say. I had completely given up hope that he would be here for the birth of our son. I could see it in his eyes too. Occasionally, he'd break down and it made me feel weak and helpless. I couldn't stop the tears that flowed down his face, I didn't know how. The only thing in this world he's ever wanted, was to marry an amazing girl and be there for the birth of his kids. Being denied the right to be there to hold his baby was eating away at him. He tossed and turned every night, most nights waking me up two or three times to him crying out in his sleep at nightmares.
          Wednesday the 9th, we arrived at the OBGYN office and were given an option by the doctor. We already had the induction date set for the 19th, but Christian wasn't going to be here for it. The doctor told us that there was a way that the membranes could be stretched to force the dilation process to go faster, making it possible for the baby to come before the next week. The problems with this plan was not only a possibility with infection, but the baby was still only maybe 5 lbs and a few ounces, if the baby came before the induction date, he could be premature and have complications.  Not only that, but he would be in an incubation set up for easily a week or more and we would probably not be able to hold him. Christian shook his head and just said no. I was conflicted. The only person I even wanted in the delivery room with me was Christian, and he was giving up the one last chance we probably had at him being there. Even if our baby was early, he would be there. I know it's selfish, but I was willing to put my own child in an incubation set up to have Christian there with me. I didn't want to do this without him. I knew he already felt so left out, he had been gone three months, and only seemed to be involved in the worst parts of it. He felt more like a sperm donor than a father. Like everyone was planning for this baby and he had no say. With a deep feeling of depression settling over me and tears filling my eyes in front of the doctor I said no. After he left and I dressed I couldn't look at Christian, I hurt all over my insides. That burning feeling in my eyes got worse and a few tears fell as I pulled on my shoes. Christian just sat in the corner looking like an empty corpse. We left and went to visit his dad at work, which would have been fine, except I couldn't stop crying. I sobbed from the minute I was in the car until we got there. We ended up snapping at each other in the car and I ended up going in, looking like we'd been fighting.
          Sunday, 13th of January, morning came and we laid staring at the ceiling. Both of us out of tears and completely exhausted with trying to stay positive. We got up and everyone was already at church. We got into the shower and tried not to cry. Then we spent the day in the nice quiet house laying in bed and holding onto each other. Still hoping and praying for a miracle, no matter how small. After dinner we watched a movie and spent time talking about what I needed to do while he was gone. It was a long night that we spent getting ready for him to leave the next day. 
          Monday, January 14th, morning found me physically sore and achy from tossing and turning, and Christian sobbing and laying on my belly. It hurt me to see him so distraught and looking so lost. He cried for a few minutes before I sat up and held him. I hated watching him hurt so bad. I comforted him and handed him tissue after tissue, until around 11:30 when he finally got off the bed and started packing up his C-bag.
Once he finished, we headed to the bank and then to cabelas. After final goodbyes and some tears and a talk with the corporal driving with Christian, they got into the truck and pulled out. I followed them to the freeway in our car and then drove off in the opposite direction. I didn't cry until I got home. Then bursting into tears and throwing myself on the bed I buried my head into the pillow and sobbed. Christian texted me the whole drive to California. And my heart broke the whole time. Finally early Tuesday morning they got into town and checked into a hotel.

Tuesday morning while I nannied my siblings I texted Christian to find that he was getting ready to check in to his platoon. I told him I loved him and let him go. I got a text from him nearly seven hours later telling me that he had been out in a holding platoon and forced to sit in the corner for hours because he told the sergeants that I was due on the upcoming Saturday the 19th of January, four days away. His platoon he was supposed to be in had filled up and now he was going to be in the holding platoon barracks for up to three weeks before training even started. Frustrated he explained that the only way for him to come home was if the Red Cross would send a message to the office to release him to come home.
So like a good wife who would like my husband home so he wouldn't be sitting in barracks sleeping on a cot without a blanket for three weeks, I called. The individual who spoke to me was less than sympathetic and told me that unless my husband was deployed or I was having life threatening pregnancy complications they couldn't send a message. I asked kindly if the individual or the supervisor could call the office and just excuse Christian. The lady pretty much said tough luck and hung up the phone.
I texted Christian and hopelessly sobbed thinking that there was no way Christian would be there with me in the delivery room. He said to keep my head up and have mom call and whoever else to get him home. Well mom called. No luck. We talked to an aunt of mine who's husband was in the Marines, and she said she would help with anything she could.

Wednesday, Christian was getting antsy. I had called the Red Cross and Christian had gotten a number for me to give to his recruiter to give to the Red Cross to demand for a release. He called and the Red Cross said they would call me to get last minute information later. A lady calls me that night and says she is going to get last minute information so that Christian can be released. She said goodbye once the information was given and I excitedly texted Christian saying he would be getting a Red Cross message shortly. Then we talked to my aunt and everything seemed perfect. Until I looked at my phone. Missed call saying to call the Red Cross. I called and the lady told me there was still last minute information she missed and once done she said there was nothing she could do to bring my husband home. I was shocked and upset. They had made me believe he was going to come home. I asked if she could pull strings. She said no, said sorry, and hung up. Frustrated and in shock and horror I sat on the floor and cried and prayed and begged God to help me. I prayed harder in these three days than I'd ever prayed in my life. I spent that night tossing and turning and nearly hysterical. Christian too was starting to panic. He hasn't slept since being on base.

Thursday, morning came and I was on nanny duty again, when the phone rang. The Red Cross again. Calling to confirm that they were sorry but it was out of their hands unless I was going through a life threatening complication. I thanked them in a very sarcastic tone and Hung up without another word. I didn't want to hear their sorry's and if there's anything we can dos. I texted Christian and told him it was up to him. No one on my end could do anything and he needed to find a way to bypass the Red Cross. That's when my aunt called and told me she was going to have my uncle call, evade if we didn't get Christian off base by Friday morning all the officials would be gone for Martin Luther king weekend and then Christian would be stuck on base until Tuesday.
My uncle called and talked to a first sergeant. After having a very respectful conversation he was able to get the sergeant to allow Christian to come home for the birth. Christian was told "get a plane ticket, you're going home" by five that night. I had prayed all day and thanked God for allowing Christian to find a way home. Christian bought a plane ticket for Friday and he'd arrive home at 1:00 pm.