There comes a point in every life when they have to move away from the nuclear family that has protected them all their life and move into a different one. One that isn't any less "theirs," but "theirs" in a different way. A family that, instead of being the protectee, you become the protector - the guardian, the decision maker. It doesn't happen at the same time for everyone, it's not automatic upon moving out or getting married or having children, it just sort of happens when it happens.
For me, it happened about six months ago. After a series of medical emergencies, my Mima (my moms mom) had been told she likely wouldn't make it through the night. Our family came from all over the state during a rare Oklahoma blizzard to say goodbye. Everyone except for me. I am the only one who doesn't live within driving distance and hopping a flight from one blizzard affected area to another with same-day notice isn't possible, so my guilty conscience and I dealt with the fact that my family would be saying goodbye to her without me.
Being pregnant, still experiencing all-day sickness and knowing I'd have to tote my two-year-old, his huge car seat and all his accouterments by myself through an airport (after paying $1000 for tickets) and with other commitments looming on the horizon, I decided that if my grandmother didn't make it through the night, I would not go home for the service.
Thankfully though, she rallied, and once the dust had settled I told my mom of my decision (because the day will come when she does pass on) and my mom said "You have to do what's right for your little family now, and not worry about me," and she was absolutely right. I knew she'd need me when the time came, and she knew it too, but we also knew that there would be plenty of other support. I gained a lot of respect for my mom that day. She has always known when to hold on to us kids, and when to let go. I've got to get my finger on that one.
The time for Erik to move out of his parents nuclear family and into ours was yesterday. After hoping for several months that things would "work out," I was told at my OB appointment yesterday that it was not a good idea for Erik to be 8 hours away at his sisters wedding this weekend (I had been told several months ago that traveling that far at 37 weeks was out of the question). We had hoped maybe my body would prepare for this baby as slowly as it prepared for G, but that turns out not to be the case. I'm slightly dilated, which is great, but not great news for the family as a whole I guess you could say.
Sure, we could chance it. He and G could hop a flight at 6AM on the day-of, fly into Boston and fly out after the service, but in our lifestyle, there are so few times that we can truly count on each other to be around, that we feel the times we can make it happen, we should.
Erik had to leave for 3 weeks just 36 hours after G was born. He was forced to leave me alone in the hospital with a newborn while he flew to the mainland for training, and was then not allowed to call for 10 days (though he snuck one in) because of the simulated war games they were "playing." My mom had to bring us home. My mom had to cook for us, and care for us, and be my partner for those few weeks. Though we are all incredibly grateful that mom was able to be there and have that time with G, it was unnatural. It wasn't right. It was very likely the single most traumatic experience I've had as a Military Wife. I have sent my husband to war 3 times, but in those few weeks he was gone I was so upset I couldn't eat (not a bad post-pregnancy diet) and I literally scratched myself bloody. Erik wore our hospital bracelet on his wrist the entire time he was away - which I kept once he cut it to explain to G someday how much he's loved, even when Dad can't around. I think it's safe to say he was more than just a little affected himself. And this was when he was FORCED to leave. I do not expect to go into labor this weekend, but if I did and he weren't here there would be no end to the despair experienced, simply because we chose to roll the dice. We couldn't bring ourselves to take the risk.
And so Erik moved out of that nuclear family and into this one - by phoning to tell his sister that he wouldn't be able to attend this weekend. I can imagine it's a hard pill for someone who hasn't experienced parenthood to swallow, and I hope some day she'll understand why we made the choice we did - because no one truly can until they are looking out for a child of their own.
We are in charge of the well-being of those living under this roof now. We've both slid into our roles as protector and are no longer protectees. We are lucky enough to come from families who not only understand this transition, but are supportive, understanding and encouraging when the time came for us to make it. I hope to be as strong a parent as they are when the time comes for my own children to do the same.
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