Hope
Hope heard the click of the phone; he had hung up. She clutched her cell phone to her chest, the news sinking in. Chad was leaving. She didn’t know where, or for how long. Chad was leaving while she was pregnant, again. Her other hand grabbed the side of the counter, her knuckles white from the grip.
She was forced to control her tears to hide the fear and disappointment from Isabella. She also had to start collecting Chad’s things so that he wasn’t late when he did come home. Walking over to her daughter, who was quietly playing with a doll set on the floor of their family room, she kneeled down on the oriental style carpet and leaned over, kissing her cheek. “Mommy needs to do some packing for Daddy. Keep playing pretty, okay?” Hope ran a finger across Isabella’s cheek.
Her daughter only briefly gave her mother attention before going back to playing with her dolls. She was too young to make the connection, and Hope was glad for that for now. She hugged her child close, wishing she could protect her from the hurt that came with being separated from a parent. This was their life, though, and she would proudly live it. She stood and made her way to their bedroom. She dug out both military-issued bags that Chad used when he left. She quickly gathered his typical uniform needs, also including shorts, t-shirts, and a small amount of civilian clothing, just in case he needed it. Hope occasionally poked her head out to the family room to make sure Isabella was okay, but her daughter was quiet today, and not her typical hyper self.
When she returned to the first bag, the overwhelming sense of fear and anticipation came crashing down. She knelt by the bed and pressed her forehead against the edge of the mattress. She let all the tears that were balled up, out. She cried for her husband; the fear that his job would rob him from her. She knew he faced danger and he loved his career, but she loved Chad so much that the idea of losing him destroyed her. She cried for her daughter and unborn child. She wept, clutching her chest as she realized that Chad may not be present for the birth of their second child.
She cried against the bed for a few more minutes, before she felt the small arms wrap around her neck. Isabella’s sweet voice consoled her mother, patting her hair gingerly before asking the inevitable, “Why are you crying, Mommy?” Her “r’s” still sounded like “w’s.”
Hope wrapped an arm around the child’s waist, pulling her closer as she shifted to sit cross-legged next to their bed on the floor. She nestled her nose in the girl’s fine curly hair. “Oh, my sweet baby. Don’t ever change,” she said while she dried her tears. “Daddy has to go away and Mommy is sad. Mommy is going to miss Daddy.” She braced Isabella against herself, expecting tears, when her little girl realized what that meant for her.
Those sweet, innocent tears did come. Hope cradled Isabella as her lip puckered out in a pout first, her questions, naive and unaware. She did her best to skirt the safety and danger issue. She reassured her that Mommy wasn’t going anywhere. These were the moments when she missed her own mother. She wanted to pick up the phone and call her, and let her mother comfort her the way she was comforting Isabella.
As they both settled down, they hugged each other for a bit longer, rocking. Every once in awhile, the child’s voice would rise, asking another question, some of which Hope couldn’t answer. She reached up and stroked the girl’s hair out of her face, matted with tears on her cheek. “Okay, pretty girl, why don’t you go and bring your dolly in here and you can help me pack for Daddy,” she offered, rising to her feet, bracing the bed to help get her pregnant body off the floor.
Hope continued the packing, never forgetting to tuck in pieces of Isabella’s clothing to remind him of those who love him at home. She tucked her own favorite shirt in as well. It was a t-shirt that he won at a carnival for her after he came home from his first deployment. It was silly, but it was sentimental. She pulled the top drawer in her dresser open, where she tucked small infant clothing to prepare for the child that was coming. She folded and tucked a pair of socks and an infant onesie in his pack.
As she pulled the zipper closed on the second bag, she glanced down at her beautiful girl who was playing at the foot of the bed. “Peanut? Want to go draw Daddy a picture? I can hide it in his bags, so when he finds it, it’ll make him super happy.” She led Isabella out to the kitchen. “I have to look for some papers in here.”
“Okay, Mommy,” Isabella said, her “k” sounding like a “t” as she climbed onto one of the chairs, the child-like lisp setting ablaze in Hope’s heart. She was the reason why this deployment would go okay. She had little Isabella to keep her company, she was the reason both of them could face a new day apart, knowing they had something so precious to share together.
Hope placed a fresh sheet of paper on the table, bringing the crayon box over for Isabella to draw Chad a picture. Once she was settled, a purple sippy cup placed in front of her, Hope returned her attention to pulling files that included a Power of Attorney, their Wills, and insurance information. They had to gather these items and ensure that certain offices and people had copies.
She rested her hip on the counter, her hand placed on top of the stack of files and papers as Chad requested. She cocked her head to the side, watching Isabella diligently working on her art piece. It was then she remembered, she had to leave him a card. She turned and pulled open the drawer in the kitchen office, and searched for a perfect card. It had a small watercolor girl holding an United States flag. Perfect.
She picked up one of her fountain pens from the drawer and walked to the kitchen table to sit with Isabella. They both poured their hearts out in their work. There was silence between mother and child, but their goal was the same; to show Chad how much they loved him. When Hope finished her card, she aired it out to the side to let the ink dry. “Honey? Do you want me to put your picture in my card?”
“Yes!” Isabella exclaimed excitedly, and she slid the picture across the table to Hope. “Daddy will like it,” she said with such confidence.
Hope lifted the paper and examined the picture, smiling. Isabella had drawn three stick figures together in front of a scribbled home, the best a three-year-old could do. Oblong shapes, scribbled faces. It was clear which one was her, with the swollen, over-exaggerated belly. She held the picture to her chest. “Daddy is going to love this.”
Isabella grinned at her reaction, sliding off the chair to dart off to play with some toys scattered on the floor of the family room. She loved the innocence of her child, how fleeting sadness and fear was. Oh, how she wished her life was that simple.
It was eight o’clock and Hope had laid Isabella down to bed. She had tried to keep her awake, but she had fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for Chad to come home. He had called after the 1200 briefing with details, not much more, but with some definitive answers. Chad and his battalion were being moved to Afghanistan to an undisclosed time and means. It was unknown how long they would be gone and if there would be any communication. Chad would provide their address, once they were allowed to initiate communication. Hope was heavily involved in the Family Readiness Program, and knew the information would be delivered through them once it was available.
None of this was good news, or reassuring; in fact, it left a pit in Hope’s stomach. She had to prepare for giving birth without Chad, again. There were more tears, and more tears were soon to be shed when he arrived, but until then, she had to compose herself. She had prepared for his arrival by putting on a fresh pot of coffee, knowing he was going to come in and leave pretty quickly. As an officer’s wife, she knew the sacrifices that came with being partnered with a leader, especially one that cared as much as he did about his men and women. She was okay with it and encouraged him to perform at his best.
She was watching the news, when she heard the familiar sound of the garage door opening. It was an immediate signal for her to push herself off the leather couch and make her way to the kitchen to greet Chad once he walked through the door. And there she was when the door opened slowly, as if he was making sure not to wake anyone.
There stood her hero, his face ragged with fatigue, and his forehead wrinkled. The corners of his eyes were crimped, showing the small lines that stress pressed into his face. She recognized the sigh of relief when she wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him. The first thing she said was, “I am so proud of you. I love you, Chad.”
Chad wrapped his arms protectively around her. “I love you more than you know.”
They stood there, letting the moment sink in, before Hope stepped back, taking her husband’s cover from his hands and placing it on the kitchen office desk. She wrapped her fingers in his hands and led him to the family room. “How long do we have?” she asked anticipatively.
“Technically, until 0500 tomorrow.” His voice was tired, but he followed eagerly. “I need to get back in the office at the minimum, 0300, but probably sooner.”
“Okay, we will get you there, but first” – she pulled him down on the couch so they could sit nose to nose, knee to knee – “do you have any more idea how long you will be gone?” She was trying not to let her voice quiver, but she was nervous and wanted her husband safe.
“Well. Not really, but we need to prepare for you giving birth without me.” Chad had read her mind and he ran his hands over his face, a sign he was stressed. “I want to be there so badly, Hope. You have no idea.”
“No, no, no, please don’t feel bad.” She pulled his hands from his face. “You’re following orders. I want you to be there too, but I get it. This is our life. As much as I hate it, I am okay with it.” She stroked his face, the stubble already growing on his handsome face. “I already called Harper and Dad. They’re both coming up in a couple of weeks. I won’t be alone.”
Chad nodded his response, his gaze still downward. Hope was saddened by his defeated look, and she wrapped her fingers around his face and forced his gaze to her own. “We will be okay,” she reassured him. “I need you to be okay; we need you to be okay.”
Hope watched his hands raise and cradle her cheeks. She closed her eyes, taking in how his rough, work-hardened hands felt against her skin. His skin was rough, but his touch was gentle. It was his lips she tasted next; salty, yet sweet. His moan sent a shiver down her spine. She wanted to memorize everything about this moment because she didn’t know when she would feel him like this again. That alone lit a fire between them, one that could not be quelled.