Four weeks later, I arrived back home in Fredericton for a two-week holiday. It was late, but I couldn’t wait until the morning to see Zachary and Olivia. I tiptoed into Zachary’s room and gave him a hug and a kiss. Then I opened the door to Olivia’s room and heard her soft breathing. She was sprawled on her back in her crib with her curly, light brown hair covering her forehead, her feet tangled in the blanket my mother had made for her. I tried to resist the urge to pick her up and hug her but it was no use. I quickly gathered Olivia in my arms, gently kissing her face.
My daughter woke up, let out a huge wail and began sobbing uncontrollably. I tried to comfort her, humming and rocking her. "It’s OK, Mommy’s here," I cooed. I tried singing her favourite bedtime song but she was inconsolable. In between sobs, she called out for my mother, "Nanny! Nanny! Na-nee-weewee." My heart broke and I started to cry with her. I didn’t know what was worse, thinking that she didn’t remember me, or knowing she knew who I was but was now scared of me because I was so unfamiliar.
Enjoying family time before deployment
Over the next two weeks, I spent as much time at home with the kids as I could. I drank up every moment and relished bath- and bedtime rituals, the kisses and snuggles. Soon I would be back in Wainwright, which meant five more weeks away from home; every minute between now and then had to count.
Three hours before I was set to board the plane and go back to training in Alberta, my whole world was turned upside down with a single phone call. It was my boss from the Forces, telling me that I was being sent to the staging base for the Afghanistan mission in the Middle East. It was implied that from there I might be sent on to Afghanistan. I had many questions that he could not answer: How long would I be gone? Would I be back before Christmas? Would I spend Christmas in Afghanistan? The most my boss could tell me was to be prepared not to make it home for the holidays.
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