Diary of a Divorcee

Yesterday I admitted defeat against my bad mood. I don’t know what it was— but the combination of cramps, crankiness and homesickness was just too much for me. I lounged around in my pajamas half the day, while the other half I spent sunning myself in the backyard.

I felt terrible for being such a sour puss, but my husband was so sweet and understanding about it. After he got home from work he left me alone, went for a run. Then he came home and left again to go grocery shopping. When he got home he did the dishes and straightened up the house. I’m so lucky he’s so understanding.

Today, however, is a brand new day. I will no accept defeat against PMS again! Hah!

I’m going to lay out again in the backyard. Also, I have a list of groceries to buy for my girls night. Even better— tonight we’re going to sushi with some friends we haven’t seen in a while!

I will have a good day.

I have learned that when you are a military spouse you have to work extra hard to make and maintain actual friendships. On occasion you get especially lucky and meet that certain individual or couple who you click with, on an even rarer occasion you will meet an entire group of people it is easy to be friends with.

But I’ve found that more often that not it is difficult to make friends.

Especially when you are married! But I won’t even get into the dynamics of that…

It’s particularly hard for me to make close friends at this duty station because of the general age gap between us and most everyone else who lives on base. Although my husband and I don’t live in housing, we do live extremely close— maybe a block away. We are able to take advantage to all of the perks of base-living such as the gym, the pool and the events without the drama that occurs while living there. Don’t get me wrong, I have a lot of acquaintances here. I have two really good friends as well.

Most couples at this duty station are in their early to mid-thirties with children. And how strange it is when the couples do have kids! All of the families we know either have only one child or they have three— never two. Strange… Other than that there are a handful of single guys and you won’t catch them hanging out with the married folks. They act like it is a disease!

The particular base that we live close to is mostly an Air Force community. The Coast Guard is segregated to a particular area of the base. The people who live there also work with one another. Your neighbor could very well likely be your boss. And boy are the walls thin! You get the picture… it’s not somewhere that we’d consider living until our future children are at least school aged.

Many of the Coasties here know each other from prior duty stations. We stick together— having BBQs, birthday parties and holiday events pretty frequently. While it is easy for the entire group of us to get together— kids and husbands included. It’s not very often that the ladies get to do something on their own.

That’s why I have taken it upon myself to plan a girls’ night.

I sent out little invitations on Facebook for the party on Friday. All the responses have been pretty positive so far. The only person who hasn’t RSVPed is my closest friend— but I think it’s because she has to convince her husband; he’s sort of a prima donna.

I’m planning on having cocktails— Skinny Bitches, Screwdrivers, Madrases, Margaritas and Rum & Cokes. Along with some Mexican-themed munchies— chips and salsa, guacamole, queso, and tacos.

Hopefully it will renew our friendships!

People have been pretty isolated with this upcoming deployment.

As I arrived at the doctor’s office this morning I realized that I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. In normal fashion, the questions started racing through my mind— Is she going to up my Metformin? Another semen analysis for my husband? Can we start on Clomid this month? Is she going to do a pelvic exam any time soon? Why do they always have to weigh you while at the doctor?

You know, the usual.

As soon as I sat down to watch the clinic’s movie of the day, which was Look Who’s Talking, the nurse called me back. I didn’t even flinch when she motioned me to the antique bathroom scale. I sat down in the exam room, had my blood pressure taken (107/70) and turned my phone on silent.

Before I knew it the doctor was knocking on the door.

“Oooh, I louff that pattern on you. The, um, black and vhite ees my favvvorit.” Her accent was thicker than usual. I wondered if she spent some time with her parents or something over the weekend.

“Thanks.” I felt anxious, like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She proceeded to look over my chart.

“So, how ees thee Metformin treating you?”

“It’s fine. I felt the effects the first two days, then it went away. I almost called you to see if I could up the dose last week; but I figured I’d wait.”

“Do you vant to have a stomach ache?” She laughed; her big, unruly teeth protruding from her mouth.

“No, but I’m anxious to get to the next step.” I confessed.

“Yes, uff course you are, dear. Ve vill up your Metformin to twice a day and see vhere that takes you. Have you gotten your monnthly cycle yet?”

“Nope, but I broke down and took a test this morning— negative. I’m a little crampy, too.”

“Vell, do you vant to take anothhher test here?”

“Let’s not even bother.” I felt silly for telling her I took the test in the first place.

“Alright, vell… vhat else do you think?” It’s like she knew I was going to ask…

“I’m wondering when we can do a Clomid cycle.”

“Sure, ve’ll start off low. You take eet on zee fift day of your cycle. Come in on day thirteen for ultrasound, progesterone on day 21. Sex starting on day eleffen, effery other day.”

“Oh… let me write this down so I don’t forget.” I scrambled for my iPhone feeling a bit overwhelmed and giddy at the same time.

“Also, the semen for your husband is ordered again. Go to different clinic.” I nodded my head.

“Alright, vell that’s eet. Go ahead and make your appointments. I see you soon.”

“Thank you.” I walked out of there thirteen minutes after I walked in. 

I really enjoy this specialist. Her no nonsense attitude and approach really works for me. We laid out a tentative plan in the beginning and are now executing that plan according to how my body reacts to the processes we have put it through.

I’m hopeful that this will eventually work. I know it isn’t going to be easy, but at least I know we’re on the right path.

This morning may or may not have started off by applying to work at Disneyland.

Um… I’m crazy.

It’s time for me to get cleaned up, pick up the house and go to my doctor’s appointment.

I’m going to run my errands afterward, but do the fun ones first. Yes, there is such a thing as fun errands!

I’m pretty happy with myself.

I got every single thing on my To Do list done. And then some.

We went for a lovely little bike ride this afternoon, too. It was nice to get out and enjoy the sunshine together.

Then my husband bought me a Diet Coke. Yes, people, this is a momentous occasion. The soda hater bought his wife a soda and didn’t say one derogatory thing about it.

Such a great little day.

I’ve got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, wish me luck.

When the unit your husband is stationed at is scheduled for deployment within the next two months you learn to live your life through the constant pins and needles feeling of, “will he have to go too?”

No, he is not slated to be part of the deploying team.

He has not been issued gear, nor has he completed the pre-deployment training.

Though every day when he comes home I check his face for that familiar facial expression- the one of sadness and love, bravery and uncertainty. The same facial expression I saw the first time he told me he was deploying to Iraq.

This afternoon my husband walked throuh the door three hours earlier than usual. Through my surprise, I recognized that look on his face.

I didn’t say a word.

Instead of getting hysterical about something, I just let him talk.

There were tears in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me deeply- not the usual peck on the lips I get when he gets home from work. He hugged me and told me, “I’m not going anywhere, but…”

That last word being so crucial. But…

What it boiled down to this afternoon was that they added a few more people to the deployment team; though he isn’t on it, my husband felt really sorry for one of the guys who just got called up.

This guy in particular has been having marital problems, a few problems with his kids too. For the past month I’ve been trying to convince my husband to invite this family over for dinner. They are new here— and I know that the first few months adjusting to a place are the hardest. I thought maybe by helping them get out of the house and make friends, their troubles might not be so bad. Yes, it’s naive of me. But genuine nonetheless.

My husband explained how hard it was for hear about his friend’s problems. He feels so fortunate that we have such a good relationship. I do, too. He knows that even though deployment is difficult, he knew I would be taken care of. I can take care of myself. The most difficult part of deployment for us would be putting our conception journey on hold— especially with those morbid thoughts in the back of both of our minds. Though I have big plans to save some of his swimmers in our cryogenic tank at the barn the next time my we go to my hometown. (My family breeds Appaloosas.)

It was good to see this gentle, concerned, compassionate side of my husband so opened up. My guy is a man of few words, though when he speaks it is pretty powerful.

As for me, I’m just going to have to wait it out.

I won’t breathe that final sigh of relief until his u it is on the airplane over the Atlantic Ocean, and maybe not even then. He could always have to fill in.

I do have a plan formed just in case he is called. I’m going to pack this place up into one of those PODS storage containers, have it moved to the ranch and stay up in my hometown.

Hopefully if it does happen, I will at least be pregnant— I’ve got to catch some sort of break, you know.

For now I feel like we dodged a pretty big bullet. Let’s hope we can dodge them for the next four weeks.

I’m treating myself to a manicure!

• Wash all dishes, put away clean stuff
• Vacuum, mop floors
• Dust
• Dye hair
• Organize my bathroom
• Scrub both bathrooms
• Put away laundry, wash bath mats
• Grocery store: dish soap, tp, cilantro, white flour, etc.
• Manicure
  
• Hair cut?

This weekend was lovely…

I smiled so much at my husband that it feels like my face is stuck that way.

We’re just deliriously happy right now— and that’s all right with me.