And just like that, Colby is gone.
This deployment has been hanging over our head for about 10 months now, and yet it still managed to totally sneak up and blindside me. I thought I was handling it so well. I've been bracing myself for what seems like ages and almost hoping that D-Day would just get here so we could get it underway, then yesterday rolled around and I spent the whole day feeling utterly sick. In fact, I actually think I'm handling this deployment worse than any of the previous three.
Maybe it's because this has been such an emotionally draining year, and I expected things to be so different when this deployment rolled around. Maybe it's because the thought of going through all of the holidays alone and then handling January and February--already my least favorite part of the year--is such a depressing thought. Maybe it's because as much as I look forward to Colby's return home, I am dreading the coming of spring and all of the financial, emotional and physical stress that we'll have to face in our journey toward parenthood. But any way I justify it, I can't remember feeling this bleak in the face of ~120 days apart.
Our first deployment was when I was still living in Arkansas, so I wasn't able to go to the deployment drop off. The second deployment, Colby was on something called an Advon team--a small group of the squadron who leaves a few days early to arrive at the deployed location and make sure everything is set up properly and ready for the transition--so I did go to drop him off. However, there were only a few other families present and one of my fellow spouse friends was a maintenance officer so we were actually able to go out on the plane to say goodbye to our husbands thanks to her connections. Then last year, I left for Japan the day before the deployment, so my mind was distracted from the initial few days of his absence. So last night was the first time I went to drop Colby off at the terminal, Hollywood movie style, and it was dreadful.
We walked into that room and everything felt wrong. The lights were too bright. The faces were pinched. What laughter we did hear sounded forced and too loud. People were sitting or standing around in small clusters, some staring blankly ahead, some trying too hard to pretend everything was totally normal. It was terrible. We dragged all of Colby's bags in, then immediately escaped back outside to say our goodbyes. I can't imagine how other spouses stay there for hours waiting for the blade to fall.
I think we were both trying to put on a brave face, but even Colby seemed more shaken up by this deployment than by others. I struggled to stay calm, but couldn't help a few tears sneaking out, then as soon as he was gone, the dam broke. It actually felt amazing to just let myself sob like an infant for a little while, and when I got home I consoled myself with a night of junk food and Project Runway (although the outcome of that only made me sadder), and eventually got to sleep.
Tonight I'm going to a friend's house to drink wine and eat junk food with some other girls, and I have dinner plans for Sunday. I'm already counting down to my parents visiting in three weeks, and as much as we're pinching our pennies right now, I've worked a few trips out to visit friends into our budget and a nice long visit home for Christmas. I know that I'll get through this, and we'll be that much stronger at the end of it. I'm so, so incredibly proud of what Colby does, and cannot imagine my life any other way. But oh... this just blows.

