For the most part, milspouse life is pretty great. There’s new adventures, great people, lessons to learn, places to see, things to do… But of course, it isn’t all roses, sunshine, and puppy dog tails. In my personal opinion, one of the most uncool parts of military life are those pesky see-ya-laters that crop up when facing a TDY or deployment.

Just a few days ago, I had to conquer yet another see-ya-later with my Beloved Infantryman.

Unlike previous see-ya-laters (because I refuse to say “goodbye”), this one was different. Because we now have two tiny humans who are part of the equation.

Military see-ya-laters are weird. A few of my spouse friends in the battalion liken it to pulling off a band-aid. Naturally, the preferred method is to yank and go, then deal with the sting later. And, boy-oh-boy, does a deployment band-aid-ripping-see-ya-later sting!

When we said our final see-ya-later, I caught my breath and tried(ish) to stop the tears from flowing. (Side note: there is a big difference between water-resistant and water-proof mascara. Water-resistant mascara is no match for deployment tears, just FYI).

I climbed in the car as my Beloved walked away.

That empty ache planted itself in my heart.

It felt like a bowling ball was in the pit of my stomach and a tennis ball was wedged in my throat.

It was that all-too-familiar feeling I like to call “Deja Blue,” the reoccurring (temporary) bummed-out feeling when you say another “see-ya-later” to your spouse.

Disgusting, I know.

But unlike earlier-married see-ya-laters, there was also just a bit of relief. Finally we could stop just talking (and planning) about the deployment and start dealing with it. It felt like I had been training for a marathon, only without the sweet finisher medal and delicious post-race snacks.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad we had plenty of notice about my Beloved’s impending departure. For any of you who have dealt with one of those 96-hour (or less!) deployment/recall situations, God bless you. Pretty sure that would make my head explode.

But the time leading up to a deployment is just so much hoopla. Months of preparation, weird hours, changed plans, all the things.

I compare it to getting a shot. Let’s say you really don’t enjoy needles, but because you’re an adult, you’re going to face this adulting task courageously.

The nurse comes into the room, needle in hand, and instead of just getting down to business, she proceeds to talk with you about it… for hours. She waves the needle in front of your face, schedules meetings about getting the shot, gives you more resources than you could ever need about the procedure you’re about to endure.

It’s enough to make you want to attempt to give yourself the shot!

That’s the deja blue see-ya-later experience: The bizarre combination of sadness, grief, relief, and bud of hope because, now that the see-ya-later is done, we can start to look forward to the welcome home.