What does passing the torch mean to us as military spouses? For guest author Heather Barnhill, it means reflecting on what she would have needed all those years ago…

I met Molly when she was three years old. It was my first trip home with the boyfriend to meet his family. She was the daughter of Jack, his best friend. She had these huge brown eyes and the sweetest little dimples and was so painfully shy her Dad had to hold her in order to take a picture with us.

Over the past 20 years she has become family.

Jack is godfather to all our kids, which makes her a godsister. We’ve done family vacations together, weddings, funerals and college visits.

She’s just family.

Last fall I got a message out of the blue saying she was coming to visit West Point, our duty station. She had met a cadet at a wedding in the spring. They had kept in touch and began a relationship. It was her first trip to visit him and wanted to see if we could meet up. 

Things have progressed rapidly as is often the case with young love.

He graduates next week and now they are talking marriage and heading off to Oklahoma together where he will do basic officer training and his first assignment.

The old married lady in me wants to say, no, slow down. Let him get the course under his belt, find housing and then go join him. Don’t rush it. You have your whole lives.

But of course I also want to be excited and happy for them. My husband, the rational one, looked at me and said, “Did she ask for your advice?”

No, I admit sheepishly. “Then I wouldn’t give it,” he suggests.

It’s good advice, but don’t tell him I said that.

I try to remember being that young and smitten with a handsome soldier, would I have heeded the advice of a seasoned spouse?

No. Absolutely not. I would have known better. I would have done it differently.

That’s the thing about youth, right. The confidence, the optimism, the belief that older folks don’t know anything. It’s what allows the human race to continue, the confidence of the young that they can make it work.

Would I have heard someone warn me how tough it was going to be?

The moving, the getting your promotion the same week he gets his orders. The heartbreak of being responsible for separating your kids from their best friends and their schools. The ones they struggled so hard to fit into in the beginning and just when they make strides it’s time to go?

Losing soldiers in battle, losing their families in your community. 

The loneliness, the unknowing. The resentment. I wasn’t prepared for that.

I wasn’t prepared to actually be pissed off at my husband for being deployed.

I’m sure if you asked him, “Jason, would you rather be sitting in the backyard roasting marshmallows with your kids or sweating your balls off in a shipping container/quarters in Djibouti”….

He would be “Team S’mores all the way”.

Oh, the tears, keeping it together until the kids got out the door to school and completely losing it.

Or secretly in the shower.

Thankfully, Youtube has plenty of “Soldier reunites with pet dog” clips for me to blame my puffy eyes and runny nose on.

Preteens can ignorantly roll their eyes at their sappy Mother and be none the wiser. Not that I’ve in any way been devoid of emotions in front of my children.

They have seen the full gamut.

I’ll admit my toddler may not have been chanting “Fox” from her carseat as I may have explained/translated it for my mother in law driving on the highway.

They have witnessed my many frustrations but the fear, that’s something I’ve tried to protect them from. Not that they don’t have their own, or shouldn’t be aware of it but they certainly shouldn’t have to witness or be burdened with my own fears.

What could I have used during that stage?

What would have supported me through those dark moments?

Maybe just being heard? It’s not like they were fears I could share with my Mom or his, it would have just added to their own worries.

The combat deployments my friends had walked through were so much more stressful and dangerous, I had nothing to complain about.

But still I complained. Primarily to him, which wasn’t fair. Poor guy, If only I could have released all that to someone else. Someone who understood the military but wasn’t going to give me grief for sharing or try to offer advice and fix everything.

Someone who just sat with me until I made it out the other side.

Maybe that’s what I can offer Molly.

Maybe I can be that safe space where she can unload her heart without consequence or judgment. A place to be seen and heard.

Not worried over. Not judged. She is a smart girl, heck of a lot smarter than I was at her age. She’ll find her own path. 

I should call her.

Heather has been a military spouse for an incredible 22 years.  Despite her husband’s bedtime stories to their kids, she did not grow up in an igloo and was not delivered to Fort Drum by a dog sled team.  Born in Nova Scotia she holds a Bachelor of Arts in Political Science and a Masters in Secondary Education in English and Drama. 

According to her bedtime stories to their kids, Heather met her handsome soldier Jason at a royal ball, just like Cinderella (if Cinderella met her Prince on the sticky dance floor of The Fire Station bar).  They have 3 kids who no longer trust anything they say. 

Heather has sporadically been a substitute teacher, homeschool teacher and swim coach at their various duty stations.  She spends her spare time volunteering for the PTO, helped direct the middle school musical, DUSA and sponsoring cadets. She loves writing and uses  it to help her process military life.  Her family is currently stationed in NY and are preparing for a high school graduation, college move in and overseas PCS this summer. She has fostered 19 cats and 3 puppies and enjoys swimming, running and theater.

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