Sometimes as we drive home the road ahead blurs and we can hardly see through the tears.

Another goodbye. Another night alone. Another drive spent wondering when we’ll see him again. Many times wondering if we’ll ever see him again.

Last night I didn’t want to go to sleep because that would require crawling into an empty bed–I didn’t want to turn off the Christmas lights because a dark home feels like a lonely one. My son has been staying up late with me so I can avoid lonely evenings and sometimes I stay out of the kitchen all together because cooking for one stinks.

I understand the way your heart sinks when someone asks when he’ll be back and all you can do is shrug and answer, “Maybe February…”

You have a four month old who has never met his daddy. A three year old who just learned to read the word “and” with a daddy who has no idea.

Everyone waited around for an hour at your wedding for your husband to show up after his command wouldn’t let him leave work on time and then he shipped off to Syria three days after the wedding. Your honeymoon was one night in a local hotel and the next day he was back at work.

When you were 37 weeks pregnant, he left again. You prayed harder than you’ve ever prayed for anything that your baby would be born before he got on that plane and when the plane took off that baby was still in your stomach. You cried gut wrenching tears knowing his daddy would not be the first man your baby knew. He watched you labor on a screen while he was 7,000 miles away and as you cried out in pain he tried to comfort you over an internet connection laced with static.

When your son was a mere 20 hour old, your husband’s leave ended and he got back on a plane. The next time they met your son cried because he didn’t know who was holding him.

Now your daughter is seven months old and even though she doesn’t have words you know she misses her daddy because she stares at his picture on the wall and screams when he isn’t there to sing her to sleep. Every day is the same–there’s no weekend when your husband is off to look forward to, no waiting for the garage door to open, no cammies strewn across the hallway.

On Wednesday, you got the promotion at work. You son was announced student of the week in school. The house is finally decorated for Christmas. Even if it feels like your life is on hold waiting for him to come home, life still goes on.

We wait for them to come home…we have our countdowns–but they’re not public for security reasons, of course. One month left to go. One week. Three days.

You’re in the car headed to homecoming!

And then he comes home and it’s perfect.

But eventually he will have to go back to work. The nights of coming home after the kids are already in bed will begin again and you’ll give up trying to plan family holidays because something always comes up. That’s okay; those of us in the military family are used to it. We know not to buy plane tickets until the leave is approved and even then we proceed with caution.

Sometimes he comes home at midnight and leaves for work before the sun is up the next day. Sometimes he gives up his days off because his command decides the gear must be inventoried again. Sometimes you’re frustrated and in tears because the baby won’t stop screaming and you just need some encouragement and your husband texts back, Sorry honey, can’t talk right now. In formation. Then that formation takes three hours because someone decides it’s a good time for a really long PME.

No other job can tell your husband, “I know you’re here on base, but you’re not allowed to leave to go home to your family before our mission next week because we don’t know what you’ll do.”

No other job says, “I know your 20 week gender reveal ultrasound is this afternoon but we would rather have you here for the formation because that’s protocol.”

No other job expects you to put your marriage, your family, and even your life on the line…to make enough money to scrape by.

Oh and by the way, don’t bother telling anyone that any of this makes you upset. We can only hear the phrase but you signed up for this so many times before we want to practice some of the martial arts our husbands taught us on that person. Yes, everyone knows that the military owns you. Those of us who married service members knew that it wouldn’t be easy and yes, we knew the risks.

It’s for your country. Don’t show your husband you’re hurting when he’s deployed because it will distract him from the mission. Suck it up, Buttercup.

So we do.

Military wives are amazing. 

There is a saying in the Marine Corps:

If the Marine Corps wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one. 

There’s another one that often feels even more accurate:

He’s married to the Marine Corps. I’m just the mistress.

While these sayings are specific to the Marine Corps, it is wives across the board who feel this way. We feel like the mistress.

There, in the background, the military is always calling for him to come home. Telling him what to do. Ordering him around. It doesn’t matter if he likes us better, he signed a contract and so we have to understand that if it’s between us and his orders we always come second. It’s not his fault–he is legally bound to choose the military instead of choosing us.

But here’s the thing: he did choose us. 

Yours chose you. Mine chose me. These pictures are proof of the service members out there who chose their wives and you can see it in their eyes. They donned the uniform and stood at the altar and looked into your eyes and promised I choose you. Have they broken that promise? No, because they still choose us. After a long day of being ordered around by his command and counting gear or practicing sharpshooting in negative temperatures or having to run 10 miles with 80lbs on his back, he chooses to come home to you. He chose you because he loves you. He loves his service, too, and he loves his country–that’s why he’s out doing what he does–but every day he chooses you.

Perhaps what you want always comes behind what the military wants but that is because you are understanding–Uncle Sam is not. Your husband doesn’t have a choice. I am still my husband’s priority even though he is gone far more than is good for our family. And every moment that he can he chooses to come home to me. When he has a spare moment in his day, he chooses to text me and ask me how my day is going. When he comes home exhausted, he chooses to play with our son. After being out in the field for days, he chooses to come home and make me dinner.

Every chance that he gets, he chooses me.

You, dear friend, are not your husband’s mistress.

He might keep choosing to reenlist, to keep deploying, to leave for weeks for that specialized training course. It stinks; I know. Then he leaves, he’s busy, he’s not around when you need him, and you don’t understand how he could possibly have chosen you when he’s chosen to leave instead.

He didn’t choose a different priority–he chose to sacrifice his time with you in order to make sure that you’re safe. To ensure that your baby girl grows up in a country where she has rights and freedoms and liberty, and your son grows up being able to safely play outside and knowing how to treat others with respect and dignity.

He didn’t choose the military over you.

He chose to trust you. He chose the believe in the strength of your marriage. He chose to love you and your family in a way you might not fully comprehend at the moment, but believe me, if that protection was gone you would understand. As long as you are sleeping safely he will be happy.

What your husband does is out of love for you and your family and your country.

Look at it through the eyes of the service member who is tired, cold, uncomfortable, and would give anything to be curled up in bed next to you.

He is doing this to protect a country he thinks has forgotten about him.

And then there is you! His beloved–waiting at home, praying for him, missing him, telling the children stories about how strong Daddy is.

You are what keeps him dry when he’s soaking wet.

You are what keeps him warm when it’s freezing outside and he has nothing but a thin sleeping bag to curl up in.

You. His wife.

My husband doesn’t have to come home to me. There is a barracks room for him if he chooses it but he would rather have his wife–his safe place. While there is always more to be done at home, I make sure I don’t nag or complain or let him know exactly how miserable the military makes me as the would-be mistress in my marriage. I tell him how I feel but I do it graciously and lovingly.

So he never reaches the point he doesn’t want to come home anymore, because it happens; I know women who it has happened to. The key here is that in the midst of the military taking over our lives we must be joyful.

I want my husband back. Not just back home, back in control of his life and mine too. But as wonderful as that would be, this is the place God has called me to for the time being. It is not an easy place, but is a place brimming with opportunities to love and encourage other women like me.

The next time you feel like the mistress in your marriage, be encouraged. Your husband’s command might see you that way and treat you as such–they have a job to do and regardless of what they like to say their priority is efficiency and effectiveness and not their service members’ marriages–but your husband does not see you as his mistress.

Your husband’s orders are not a reflection of his love for you.

Men don’t marry their mistresses. They marry the one that is most important to them–the one whom they love more than anything else. 

Dear friend, that is you.

His wife.

The end.

Thank you to all the spouses who so graciously shared their pictures with me! When I asked for pictures to feature on my blog, I was overwhelmed with the outpouring of stories and photos I received from spouses who know what it is like to come second to a job–sadly, this is life for us, but I was so encouraged by the love I see in all the pictures and the knowledge that I’m not alone as a military spouse. I did not take any of these pictures except for one (guess which?)

Yes, the stories are true. Some are my own, some come from friends, some from the wonderful spouses who shared their pictures with me. Crazy stories, right? There are too many of you to name, but you know and see who you are. Thank you also to the amazing photographers–you take the most amazing pictures! If any of you are not credited, please email me at thisredeemedmama@gmail.com with the picture and your business name.

For the sake of simplicity, I referred only to spouses in my post as wives, but of course this applies to any military spouse, husband or wife.

I hope you are encouraged by pictures of others like you. This post is proof that you are not alone.