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By Claire Shackelford
I may not wear combat boots, but I am a combat-boot loving woman. My husband and son wear them, and so you can keep the designer boots and the cowboy boots … I’ll take the combat boots. I think the happiest moment this year, for me, is yet to come. That is when I will see all four of those combat boots on the floor in my home.
I can just see the boots empty and waiting for tired soldiers’ feet to fill them again. One set of boots will have been through the challenges of training, while the other pair may still have sand in them from a very dangerous, distant and ancient place.
When the boots are off, the feet get to tend to the family. In the meantime, I am slowly, but surely, understanding the permanent structure changes that are happening to our family. I am finding the wife role to be overwhelming at times due to the massive amount of new information I am learning. I know it will all sink in eventually, and we will settle into our new structure and expectations as a military family.
But I am still trying to figure out my role as a military mother. This role is much harder to grapple with and, as I talk with other mothers of deployed soldiers, I am hearing the same thing from them. How do moms deal with the fear, anxiety and stress of a deployed son or daughter? We are normally not nested within the supportive environment of a military base where we are met with empathetic glances while we wait to send those care packages over to the one destination where no mother wants her loved one to be. Instead we are often left to come to terms with a grief that is like no other grief we have ever encountered, and we carry this grief in a civilian world that often (although not always) does not understand it.
Grief is a very primitive, but complex, reaction to change—and the more difficult or tragic that change is, the more intense and complicated the grief becomes. Most mothers of grown children can relate to the difficulty of having an “empty nest.” Even if our children are healthy, well adjusted and successful adults we still grieve when the change in our family occurs. Our roles change, our identity becomes cloudy and suddenly women who were once confident in their abilities are doubting everything they do and say. When your child is deployed to a combat zone like Baghdad for the first time, you are dealt a grief like you have never known before.
I have always tried to not take my family for granted, and I know that none of us have any guarantees. But it is different when you know the child you carried, birthed, nurtured and raised could be just an inch away from a bomb. On one hand I am dealing with a fear unlike any other, and on the other hand I am more proud of my son now than I have ever been. Fear and pride combined like that add a strange twist to the mix of emotions that I have gone through over the past year.
Mothers are important to deployed soldiers. If the soldier is unmarried, often his or her mother becomes the primary source for morale and support. I know if my son were engaged or married, I would see my role in his morale differently. I would focus on keeping the morale of his fiancée or wife high so that she could in turn give him the support he needs. As it stands now, for us at least, I am the one who takes the calls, writes the letters, sends the care packages and communicates with family and friends. I would never complain about holding such a privileged position, but I don’t know if people realize how much soldiers’ moms do to support their solider, the troops and the mission.
A mother will happily send a care package, attend to business, and support her soldier as much as she possibly can. It is a joy and an honor to serve my son this way while he is away serving our country. That part is not a burden. The burden lies in the bond between mother and son. The pain comes from the deeply ingrained images of that soldier when he was a child. When he was sick and helpless and you were the one to carry him, hold him and tend to him. The pain and fear comes from the deep and intense love that you have for him—the love that only grows with time.
So, what’s a mother to do? Here are a few things that I have discovered along the way: