During 2003, when my husband served his first tour in Iraq, communication was scarce. About a month into the deployment I was ready to beg for smoke signals or a carrier pigeon just to know where he was. There were weeks with no contact, and when it finally came, it was a letter that arrived six weeks after he left.
Then, finally, a phone call. Those precious seconds spoken over a satellite phone came with a delay long enough to carry on two conversations at once and more static than words. No more than a few minutes later, he was gone again. But, in those minutes, I knew he was alive, which was all that mattered to me. After he was wounded, and finally able to call me from Landstuhl, Germany, the craziest thought ricocheted through my mind: I had my husband’s phone number.
Ten years later, he’s still deploying, but this fourth go-round has the unbelievable perks of communication. Morale phones now are better, clearer and there’s no need to say “over,” when you’re finished with your sentence. Oh yes, those of you in the “old Army” crowd know exactly what I’m talking about. Jason carries his smart phone on deployment, which allows us to utilize applications like Viber, which means when he has access to WiFi, I can send him real-time pictures of the kids, or even chat.
One of the best, new, technological advances? His Afghan cell phone. Sure, we pay a little extra for international service on my cell and his minutes, but it’s well worth it to have the instant ability to text my husband regardless of his WiFi access. As certified foster/adoptive parents, I know if they offer us a baby while he’s gone, he’s actually accessible to me to discuss the situation. What a rush that is, to know that if I need him, I stand a chance of getting ahold of him!
Oh, and no, I never call the cell. Lord knows what he’s doing at any moment. Texts are my lifeline to him, something I never could have imagined ten years ago.
But my favorite innovation is a combination of smart phone and Skype. Jason misses so much when he’s gone. From Boy Scout events to graduations, it feels like I’m constantly wishing he was here, hoping the boys don’t lose the light in their eyes at the realization of what he’s missing.
The boys have been anticipating hockey camp all year, excited beyond measure to get on the ice where West Point cadets play. When I picked our biggest boys up from camp, and settled into my seat with our littlest boys to watch their exhibition game, Jason popped online. The stars aligned and Skype fired up. He was able to watch 45 minutes of our boys playing hockey. He was there. Aidan, our 2nd boy, caught on midway through the game with a wave of his stick, but Aaron, our oldest, hadn’t seen. When the game ended, I knocked on the glass, Aaron skated over, looked up and lit up the arena with the smile on his face. I couldn’t stop my tears at his gorgeous grin as Jason waved enthusiastically from Afghanistan. No, it wasn’t in person, but Jason made it in the only way he could to watch his boys play on Black Knight ice. Technology made that moment possible for both of them.
There are moments it doesn’t always work. Internet goes down, batteries fail, and electricity doesn’t cooperate. Sure, I get cranky, but all it takes is the memory of those first letters making their way to me during OIF 1, and I’m immediately grateful for what we have now. Ten years is a long time to a have been at war, but it’s been enough time to advance technology enough to give both my husband and my children a little more to cling to until we can be together again.
We. Are. Blessed.
Follow Rebecca at http://theonlygirlamongboys.blogspot.com/
