If you haven't yet (and would like to) read the first parts to our PCS Purgatory story, click here:
part one
part two
When I left off last, I was talking about the first of the year and how things were hectic as we were in the midst of leaving Alabama on our military move to Japan. We were busy with packers and movers and boxes and goodbyes. Life "in the moment" had taken control; we were busy with the things at hand. It was hard to think ahead to visiting family and international flights when we had to deal with other things that were more pressing. Things like how it was taking three days for our packers to box up our belongings when they had scheduled for one.
Like how it was harder to take apart our home -- to take down decorations, paint walls back to "air force white", and say goodbye to the house that had become our home. Generally speaking, when we move into a base house, I intentionally do my best to turn it into something special, something we feel proud to call home. For me, that's the easy part. But when we leave, I have to paint it all back and return it to that generic base house that we first walked into -- for the next Airman who will call that house their home.
Is doing all that... is it physically hard? Not nearly as much as it is emotionally difficult.
And as we continued saying our goodbyes in Montgomery, I began to realize something. I realized that every other military move we have done... I have felt ready for it. That doesn't mean that I loved moving away from family or friends, or that the move was easy. But I knew it was "time" for a new chapter in our life, in our military journey. This time around, it didn't feel like that to me. I had gotten so settled and secure in my life, in our lives, and it hurt me to move away. It was the hardest move I've ever done. And I can't pinpoint why. All I knew was that one night, when I looked out my window and thought, 'I am even going to miss the Alabama sky'...I realized that I was grieving, and that would take some time to process.
But time we didn't' have. Our move was in full swing and we still weren't getting the cooperation we needed to get my oldest son's passport. Like I said before, I was worried about what our options were. And added to all the normal stresses of an overseas move... to the movers and packers and goodbyes... was this mess with the passport.
{Sigh} How did this get to be so messy?
I don't know. But I did know that I was running out of time. That we were planning to spend a month visiting family, and that my husband, my airman, had to report to Japan by the end of March. And that a passport would take about that long to get.
{Sigh again} I started to get worried. What if we couldn't get the passport? What if we couldn't get the signature that we needed? Could Craig turn down his orders or ask for something different? Maybe, but that would not be good for his career, which in turn means that it wouldn't be good for our family. Not to mention, he could ask to turn it down, but it wasn't a guarantee. He had turned down his one-year remote orders to Korea back in 1999, when Allyssa was a newborn baby. Six months later, he had them again -- those same exact orders!
I felt like the well-being of our family rested on my shoulders. That figuring out how to make this move happen -- for us all to be together -- was my job. I asked around for advise, called air force organizations, and went onto a military website in Okinawa and posted questions on their discussion boards. No one that I talked to had ever been in our exact situation. The few people that had somewhat similar stories talked about leaving their child behind with the other parent.
Wow...I was starting to get worried. Unless forced, that was not an option for me. Not for my son or for my family. And what was frustrating was that my oldest -- he was excited about this move. He is looking forward to it. And above all else...that boy and me... we are a family. He's always lived with me. And it's not just me, but his brother and sister...
and the step-dad that he often call's "dad". Craig and I were married when he was 18 months old; it's what he's always known. I was going to do everything I could to keep it that way. Everything I could do to let him know that even though his dad and I weren't agreeing, that none of this...nothing...was his fault. And that we all love him very, very much! I still needed to figure out what to do...
But how? I wasn't sure. I prayed about it and days later, in the middle of a real "low" spot, while I was doing laundry and singing some of my favorite praise songs -- the obvious answer came to me. Let go and let God -- and get a LAWYER!! So, I spent a few really long days doing some research.
We hired a lawyer in the State of Washington (where my parenting plan for my oldest was filed -- hence, where the case has jurisdiction) and where we were soon going to be visiting family. I found out that I really needed to update the parenting plan (it's called that because we were never married) that was drawn up ten years ago. That it would need to provide information about how we would work things out (i.e. visitation, the cost of transportation, etc.) while I was in Japan. I also found out that I could file an Intent to Relocate with the court. And since there was a bit of resistance...and I needed a signature for my boy's passport...my lawyer suggested going to court to get the relocation approved.
So, that was a very nerve-wracking step. Hiring the lawyer and filing all of that paperwork. I prayed. I questioned all of it. I wondered, "what am I doing -- having to go to court over THIS??" I got angry over the thousands of dollars that was being spent. I wondered if I was doing the right thing. Was I handling Daziel's dad in the right way? I prayed some more. I ran through scenarios in my head -- about what if the relocation was not approved? What if my family has to be split up?
I also thought about how this was affecting my son. Was he feeling like this was his fault? He knew now that we all had our passports, but that he was still waiting on his. I talked to him about how he needed his dad's "go ahead". I tried my best to be neutral when I was talking to him about it. I tried to give him the information that his (then) eleven-year-old questions warranted without tainting it by my views or feelings and without giving him too much information. But on the flip side, I couldn't leave him hanging. He was asking questions, and he deserved some answers.
I tried, with all my motherly love, to make it all better for my boy. And it broke my heart when I could see -- in his demeanor -- that it was hurting him. And that...that hurt me! I prayed more and more. I didn't know why this obstacle was in my path, but I prayed for the courage and strength to go through it all.
This move was so stressful, and my anxiety level was rising. We saw Killian for the last time and said very sad "see you soon"'s to him. As we traveled from Alabama to Wisconsin...from warm weather to snow...I was met with even more hurdles...the anniversary of my step-dads death, saying hello's and then shortly after, goodbye's, to family...things that would normally be hard. Stressful. But with everything else on my plate, it all seemed to be such a huge weight. So hard to deal with. Such a heavy burden.
Despite, I tried my best to keep a positive attitude. To be happy for my family while we were traveling. To not let the stress get to me. I look back now, and I don't know that I always succeeded.
During the weeks leading up to our court date... the date set to see if the judge would grant me, a military wife, permission to move my son to the Air Force Base in Japan that my husband had been assigned to... my stomach was in knots. I was beginning to see physical sings of the stress that I was enduring. It wasn't good.
I don't know exactly how I made it through that hard month of sleepless nights. Yes... I do. The Grace of God. Because He doesn't give us anything that we cannot handle. Because eventually, in there, I was able to take some deep breathes and know that I no longer had control. That there wasn't anything more I could do about it, and that the outcome was going to be what it was going to be.
On my way into the courtroom on that March morning, just days before our scheduled flight to Japan, the knots in my stomach started to return. So over and over in my head I recited The Serenity Prayer. As cliche as it may seem, it was helpful. The repeated...
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.
It helped. As I sat in that courtroom...my mom and my husband by my side... with my son's father, waiting for the judge to tell us her ruling on the parenting plan and the request to relocate, I had peace before I ever even knew the outcome..
(to be continued...)
