Some days, I feel like two people. I try and be a strong, supportive wife for my husband — and the quietly anxious woman bracing for the next deployment or training mission, the next stretch of solo parenting, the next round of doing it without him.

(Before I go on, I want to shout out all the solo parents — you are absolutely incredible. Truly.)

My husband is in the military, and that means he's gone a lot. For training, for missions, for long stretches of time when life keeps moving — and I do my best to hold it all together. He carries a weight I can see in his eyes every time he packs. A guilt that he’s leaving me to manage the house, our daughter, the details. It’s heavy, and I know he feels it.

I remember one time, right before he left for a longer training, our daughter had just started a sleep regression. Survival mode activated. I remember before he left, and during the training I made sure to mask my stress and encourage him so he can be successful in the work and long days, but then the day after he came home i BROKE. Mentally I broke down, I cried and all my stress came out at once. I felt so guilty for it. Now we have another long stretch ahead of us and I am trying to figure out how I can manage better so that doesn't happen again.

Most days, I manage (you don't really have a choice). Some days feel harder than others. 

There’s pride in this life — in who he is, in what we stand for — but there’s also a quiet endurance that doesn’t always get seen. We both give a lot in different ways. His sacrifice is visible. Mine stays tucked into daily routines, decision-making, cooking, grocery runs, bedtime stories, and midnight wake-ups and going to work TIRED. The little things that no one notices — unless they stop happening.

It’s not always easy. But it’s ours. And I wouldn’t trade the heart behind it for anything. The situations however, girl yesssssssss.