Today was my breaking my point. We've been stuck inside from heavy rain the past four days (we did go out and play in it here and there but it was just too much, too hot, and too humid!). Nya has been using the potty on and off for the past 8 months, so I took this opportunity to urge her into it full time. Since Jamie deployed about a month ago, she's been refusing to use the potty and has been challenging me with it every step of the way. Everything, for the most part, has come pretty easily and naturally...except for this. And I know my uncertainty and insecurity with the situation, is giving Nya hang ups.
I worry about having accidents in public. How bad will it be? Will it happen during gymnastic and make a mess of everything? What about on the hour drive to Wilmington? How will I clean the car seat? Will other kids make fun of her?
These fears haunt me: The unknown.
But my gut tells me she's ready. She's been ready. She knows when she has to go and has done it numerous times. It's me who is stalling her progress.
It's just one more thing that I'm afraid to tackle, and it all came to a head today.
Nya used her potty this morning, but I put her in a diaper for gymnastics. After class, I took her to the bathroom to try and go before we got back into the car. She screamed bloody murder, and I'm sure those parents around thought I was harming her in some way, since they've ever seen this quiet, polite child talk back, fuss, or cry.
One mother loudly proclaimed to her 3.5 year old son, "You do such a great job using the potty. I'm so proud of you!" as she gave me an averted glance. Another mom had the audacity to say to my daughter, "You poor, poor thing!" All I could do was smile and deal with the screaming child in front of me who continuously repeated, "Noooo Mommy!"
Wonderful.
We finally made it out of gymnastics and drove on to base. We haven't been on base since dropping Jamie off, and as I handed my military ID over to be checked by the Marine, Nya sobbed at the sight of him in uniform, "I miss Daddy. Daddy's working. Come home Daddy!"
This is when I lost it. I've been through deployments. I've been on my own a lot. I'm used to it and can handle it. But I don't want this for Nya. It's not the same as when he's been gone for a couple months or weeks at a time when she was younger. Her world is much different now at 22 months than it was at 12.
And with each deployment, or time spent away, Jamie comes home a little different, and we go through the adjustment cycle all over again. That is the part I hate, even more so than the actual deployment.
As I sat there with the stress of the past few days hanging on my shoulders, my heart crumbled and I began to cry. I don't want to make all of these decisions by myself. I don't want to handle everything alone. I want my partner here, making these decisions with me, and making our family whole. I don't know how so many military families do it. It's certainly not a life I want for my daughter, or my family.
And as my heart broke for her, I found myself getting angry with Jamie. He was supposed to be done with the military by now.We brought Nya into this world on the premise that we would be able to settle down and plant roots somewhere, instead of moving every couple of years. We were supposed to be WHOLE.
Every day Nya says she misses Daddy. And he misses these amazing moments of her life.
The transition to a big girl bed.
The transition from diapers to big girl undies.
Understanding new concepts.
Riding her trike for the first time.
The beginning of preschool.
Birthdays.
Holidays.
The every day life.
I tell Nya that I'm sad too, and that I miss Daddy. We talk about it; Daddy's job, what he's doing, and how much he misses her. And I just have to pull myself together and get back to my positive place. My job now is to fill both rolls for Nya, until Daddy is finally able to come home.
And our family can once again, be whole... For a little while.
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