U.S. Air Force Mom

“I am the mother of an American Airman”

I give my complete and unwavering support to my Airman. As my son serves the people of the United States, so I humbly offer up my prayers for his safety and the safety and health of those he serves beside. I respect his choice to adhere to a strict moral code and system of values that has preserved our great country for over two centuries. I accept that my Airman’s first duty is to his country and I understand that this sacrifice he willingly makes is what keeps our nation great. I will never expect anything but the best from my Airman for I know he is capable. I know that an Airman’s heart is true and strong, and that my Airman will endure I will never abandon my Airman, my son, and my love. I will love him unconditionally. He will know I am there for him, even when he is alone. I am disciplined, emotionally and mentally tough, learning to wait for phone calls and letters or emails home. I, like my Airman, am an expert. I stand ready to do what ever I can do to let my son, my Airman, know that we are here for him, beside him, we love him and I will pray for swift destruction of the enemies of our country. I am the person who stood guardian of this man who has become my Airman, now our guardian of freedom and the American way of life. “I AM THE MOTHER OF AN AMERICAN AIRMAN.”

-author unknown

He’ll call, right? I know he will… And if he doesn’t, its not because there is something terribly wrong or because he doesn’t love me anymore; its just that life somehow got in the way, right?  Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. 

Every weekend, consistently, Anthony has called me from Basic Training.  Always me first then his girlfriend.  Usually Sunday late afternoon, although last week he threw me for a loop by calling Saturday.  Yesterday, moms and wives from his flight started posting that they had gotten their calls. But for me, no call.  Well, this could happen very easily if he had a duty during calling time. No big deal, he will get the opportunity to use his phone time after his duty is over, at his TI’s convenience. 

Its 6:21 his time on Sunday and still no call.  Panic is setting in. But why? When a rational person thinks about it, she would assume that if something was wrong then someone would call.  One check of the cell phone usage tells me that he has not used his phone since last weekend, so the assumption that he decided to phone somebody else instead goes right out the window.

So why the panic? Why this feeling that if this goes on much longer, I’ll forget to breathe?  Well, first of all, tomorrow starts BEAST week.  Put simply, they hike an incredible distance carrying about 45 pounds of gear to live in a simulated war zone for five days. Everyone especially looks forward to their pre- and post- beast week calls. And obviously, if I do not hear from him tonight, he will not have use of his cell until his post-beast call.

But it goes so much deeper than that. Because as much as its about him, its about me as well.  I am being very selfish.  I cherish our weekly ten minutes on the phone. Even Sunday nights I find myself looking forward to the next call.  But this Sunday night, all I can do is stare at the clock or phone and try to will him to call.  For me… Because I need it; because even though he is nearly 2000 miles away from me he is still the center of my universe. Because somehow hearing how strong he is gives me the strength for another week. Because when I hear his trials from the previous week, my week, no matter how trying, does not seem so bad…

So I know that he’ll call. And if he doesn’t, its not about him or about me; its just about life. (But oh, how I need that call…)

One of the most difficult trials my sons have faced was their black-belt test. They took them separately, about four months apart.  This grueling test lasts twenty-four hours and pushes them past their physical and mental limits. When they started karate five or six years ago, their dojo was just a little over a mile away.  Having witnessed others taking their test, I had always said that I hoped my sons would take theirs while away at karate camp, because I would be way too tempted to peek in the windows all night and check on them.  As luck would have it, by the time they were ready to test for their shodan (first degree black belt), the karate dojo had moved and was no longer right around the corner.  It was still pretty difficult to not go and peek in the windows, but I made it through. I just felt so helpless knowing what they were enduring and not being able to be there for them.

Now my Anthony is at BMT, all the way down in Texas.  How I long to peek in those windows.  And in a way I am. 

Facebook has been a wonderful porthole for me.  I belong to several discussion groups that are giving me little glimpses of his life at Lackland. In particular, there is a group for the moms (with siblings and significant others welcome of course) where people post little updates on their AB’s (airmen basic). It’s especially rewarding after the weekend when we all get voyeuristic and have glimpses into each others’ communications. Since we each have different conversations we gather so much more knowledge. One may post how a certain part of training went, while another may emphasize a specific punishment or achievement.  It’s like we all combine our 15 minute phone calls and make them last longer.  Another group is through Lackland basic training itself and there are a lot of people peeking into those windows.  Almost every weekday, they will post a few photos of the day.  Each day is a different flight.  There are over 6000 AB’s training at any given time, and around 50(ish) per flight, so the likelihood of catching a glimpse of a specific recruit is low.  But let me tell you, I and I’m sure so many others, wait diligently for those pictures to be posted, so hoping to catch a glimpse, peeking through a window.

Before Anthony left, I asked him to leave me his passwords for some things, including at least one email address, Facebook, and his banking.  I also have access to his cell phone records, since he is still on my plan. More windows… Every week I look at his cell phone usage to see if he was able to get in touch with his girlfriend, who he always tries to call after he talks to me.  It also gives me insight into how much phone time he has been alloted for the week, as sometimes they get a little extra for good behavior but he doesn’t always know that when he starts his call with me. One of the moms in the group had gratefully posted that someone had allowed her son to use his phone and I was so proud to see, peeking through that window, that it was Anthony. I could only imagine how that mom would have felt if she couldn’t hear from her son for weeks because his cell wasn’t working. Another aperture, which has been of no use yet, is the access to his banking.  I’m not trying to be nosey and see how much money he’s spending; that’s never been a concern with him. But I check it nearly every other day. Just wondering; seeing if there is any activity, any purchases, anything that he may possibly need that is not supplied to him. So in a way, I guess, peeking in that window and seeing no activity tells me that he is fine and has everything he needs.

In twenty-three days I will be peeking out a window, getting my first glimpse of Lackland Air Force Base, and the next day I will finally see Anthony in the Airman’s run, as friends and relatives try to find their AB’s  while they run by singing ‘jodies’ in flight formation for two and a half miles.

Those blackbelt tests, although only a year ago seem so far away now, and resisting the urge to peek in the windows seems so insignificant.  In a way I should be grateful that I’m nearly 2000 miles away, as there is no chance for me to physically be there, resisting once again. So instead, I’ll spend the next few weeks gathering what I can, catching glimpses, and peeking in the windows.

As I’ve mentioned before, I am what I call a “nervous knitter”.  I always have a project or two going and really need a creative “fix”.  The majority of my work goes to charities.  Sometimes I wish I’d kept track, but at over a hundred items a year, I must be approaching one thousand items by now.  The majority of these items are hats. Either hats for the less fortunate or for newborns (or premies).  I guess I settled on hats for several reasons, the main ones being that they use up smaller amounts of yarn, are fast to whip up (so I can touch more people), and are really mindless projects.  I can sit and watch television, hold a conversation, and even read a book while knitting a standard stocking cap. 

A few years ago, however, I decided to give in a slightly different way.  I had read about a need for special layettes. They contained matching gown, hat, booties, and blanket. Everything a newborn mother and child would love to receive. These layettes, however, were for bereavement purposes, meant to clothe stillborns or premies who did not survive.  I forced myself to make two such sets, all the while reminding myself how my work may add a slight bit of comfort to what I could only imagine would be a horrific ordeal.  Since I take my work everywhere, I was often asked the usual “what are you making?” and if I explained, I always got a little choked up, throughout the month or so that the sets took to complete.  Hardest, I would say, would be when the younger children at my sons’ karate would ask.  To many of them I just answered “baby booties to donate”. Lucky for me that they were too young to realize how tiny these items were compared to newborn size! 

Although very simple patterns, they were the most difficult items I have ever made.  I had a huge sense of relief the day I sent them off, although it did give me a good sense of accomplishment as well.

I receive a weekly knitting newsletter which acknowledges “Make a Difference Monday”.  This week, it is spotlighting Calypso’s Ocean, which concentrates on handmade items for neonatal death.  Let that sink in for a moment.  These are items made for babies who are born (usually prematurely), survive for hours, days, weeks or sometimes months, and are then called home. 

I have had my baby by my side for eighteen years, and last hugged him exactly four weeks ago.  Yet I tear up daily and over silly things that remind me of him.  Not that this is a bad thing or not justified but I need to put things in perspective sometimes. 

I have already begun a blanket for Calypso’s Ocean and will continue to make smaller blankets for these little angels until I get to hold my baby again. Giving to these tiny angels who have gotten their wings waiting for my to get his only seems fitting. And I’ll be counting my blessings the whole while.

For more information on Calypso’s Ocean, visit their site: http://www.calypsosocean.com/index.html (Visit the angel pages if you can bring yourself to do so)

Ten o’clock Jersey time on a Monday night. That’s nine o’clock Texas time which is lights out for my AB. But for some reason I can’t seem to get my (mental) lights out tonight. Nothing different happened today; nothing overly good, bad, or stimulating. I wrote my nightly letter, took the dogs out, shut off the lights (except the one I leave on for him) and headed up to sleep. Mind wondering as I tried to read, cried while saying my prayers then just unsettled.  That’s the only way I can find to describe it. Restless. Read some more. Breathe deep. Play a game my phone. Count. Breathe some more. Television on.  Pet the dog.  Check my facebook and email on phone.  Keep breathing. Play a stupid fishy game in my phone (okay, I’ll admit that worked while the game was going on but I can’t do that forever!)  Television off.  Listened to the voicemail he purposely left me for when I want to hear his voice (bad move).  Wonder if I will ever get used to this. Television back on. Start thinking that my son probably falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. Picture him sleeping peacefully now.  Picture his sleeping as a child and infant. Peace at last.

Last night lying in bed I needed to hear the message Ant intentionally left for me when he landed in San Antonio. In it he said that he had landed safely and was fine, that he loves me and will write and call every chance he gets. I’ve only listened to it five or six times, surprisingly less than I’d expected. As I closed my eyes and tried to begin my nightly “prayers” I couldn’t get his voice out of my head. I began wondering if he would even sound differently when I see him in July, with his added maturity. While giving my nightly thanks I thanked God for the strength He has given me and Anthony these past couple of weeks and suddenly felt a surge of guilt for being so sad and missing him so much. I know I am fortunate to have such a wonderful relationship with my son to miss him so much and  should be thankful that he is still here on Earth with me. Unfortunately, I know several people who have lain their sons to rest not to see them in this life again and here I am crying to be away from my boy for 9 weeks…

So I jotted down some notes to blog about this, looked at my favorite picture of my boys saying goodbye the morning Ant left, dug out the stuffed white tiger he got as a prize for feeding a real white tiger at six flags a few years ago from my nightstand  and rolled over to go to sleep… Hugging the tiger, still crying but even more thankful…

I wonder…

If you’re lonely.

How short your hair is.

If you’ve cried.

If you lost weight.

If you’re lonely.

If you like the food.

If they give you sunblock.

If you sleep well at night.

If you’re wearing green or brown camo.

If you’ve made friends.

If your feet hurt.

If  you stopped biting your nails.

If you’ve gotten my letters.

If there’s a stray cat around for you to love.

Where you sleep.

If you know how many times I’ve listened to your voicemail.

If you regret it.

If you know how much I miss you…