Jessica Sutherland
Spouse Name: Kenny
Branch: Air Force
Homecoming: May 2020
Instagram: @jesstagirl
No Strangers to Deployment
We’ve been through six deployments before this one. When he left we were living in San Diego, but with three young kids, we decided it’d be best if I packed up everything and moved home to Albuquerque, N.M., so we could be near family.
The yearlong deployment was pretty standard—we settled into a routine fairly quickly and went on with our lives. But we didn’t have support from the military side, which was vastly different from our past deployments.
On the flip side, my civilian community stepped up in a big way. Although they’re not immersed in our military lifestyle, they adapted and were there for me every single time I needed anything.
My kids showed me just how resilient they are. They didn’t just go through a year without their dad, they also moved away from their best friends, their schools, routine, and familiarity, and then they were uprooted again when COVID shut our world down.
The Unknown of the COVID-19 Shutdown
From the very beginning of the deployment we had an end date circled on the calendar. The kids and I “celebrated” every month on the date he left by getting a treat and making it through another month. We had donut dates, ice cream treats, and special outings; they thrived with seeing an actual date to look forward to instead of dreading the time away from their dad.
Once our state’s shelter-in-place order went into effect, it was like time stood still. The eight weeks we spent in “lockdown” were the longest and hardest days of my life. My personal support system was stripped away, my kids no longer went to school, there was this crazy virus spreading throughout the world, and there was nothing we could do about it except stay home.
We kept getting return home dates, and they kept changing. To add an extra level of stress, we got an OCONUS assignment notification for this summer. Our landlord insisted that we had to follow through with vacating our house at the end of May, regardless of whether my husband came home and we had the military to move us.
Groundhog Day
I still had to wipe butts, sweep away tears, kiss boo-boos, become a teacher, feed four mouths at least three times a day, field all the questions about the virus and when their dad was coming home, and find time—or a way—to refuel in the hour or two I had alone every night before repeating Groundhog Day again the next day. We were living through a pandemic with zero military support; we had to be out of our house in less than a month and had zero ways to make that happen.
Honestly, I don’t know what kept me going. I turned to my faith, friends, and family, and I just kept getting out of bed every morning and literally putting one foot in front of the other.
“Is Papa Still Coming Home?”
About three months before my husband came home (and before we realized the seriousness of the coronavirus) the kids and I created a countdown chain. Then the military stop movement order came, and my oldest asked me if her Papa was still coming home. I told her that he would, but I didn’t know when. She suggested we stop doing our countdown that day.
Since I didn’t want to keep yo-yoing them around, we just didn’t talk about it. Our one-year mark came and went, and we “celebrated” with some frozen Italian ice that we ate at a park while they begged to play at the playground.
I decided I wouldn’t tell the kids he was coming home until he was actually on an airplane heading our way. Thankfully, that day came just four days later.
I decided to tell them that he really, actually, for real was coming home by putting our countdown chain back up with only three loops—one for each kid. The mood around our house during those three days was lighter and happier than it’s been in the past eight weeks—the excitement was infectious.
The morning of his arrival I was excited and relieved.
Homecoming Morning is Finally Here…Masks and All.
The airport was pretty much a ghost town despite it being a beautiful Sunday morning. We donned our masks and kept our distance with the few people we saw.
My little family and I watched as his plane landed, and we eagerly awaited his arrival. I wish I had recorded this next scene, because it’s something I never want to forget. I’ve never cried at my own homecoming before. But this time, watching my kids literally squeal with delight as they saw their dad walk towards them? Warm tears flowed down my cheeks as I watched my kids run to their dad. They practically knocked him over as they hugged him, and they didn’t let go. Not that I could blame them. The smiles on their faces said it all. After 369 days, he was finally home.
When it was my turn to get a hug and a kiss, I finally felt myself relax. The stress I’d been harboring since the beginning of this deployment started melting away. He was finally home, and I could breathe again.
To the Spouses Still in Waiting…
Honestly, I feel guilty that he’s home and others are still out there just waiting for their homecoming date.
When I’d feel like I was about to lose it and couldn’t handle one more date change, I’d focus on breathing. I’d take deep breaths and ground myself in the situation. Finding one or two people I could confide in also helped immensely. I didn’t want to continuously break down or get upset in front of the kids, so I (virtually) turned to the people in my life I could trust to listen without judgement. Sometimes you just need to get those emotions out, whether it’s yelling and being angry at the circumstances, or to ugly cry in the corner of your laundry room.
I also suggest not sharing a date with your kids until you’re at least 97% sure it’s not going to change again. There’s nothing worse than letting your kids down with yet another date change.
