the unknown

To say I have a fear of the unknown is like saying the grass isn't green or the sky isn't blue. I suppose everyone does to some extent, but lately I feel like mine is exponential.

First of all, I didn't roll out of bed until noon, and then as I was walking to the hospital I spotted my dad - good thing I woke up when I did or he would've wandered around this base forever. So we visited for a while, and he took me to Target (which thankfully isn't very far from here at all) and out to dinner. I got back a little late, but Jason's dad and step mom were visiting with him for the evening. I did finally buy a pair of maternity jeans, even though jeans are not my favorite...for some reason I look much more pregnant when I wear maternity clothes. Why is this?

But after his dad left, we had a nice long talk about our feelings and stuff. What it boils down to is, this sucks. And I'm worried about everything. You would think that after something like this happens, I would learn to prioritize my feelings and worries. But I can't seem to do that. Now, I'm worried about even more. When will all our stuff get out here. How long will it take. There is a point when I won't be able to fly out there and pack my things. I love my things. I shouldn't love my things because they're just things. But they make me feel at home.

Oh, I think all this started because as Dad and I were leaving, I took him by this infamous building 62 where we will spend our days as outpatient. I asked for a tour of one of the rooms. Bad idea. Very nice rooms. But now my head is spinning.

They're all furnished, but obviously not with our furniture. Ours probably wouldn't even fit. A room with a double bed, and another with a twin bed. Ew. We just recently upgraded to a queen bed, and now we're back down to a double. A desk with a computer in each room. A small dresser and flat screen in each room also. Giant handicapped bathroom - like a hospital bathroom - so no storage. Pretty big closets in each room. Small living area with love seat and one chair and another flat screen. The military must think flat screens will win us over. So here's where my head starts spinning.

Obviously not enough storage - I fill a closet and two dressers with just my clothes. He has a closet and one dresser with his. Maybe we should bring a couple dressers and put them in the closets. But do we have to physically move them all the way to whatever room we're on? I'll be too pregnant to do this, and Jason obviously can't help, and our parents are getting old. Can we rearrange the furniture that is so neatly placed along all the walls? Do we HAVE to have the computers and desks in both rooms? They take up a lot of space. What do I need from Colorado. How many dressers? I don't want to get here and decide we need stuff and go out and buy it because everything is in storage and then we'll be left with double stuff when we already have too much stuff as it is. What about all our holiday decorations? Just go buy more? Ugh. Is that stuff necessary? No. Bathroom storage. There is none. No bath tub either, which is fine in the beginning with a baby, but I guess he'll just have to get used to showers eventually. Where will we put a crib? A changing table? We weren't going to get a changing table. I was trying to be practical and use a dresser that we already have. But now I don't know what's the best thing to do. A glider? I really wish we could bring our bed, but I'm sure that would be a pain to move. But would they let us?! Then I worry that wherever they put our stuff in storage, will end up on one of those Storage Wars shows and all our stuff will be auctioned off for $300. Not likely, but these are the things I worry about.

We're not allowed to hang anything on the walls right now. We'll need our filing cabinets with all the personal info crap we have. What about my diplomas? I don't really want those sitting in storage somewhere. But does it really matter? The giant box of memorabilia I have from high school and college? Guess that will have to go. The garage full of stuff that I don't even know what half of it is. The inherited dishes that my dad drove out to us last October which I told him was a bad idea...now we have to pack them back up and pray they don't break on the way back. The thousand kitchen cabinets we have full of dishes and fun things will have to be consolidated to about 10 cabinets now. I hope our big black Friday TV doesn't get stolen in the moving/storage process. I'm sure we'll have to bring along the xbox. Yay. I wonder how long he'll use the physical therapy excuse for playing video games :)

It is way past my bed time, but considering I've only been up for 12 hours makes it less bad I guess. Whenever I sit in his room, I catch myself periodically making sure he's still breathing. Is this the nurse, mother, or paranoia in me?

I think he hit the nail on the head tonight during our discussion. We had moved away from all our family, out to Colorado. We made it on our own, we were doing everything by ourselves. And now we are completely dependent on everyone else. It is not fun. It's like all those times you said "I'd give anything to be in high school again." Knowing what we know now, as adults, no you wouldn't. I hate the fact that half of our belongings will be God knows where. I'm sure another half will end up at my parents house or his. And now I'm already accumulating stuff in my little hotel room, and we're going to require a van just to move all the crap out of his hospital room. That's probably the type A in me, but I just can't function with all my parts in different places. We picked all those things out together, and everything, well most everything in that house has meaning. I would be devastated if it was all lost too. But, they're just things Stephanie.

I hate that we're just waiting. Waiting to find out when he'll be outpatient. Waiting to find out when I can go back to Colorado to finish everything there, or if I can even go back. Waiting for more surgeries. Waiting to walk again, to be normal again. Waiting to have our family in a proper home, with a yard so our dog can be ours again too.

We were so distant from our families, not on purpose, and only by distance. It's not like we didn't talk to them - I talk to my mom every day, still. But it was nice to have that distance sometimes, although we'd never know it then. When we were there we always felt left out because we were so far away and everyone else was somewhere on the East Coast. We felt like the oddballs of the family for being so far away. Now, we would give anything to go back. He would give anything (besides his right leg) to go back to Afghanistan and for life to be normal again. But then we'd never have the appreciation that we do now. So one day when we do finally buy a house we'll appreciate being on our own and doing everything for ourselves. Again. I hope.

He's still breathing. Good thing. Baby is awake like normal, another good thing. I don't want to scream at the top of my lungs that 'my husband got his leg blown off and that you should have more appreciation for your boring normal life' when I go out in public anymore. So that's a good thing. He's still the man I married, and I still love him the same. That's another good thing. We have the essentials for life right now, and that's a good thing. If only I could turn my brain off, that would be an awesome thing...