An all too familiar news segment of a soldier having just returned from Iraq recently caught my attention. The soldier happened to be the father of a young school age boy. As he stood in the doorway of his son’s classroom, the surprised little boy ran into his father’s arms and buried his head in his chest. Like many similar moments these days, it was tender and poignant. It was also an “in your face” reminder of the daily sacrifices of our military – soldiers AND families.

I was 22 years old and eight months pregnant with our first baby when my husband left for Viet Nam. It is a clear and present memory that surfaces from time to time.

I remember we hardly slept at all the night before he left. It was as if each precious moment was not to be wasted on sleeping. We had an acute awareness of the separation that was in front of us and an unspoken fear of the unknown.

The climate of the day was dissension. “Hell no we won’t go,” was the mantra and disapproval of the war was at an all time high. Returning soldiers were often spat on and yellow ribbons were non-existent. Media coverage had technological restrictions and personal communication was limited to hand written letters, eight track tapes and MARS radio (Military Affiliate Radio System.)

Six weeks into his tour, our daughter was born at Ft. Belvoir, Virginia.

The Red Cross notified my husband of her birth. I followed up with a call on MARS Radio.“We have a little girl – OVER.”

“How are you? – OVER.” he would ask.

“Can you hear me?” we would both repeat. OVER. Not quite the conversation I had dreamed about!

There were hospital “wards” back then, usually four women to a room. Husbands were the only visitors allowed. I felt very isolated…and alone. New mothers had their own “drill.” We would get up, make our beds (don’t forget the military corners) and retrieve our babies from the nursery. All in a day’s work! Quite different from the homey “suites” new mothers enjoy today.

When our daughter was six months old, we traveled to Hawaii for the half-way reunion, R&R (Rest and Recreation.) We were a family for five glorious days followed by the inevitable separation. There was solace in knowing that the days ahead were less than the days behind.

And now the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, like all the wars before, have also spilled over to the home front. Life goes on. Babies are born, graduations are celebrated, and school plays are attended. But once again, families are struggling with the absent husband, father, wife, mother, child, brother or sister. Traditional roles are blurred as family members “pick up the slack.”

Military families, like the soldiers they support, are committed, strong and resilient. They are charged with “holding down the fort” in good and difficult times. Advances in technology can and does provide better communication between loved ones. Computers and video cams allow families to stay connected in a way never before possible. But no amount of hardware and software can replace the physical presence of those we love and miss.

If you are a Hybrid Mom who has been “holding down the fort,” I would love to hear from you. And I would like to thank you. You are amazing!

Bio: Yippee! I am free to be me! I retired from a nursing career (and other various pursuits) last year and am now exploring and developing my previously dormant, creative self. I love writing, acting, and acting like I’m writing. I live in Tampa, Fl with Prince Charming and within sniffing distance of five delicious grandchildren.