Tag Archives: army wife

March 8, 2012

Surprise! We’re Polygamists!

Last year on this day, I wished my husband a Happy 8th Anniversary.

Today I seek to do the same, only I’ve decided to unleash our skeletons from the closet and announce to all of you that we are Polygamists.

Yes. You read that correctly.

No. It is not another woman. Or another man.

Nine years ago today, in a beautifully rustic stone forge built in 1757, in front of just twenty-two people and an Army Chaplain, I married the SGM and The Military.

Polygamy wasn’t previously on my radar. I grew up Catholic, so it’s kind of a no-no. But it was pretty clear that this was a packaged deal and I wasn’t getting the SGM without also making vows to The Military.

While the first several years of marriage tested SGM and me to our very core with deployments and unexpected parenthood and less-expected feeding tubes and heart surgery and autism, I don’t think The Military struggled with these life events as much as we did.

The Military did come with a dowry that sounded pretty great on paper. Steady income, medical and dental benefits and life insurance. Then there were the perks such as travel, military galas and ceremonies, and all the ibuprofen a girl could ever want or need. In reality though, I am not the one who gets to travel and I can bet the SGM would pick better places to visit that do not involve terrorists. Our Battalion doesn’t do galas, so I don’t get to dress up like a goddess once a year and get tipsy at an open bar. Lastly, I pay for my ibuprofen out-of-pocket because I am a dependent not living near a Military Treatment Facility.

But I keep my vows to The Military despite the fraudulent dowry. I don’t argue when SGM is called away to war. I man the homefront when he is gone, whether for two days or two hundred. I fix leaky faucets and take the air conditioners out of the windows in the fall and lug them up to the attic. I bite my tongue on the telephone as much as possible so that he isn’t burdened by stressors at home such as I.E.P.s when his stressors at work are I.E.D.s.

Sometimes in polygamy, you are just the odd woman out. After nine years, I am confident The Military has had a lot more say in how SGM spends his time but I am not jealous or resentful of The Military. Remember, I signed up for this.

However, I do have a bone to pick with The Military on our anniversary today, and flowers and a card are not going to smooth things over this time. I want OUR children to be better cared for whether one of them needs open-heart surgery or autism therapies. Step up, The Military. SGM and I have upheld our vows. It is time for The Military to take a turn and uphold its vows to care for us in good times and bad and stop the segregation of medically necessary treatments for autism into ECHO where they are no longer available to us when SGM retires. C’mon, The Military – Remove that arbitrary dollar cap on autism care that limits therapies to less than half of what is recommended by the American Academy of Pediatrics, the National Academy of Sciences, and the Navy and Army Surgeons General.

I want to grow old with both my SGM and The Military. I want our service and sacrifices throughout our marriage to mean something more than idle promises to care for one another. I want The Military to continue to care for our children after retirement as it claims to do. Because even if retirement was the equivalent to divorce, The Military would still owe child support. It was all part of the agreement we entered into when we forged this relationship.

And really, SGM doesn’t get to pick and choose which of his children he cares for, why should The Military?

We’ve got some things to work out, The Military. Like all marriages, there have been some major bumps on this ride but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Let’s make this right for all of our kids, ok?

Happy Anniversary, SGM and The Military.

I love you both.

[One in eighty-eight military dependent children lives with autism and current military insurance does not provide adequate care. Dependents of retirees, even those of Wounded Warriors, receive NO autism benefits. Please show your support for HR2288 - Caring for Military Kids with Autism Act (CMKAA) at http://cmkaa.org. There are three easy ways you can choose one-click support of this critical legislation.]

10 comments | tags: 1 in 88, army, army wife, autism, caring for military kids with autism act, cmkaa, ECHO, hr 2288, marriage, military, TRICARE | posted in Uncategorized

March 2, 2012

Random Acts of Drive-By-Awesomeness

By Rachel Kenyon

It’s Friday night.

I have had an unusually serious go with depression and anxiety this week. To top it all off, just when we get Crappy Transportation Company straightened out, SGM leaves for a long drill weekend.

It was work to engage with my kids this afternoon. But in the end, some snuggle time with The Boy reading some Dr. Seuss together worked wonders. So did the few moments RM asked me to come play with her and decided she needed to test me on my sign language. Like for real. “Mama. Sign ‘kitchen’, Mama!” It’s a good thing I still know at least half the signs she does.

After dinner and an attempt to get RM to use the potty (which resulted in a stopped-up shitter and actual shit on the floor) I poured a glass of wine from a new bottle I thought I would try. This is the enthusiastic picture I posted on facebook:

Blerg. It tasted like the name.

Oh well. I actually dumped the bottle, which is something I never do. It was that distasteful.

It’s not like I was ready to jump out the window (we live in a ranch) but I was feeling a tad bit defeated. I cleaned up the remains of the day that littered the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher and tried another round of taking RM to the potty.

I was just getting RM through the routine of brushing teeth – “Wa! Do! Fee! Foe! Fie! Ih! Evan! Ay! Nie! Tay!… Wa! Do!…” You get the idea. Like many of her rituals, we need to brush teeth the same way every night, counting to ten with every section of her mouth that is scrubbed.

The doorbell rang. I was startled. But I was also in mid-brushing with RM, so by the time I got to the door a mysterious minivan was driving away and I looked down to find this:

It was a Drive-By-Wine-ing.

As I stood there in a complete daze, in shorts and a tank top, no makeup and piss on my socks from RM’s attempts on the potty, it just wasn’t computing. I felt like the guy in the Nyquil commercial praying for a Better Looking Tomorrow.

But this was becoming a Better Looking Night Tonight for sure. But I still had no idea whodunnit. I posted this picture on my facebook page:

I wrote underneath it: “Cheers, Phantom!!! OMG THIS WINE IS AMAZING! Thank you so much. Your timing and thoughtfulness are divine. I was having a rough go this week for sure and a real bummer that SGM is not here. Again, thank you :0)”

The Phantom eventually fessed up. And I was taken aback. Speechless. I will only say that this woman and I have never spent time together and this gesture of hers was so much more than a bottle of wine for a fellow mom – it was a reaching out with these kind words attached, “You have had an amazing month, you deserve it!”

Thank you, Phantom. You have restored my faith in everything simple and kind.

Cheers to you, Phantom!

2 comments | tags: army wife, autism, random acts of kindness, special needs | posted in Uncategorized

February 7, 2012

Late Bloomer

By Rachel Kenyon

“I want to tell you that Rachel is incredibly special in so many ways, and yet I want you to know that she’s not special at all. I want you to know that there is nothing in her that is not in each and every single one of us, and that once it’s awakened, it can move mountains.” – DOAM.

I grew up the last of five kids who were eleven, nine, seven and five years older than me. From as far back as I can really remember my childhood they were already growing up and moving out. I always felt so far behind.

I was the awkwardly tall girl in elementary school. Tall and fat. Like uber-fat and had short hair and I liked to play football with the boys in my neighborhood. Can you see where this is going?

Anyways, my siblings gave me a lot to live up to. My oldest brother got like one answer wrong on the Math SATs and is literally one of the nicest human beings on the planet. My other brother, devastatingly handsome and the football star in high school, was the hilarious smart-ass who has always been much more brilliant than he has ever given himself credit for. My oldest sister has worked for MIT and other top slots as a business recruiter. My other sister graduated college with a dual degree and now works in state advocacy for persons with disabilities. There isn’t a dud in the bunch.

Then there’s me. I will let you in on a little secret. I didn’t graduate high school. There. It’s out.

Not for lack of trying. Well, actually that’s exactly why I didn’t graduate. I didn’t try. I didn’t like school back then. I found it so hard to pay attention in the classroom when my social anxiety and chubby sense of humor got the best of me. I wouldn’t say I was the class clown but I wasn’t exactly quiet and focused on academics. I wasn’t a popular kid but I suppose I was well-liked enough. I wasn’t a trouble-maker but I was not a saint. I didn’t drink, I have never tried drugs and I always had a decent part-time job throughout high school. SGM says it sounds like I was Switzerland – kind of a neutral entity. He pretty much nailed it.

The truth was that I didn’t want to try and then find out that I wasn’t in the same league as my siblings. So I rebelled a bit, found myself skipping classes and then manipulating the vice principal to avoid Saturday detention. (I had been teaching Catholic Catechism classes at my church which I really loved doing and convinced the administrator at school that I was a good kid already doing community service.)

My guidance counselor was kind of a joke. My senior year he tried to convince me to repeat because I was a half-credit shy of my English requirements. I told him plainly that I spoke the language fairly well having been born here and that my writing was sufficient enough to score him a beautiful letter of resignation if and when he grew a conscience and decided he had chosen the wrong profession. We did not part ways on good terms.

I decided instead to take the easy way out and spend two Saturday mornings pencilling in some bubbles on the GED. I passed, with Honors which I found rather absurd at the time that there even was such a classification.

The short version of the next several years is that I tried a couple of different colleges with really no success. My grades were iffy and I just wasn’t finding my place. But I worked and had some good jobs, some fun jobs, and I was independent. I just hadn’t really grown up yet.

Then I met my husband. It was a done deal from that first date. We were living together within two weeks and within a year we had a house, I was raising a teenage stepdaughter and expecting a baby of my own. By then it wasn’t a matter of when I was going to be grown up – I was a grown up.

But marriage and motherhood suited me. Military life worked okay for me, too. I could appreciate the time apart from my husband while he was away, because it made the time together more precious.

I went back to school again but this time I was motivated. I had a 4.0 first semester and at least nine years on every kid in my classes. I was accepted into the honor society Phi Theta Kappa. That’s Phi Theta, not Phi Beta Kappa – I was attending community college. But do you know what the President of the school told us at our induction? He said, “Do not ever believe that because you began here, that you have not earned the right to finish there.” He was speaking of Harvard and Yale. It was a life-changing moment for me. After believing for so many years that I was not in control of my life possibilities, that instead there was some sort of station that I had already cemented myself within, I now was free to do or become anything I wanted.

After I became pregnant with RM, and SGM was leaving for deployment number one to Afghanistan, I understandably took a break from school. It was good timing and would allow me to process the possibilities of what to pursue next. But RM’s arrival was a complicated one, and the road since has been bumpy. School would have to wait.

When my daughter was diagnosed with autism and I found out what little services are available to our military families, I was OUTRAGED. I mean, seriously? My husband gets shot at by Taliban and our kid gets left behind on the battlefield back at home? So. Not. Cool.

But who am I? What could I possibly do to change this cluster%#@&?

Well, actually, little ol’ me who never graduated high school and still has yet to earn a college degree, did do something about it. I spoke up.

That’s it.

I just spoke up. I said THIS. IS. WRONG. I said our military families deserve better for their children with autism.

There is not a class for this. Well, actually I am sure there is somewhere and it is probably very informative, but it is not a prerequisite to make the world a better place.

So, whether you’re a Late Bloomer like me, or you have advanced degrees in ass-kicking advocacy and legislative endeavors – do something. You are just that incredibly special in so many ways, and yet I want you to know that you’re not special at all.

[Click --> HERE <-- to support HR2288 by asking your Member of Congress to move this bill forward! Thank you!]

13 comments | tags: 1 in 88, advocacy, army wife, autism, caring for military kids with autism act, cmkaa, congressional briefing, ECHO, hr 2288, TRICARE | posted in Uncategorized

February 4, 2012

Military Families with Autism Finally Make it to ‘The Show’

By Rachel Kenyon

[Click above image to see coverage of HR2288 on Andrea Mitchell Reports MSNBC]

TRICARE does not cover autism therapies. A separate arm of services called the Extended Care Health Option (ECHO) which is secondary to enrollment in the Exceptional Family Member Program (EFMP) does offer what amounts to an average of 11 hours of ABA therapy per week – far below the recommended 25-40 hours per week.

With HR2288 - the Caring for Military Kids with Autism Act, we are asking that TRICARE take autism therapies out of ECHO and place them as medically necessary as part of TRICARE standard – thus making these proven treatments available to all active duty and retiree dependents and removing the dollar cap on care.

ECHO is not available to retirees.

Wounded Warriors who are forced to retire due to injury or disease do not have access to autism services. According to TRICARE/DoD data, less than 10% of active duty families who do have access to ECHO are accessing autism treatments, yet none are receiving the recommended amount because of the dollar cap ($36,000 per year).

Also, families accessing autism therapies under ECHO are forced to choose between ECHO benefits in order to maximize autism therapies. For every dollar of ECHO benefits used towards other services, a dollar of ABA is essentially taken away. We seek to change that. Autism therapies should not have barriers to receive care, they should be equally accessible to the military family as would treatment for heart defects or a broken arm.

With the advocacy efforts of Autism Speaks, 29 states have now passed insurance reform to include autism therapies as medically necessary – we are seeking to do the same for our military families. This is not an issue of civilian versus military, it is an effort to level the playing field for ALL children with autism. This effort neither detracts from or argues the continued efforts to make proven treatments readily available to all. In fact, for TRICARE to step up with best-practice standard of care for autism treatment, they would be taking the opportunity to once again set the standard for medical care throughout the insurance industry.

Thank you to Peter Bell, Executive Vice President of Programs and Services for Autism Speaks, for his support! It is the hard work of everyone at Autism Speaks taking the charge to make this right, along with all of the tremendous work they do for families across the globe, that gives me hope.

And my absolute sincerest gratitude to Ms. Andrea Mitchell at MSNBC. Andrea was not only a gracious host, but she is personally committed to autism awareness for all of our families living with autism.

My thanks to Marvin, the lovely gentleman who drove me to and from the airport. And many thanks to the entire team at Andrea Mitchell Reports for welcoming me and my story and treating me with respect and kindness.

Cheers.

[Don't forget! You can write your US Representative & US Senator as often as your little heart desires! Tell them to support HR2288 --> HERE <--! THANK YOU!]

1 comment | tags: 1 in 88, andrea mitchell, army wife, autism, autism speaks, caring for military kids with autism act, cmkaa, ECHO, EFMP, hr 2288, military, peter bell, TRICARE | posted in Uncategorized

January 31, 2012

What I Signed Up For

By Rachel Kenyon

Of all titles I hold, Mother is the one that has brought me here today to speak to you. I am an Army wife as well, but that is a role I chose shortly after 9/11 with full knowledge of what I was getting myself into. War was imminent, terror threat levels were the new casual conversation and I was marrying a career soldier who told me his duty would always come first. And I signed up for that.

I signed up to serve my country, too.

And when my husband ran off with the other love of his life, the Army, to fight on the battlefields of Afghanistan as an Infantry Platoon Sergeant, I proudly kissed him goodbye as he patted my belly and told our daughter to behave for mama. He told her he’d be back to meet her when his work was done.

My husband was due home on leave for my daughter’s birth the following summer of 2006. He would arrive a day late to meet her, but in military life it was understood that a day late was far better than not at all.

Our daughter, RM, was born with special needs and required intensive medical care. She barely survived those first weeks and yet at 15 days old, my husband kissed her goodbye and headed back to Afghanistan. He would return home again on a Red Cross alert just days later as our baby girl began slipping away. My husband remained by her side for another two weeks of emergency leave to watch her inch her way to stable condition before leaving her in her hospital bed once again to return to war. Because that is what we signed up for.

It was my job to serve on the home-front. Our daughter had a feeding tube and was in congestive heart failure. She had open-heart surgery at 4 months old, but by then Daddy was home to help and RM’s health was improving. Not once did we worry about finding her the medical care she required. We felt blessed to be a military family and often joked that we only paid eight dollars for hospital parking for open-heart surgery – as it should be when you serve your country.

In early 2010, under falling snowflakes my husband kissed his healthy, beautiful little girl goodbye once more as the battalion loaded up and headed back to Afghanistan. This was Army life, so we wiped our tears and held our heads high, proudly waving to Daddy as they pulled away.

Now a Sergeant Major, it was only a month into my husband’s second tour in Afghanistan when he received my call to tell him – his baby girl had autism.

“What does that mean?” he said. “Please. Please tell me that she isn’t going to fall down the deep dark hole of autism.”

But I had no answers for him. I had no hope to offer.

I had no points of contact as an active duty Guard family. I had no one to ask, “What do I do next?” For the next several months, there were many more phone calls to my husband in Afghanistan, and still I had no answers to offer him.

What I had learned was that autism therapies were largely unavailable to our military families. I had learned that the small amount of services offered through the Extended Care Health Option were grossly inadequate and often impossible for military families on the move to access.

My husband has served honorably for 25 years. He was a scout sniper in Desert Storm. He has earned a bronze star, an army commendation medal and a combat infantryman badge with star for his service throughout two tours in Afghanistan. He has also been awarded a meritorious service medal, three more army commendation medals, six army achievement medals, and eight good conduct medals. He has earned the right to retire. But he cannot. Because he worries every day for our daughter and her future and he knows that he loses what little services are available to treat her autism if he retires. He worries every day that if he gets sick or injured and is medically retired, that he loses that coverage.

There is one more tour to Afghanistan on our horizon. And my Command Sergeant Major will go once again when duty calls. Because that is what he signed up for. That is what our service as a family requires of us.

But not being given access to the care our children need is NOT what we signed up for. This is NOT what any military family deserves. We sacrifice so much – YEARS at a time and we complain little.

Since my daughter’s diagnosis of autism, it has been my determination to see that the right thing is done here. Because if you ask any military family what they DID sign up for, they will tell you - freedom - yours and mine.

And as a mother, I simply cannot let any of our military kids go without the treatments they so desperately need to which their service to our country undoubtedly entitles them to. Because they did not sign up for THIS.

14 comments | tags: 1 in 88, army wife, autism, caring for military kids with autism act, cmkaa, congressional briefing, ECHO, hr 2288, military, TRICARE | posted in Uncategorized

October 28, 2011

Flags vs. Poop

By Rachel Kenyon

•

“I know you understand what I’m saying. When [SGM] called me and told me about Chris’ injuries – you do understand what that meant to me? I know I might be giving my husband, my children’s only father, for the freedom of this country. I know I may never see him walk through that door again. I know what I am ready to give. I know that is my job here. I get that. That is my choice.”

A conversation between myself and a family friend, April 2010.

•

It’s not about the flags. Oh, it was a rough week. It has been a rough month. The hockey game was no help. Suddenly I felt that my job here within these four walls was closing in on me and I just wanted a gentle nudge in the right direction. I wanted help in figuring out which path to take. God love him – I didn’t want the answer to be ‘all of that’.

Sitting by a large window looking out onto the ocean, we were enjoying some rare time alone. I had driven the hour down to the armory to meet SGM and he had chosen a cute little spot for lunch. He was actively listening to me rattle down the list of things I have going on right now – the kids and school stuff, RM’s impending need for further surgeries, the bill, the projects around the house. We both ordered burgers. It was comfortable and easy. But as I began to seek out his thoughts on where to begin with it all, I was taken aback by his answer – all of that.

What? My head was swirling, my stomach withdrew into a curly knot and I pictured someone yelling, “Get the paddles!… Charging to 300!… CLEAR!”

SGM is an amazing man. I wouldn’t know where to begin to describe the kind of husband, father and friend he has grown to be in the last several years. And please do not ask me to describe the soldier he has become. It is unfathomable. He is That Guy. He writes letters to Sped Directors from the Tactical Operations Center (TOC) in Afghanistan. He kicks ass on two continents at once.

Last night I was overwhelmed at all of that. I know I am capable, but damn I am tired. And my job doesn’t come with an operations manual, performance reviews or a chain of command to pass up grievances. As my partner, I had just wanted SGM to guide me in a few of those directions, not all seventeen. The chest pains were winning. I was kind of angry. But SGM had some pictures to show me from annual training this past summer – his first as acting Command Sergeant Major. Um. Ok. Let’s look at pictures of you and your Commandering…

SGM turned CSM, 102nd Infantry Annual Training, June 2011

But as I kneeled on the living room floor this morning searching for a nugget of poop that had been thrown at me, I thought about the flags again. I can only imagine it is a natural response to all that is swirling around me. It’s not jealously. I am proud of all he does. It’s the missing answer to my question – What about ME? Where do I begin? What path do I take now?

It’s not about the flags and it’s not about the poop. It is about understanding that sometimes in a partnership, one may soldier on along a path guided by signs and maps or a GPS while the other walks a path unknown. The destination may be the same, but the journeys are worlds apart.

I know we both have made sacrifices for our family and our country. I am proud of my soldier, and I am proud of my own service, too. I don’t stand before a formation of fellow soldiers with flags waving behind me – but I do stand tall among a village of fellow warriors. We don’t have uniforms and we don’t have a marching band, but we are conquering the world every day. For our kids. For our fellow warriors. And like my soldier, we do all of that.

And we do it for love.

12 comments | tags: army wife, autism, caring for military kids with autism act, cmkaa, military | posted in Uncategorized

September 27, 2011

Reconstructed

By Rachel Kenyon

Me: These rocks are freaking HEAVY.

SGM: It’s hot as balls today.

Me: No kidding.

It was a surprise to have him home yesterday. SGM had decided to take the day off and help me move some rocks in the backyard. One of the many hidden treasures in this otherwise old and battered little ranch – a ridiculous amount of beautiful field stones, large and small, that we hadn’t noticed when we first came to look at the house. Over the last nine years since, I had constructed a small rock wall that flowed along the front and side of the house containing a garden that I had long dreamed of growing. Many late summer evenings spent tending to young blooms those first few years. I was so very proud of all I had created – all I had poured my heart and soul into.

But hard times had come.

Prolific weeds had crept in and overtaken nearly every inch of breathing room between each of my precious budding flowers. There just wasn’t any time or energy left at the end of the day to fight back. I might grab hold of a single leafy weed or two as I passed by, barely noting the blooms being choked all around. It was too painful to look more closely and recognize all that had been forgotten and neglected. I was tired. So tired.

Two Afghanistan deployments, 4q deletion, autism and family drama had choked the life out of my garden – out of me. Out of motherhood, marriage and church, too. There were days I felt hollowed and left to compost.

Those Dog Days Are Over now. I have spent the last few months rebuilding, renewing. Everything. It started with a pile of rocks that I purchased three springs ago. Dumped at the end of our driveway, it took me more than two years to place the gravel in the garden beds one barrow-load at a time. Exhausting but rewarding work, it just took so much for me to find the energy among the chaos to get it done. But this summer was different. I was relearning what peace felt like. Rebuilding, renewing. Breathing. Relearning love, patience and quiet moments with my babies. Revisiting the love with my husband – what it felt like before and what made it new again.

Those weeds didn’t know what hit them.

The fury of which I ripped out the old and dying and replaced with new and exciting was dizzying. But oh, how it felt so good. Long summer days spent digging in the earth after countless hours wandering the local nurseries until I found just what I wanted to grow. What I wanted to grow.

It was an amazing summer. In so many ways.

The spaces between each of my precious buds are opened up once more, free breathing room to blossom. Space for roots to be nourished, leaves to grow lush and for petals to welcome the sun. As it should be.

Space in between my babies and me that can now be filled with sweet kisses and a thousand ‘I love you’s. I feel the love for my children more fiercely and softly than ever before. It hits me continuously like a freight train of feathers. Like the moment they came into this world, there is nothing else like it – every moment, every day. I can feel my heart once again booming, swelling, aching for them. As it should be.

Now lies space to be Me again. To be filled with time for reflection, personal pursuits and renewed confidence. To feel passion again for the sun on my face and the earth in my hands. I can breathe easy as I sway in the breeze with eyes closed and just daydream once again.

No more weeds. No more chaos. No more war.

All of which leaves me feverishly in love with the SGM. It’s a new love. It’s solid. It’s hot. It’s tingly and it fills me. More than just a tag-team that survived the last five years, we are in love. Madly.

Now that the gardens were tended to and made beautiful again, it was time to move forward. I was ready to build upon what I have and make it new again. I had always wanted to take the larger field stones and construct a fire pit. I dreamed of a relaxing space for us. Snuggling by a fire after a long autumn day of crunching leaves beneath giggly children’s feet.

So there we were, out in the yard working together to care for all we have built together over the years. Appreciating the old, moving on from the tired, and constructing what remains. Reconstructing from a solid foundation with an eye towards the future. A joyful future to be lived in each moment and savored like a fine wine.

Our new fire pit made of old stones is perfect. Last night after the children were tucked away, tuckered from a day spent in the yard and dinner served at the picnic table, SGM and I enjoyed the new Ranger TV. And I told him – there was nothing I could want for. I am so happy.

Thank you, My Love, for all of your hard work out in the yard with me this summer. Thank you for the strength and love you share. Thank you for each stone you labored over to reconstruct with me. What we have built and continue to grow is beyond blessed.