It’s been awhile. About ten billion things have happened, all cementing the fact that moving/stress/a new environment is definitely the way to take my mind off of things. And timing-wise it all worked well. Going through everything we have the last few weeks on top of still majorly grieving any earlier would have been impossible. I needed time to process Zoe’s death and to go through the roller coaster of emotions. But any longer to dwell and I would’ve gone crazy. I haven’t cried in weeks. I think of her often, but never with gut wrenching sadness. I still have times when I have to catch my breath when she slips into my mind, but it’s not completely debilitating. I’m over the worst of it. There are still going to be plenty of bad times, but I’m okay. We’re okay.
All of it made me wonder what it would’ve been like if we had a 4 month old to worry about on top of it all. How would my sleep deprivation effected my dealing with the unbelievable stress of our stuff packed like shit? Seriously, I can’t even describe how horribly our stuff was packed. For me the icing on the cake was our 50 inch plasma TV (which is in the military moving contract that it has to be crated) shoved into a box the packer made by taping broken down boxes together. He didn’t even wrap it in paper before sticking it in there (not that it would’ve survived even if he had used paper, but still!).
When we were finally blessed with the 2 most amazing packers I have ever seen on Friday morning (the day we were supposed to be leaving, not still packing and loading) to completely repack our house, exclamations of “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” and “YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING!!!” were heard all morning. We were continuously asked if it would be okay if they took pictures to show their bosses and other professional packers the shitshow our boxes were.
Box that popped open all by itself.
This is how the majority of our boxes looked.
How all of my lamps were “packed”. Lightbulb and all.
My TiVo. In a suitcase.
At least this box had paper…even if the breakable things weren’t wrapped in it…
I asked Deshawn what he thought the worst part was and he told me “The kitchen, hands down. They didn’t use a single piece of packing paper in any of your kitchen boxes.” Just so you know, every single plate, cup and bowl we own are glass. I know Jeff’s breaking point was when we discovered his $1,000 dress mess uniform crumpled in a ball at the bottom of a box under a bunch of shoes. Especially sncece he had specifically told them to pack it with care.
The dress mess is under all that crap.
I have never seen him so angry in my entire life. I nearly lost it when I found my iMac desktop at the bottom of a box under a bunch of other stuff. It goes without saying there wasn’t any paper in that box either. All I can say is thank god for Jason, our driver. Even at 6 pm on Thursday night when he was running around like a madman trying to repack our house himself, not knowing if he was going to get paid for his hard work, and Jeff and I were beyond caring and told him to load everything as-is, we’d just buy new stuff, he said “Absolutely not. I still care about your stuff and I’m not letting it all get destroyed.” Sorry babe, but Jason is my new hero.
I can’t even imagine how things would have gone if I was waking up every 3-4 hours to breastfeed Zoe on top of the whole ordeal. I was already sleeping like shit from the stress of it all; that would’ve made it even worse. If you know me well you know that I can be a real bitch when I don’t get enough sleep, so I can only imagine what my repeated messages to the moving company would’ve sounded like. I tried to keep it civil in the beginning, knowing it wasn’t the contractor’s fault, but by the end it WAS their fault because they didn’t do anything to remedy the situation, even though we gave them a full 36 hours notice to fix the problem. When the second crew (aka two guys) was sent out to fix the problem and one of them was from the original crew, I called TMM in a panic and requested more/different people. I was told, “Well I’m 99% positive there isn’t anyone else to send. Everyone is booked so I’m not going to try. You’ll just have to hope that they retrained him and now he knows the way he packed before is wrong.” Okay I need to stop thinking about this. I’m getting all worked up again…
And what would’ve happened with the cleaning? The truck pulled out of our driveway at 11 am. Move out inspection was at 2. Fortunately we had the presence of mind to hire a cleaner, so instead of heading off to a leisurely brunch while J was in school, C was at hourly and hired help cleaned our home, we pitched in instead. We finished in the nick of time. What would we have done with Zoe though? I wouldn’t have put her in hourly, figuring she doesn’t talk or walk so she wouldn’t trample on our adult time, hahahaha, so I wouldn’t have been able to help clean (or at least not as much). Would we have finished in time?
What about on the road? How would we have split the kids? Would Jeff FINALLY have had to take a child during a PCS?!?! We were already stopping every 2-3 hours for fuel, so feeding her wouldn’t have been an issue. But would she have followed in her brother’s footsteps and hated riding in the car and screamed the entire 1100 miles?
How would the different sleeping arrangements in the camper effect everyone? J would be on the table, C would still be in the bottom bunk, Roman would be in bed with Jeff and Zoe and I would share the top. Would Roman be less annoying since he was on the bed? Would J still be sleeping til 9 am if she was in the middle of the camper? Would I have broken my neck trying to climb in and out of the top bunk?
And the biggest what-if: housing. Housing for students is a cluster fuck. It’s all on a first-come first-serve basis. Houses can’t be filled until the last class gets out. Move companies are completely booked. There are two housing areas that are available immediately, Old Oregon (which is tiny) and Infantry Barracks (which is historic, doesn’t have a garage or a yard, and in an apartment setup so half of the units are upstairs). If you want any of the newer housing you’re looking at a 2 week wait. And then an additional 2 weeks after that for household goods. It’s only 11 months so we already knew we were going for Infantry Barracks. And the moment I walked into the first house we looked at I fell in love. High ceilings, real wood floors, open…it’s gorgeous. Even if I had the choice of the new housing, I would’ve picked Infantry. However–we’re on the second floor. It’s barely possible with a 140 pound dog and a two year old. There’s no way we could’ve done it with a dog, a 2 year old, an incredibly lazy 5 year old (I’m already bracing myself for all of the complaining…) and an infant to boot. Lugging the stroller up and down. Having to carry her (and Jordan). Not possible. So what would’ve happened if we would have had to wait for other housing? Or for a bottom unit to open up? And the bottom ones are only 3 bedrooms–would we be able to make that work?
I am not in any way shape or form trying to insinuate that things are better because we didn’t have to deal with the stress of a 4 month old. That never once crossed my mind. I would still give anything to have her here with us; we would’ve figured everything out with her just as we did without her. I just wonder how it all would’ve been different. Just like every time we move and we have to make a choice between our top two housing choices–how would our experience differ if we had chosen the other one? If we had lived on post at Fort Riley? If the adorable house in Narberth had called a day earlier saying we were approved and we moved in there instead of the second floor apartment in Philly? If we had lived off post at Lee? I don’t regret any of those choices (well maybe the apartment in Philly…that was just awful), but I do wonder how completely different our experiences at each duty station would have been. And that’s just a house.
Oh and we do have results from the autopsy. Bottom line: no idea. More to come about that next time…