Talking to Your Kids About Reintegration
The other day the kids and I were sitting at dinner chatting about our cozy weekend we had been having, it had been pouring all day long, when the conversation eventually turned to Daddy and his deployment.
“When Daddy comes home can we all go bowling together? And we can all have a dance party? Like a whole family?” my 5-year-old daughter asked excitedly.
I nodded and smiled, “Of course, buddy. We’re going to do all the fun things when Daddy comes home. It will be like a big Welcome Home Daddy Celebration.”
She smiled and wiggled happily in her seat and put a bite of salmon in her mouth.
Her twin sister sighed and said quietly “I miss Daddy.”
“I know buddy, I do too. It’s hard when Daddy is gone.”
She nodded quietly and I reached for her hand and pulled her into my lap. We sat like that together and continued eating, still holding hands.
“It’s going to be weird to have Dad home though.” chimed in our 8-year-old, who had been quiet up until this point. “I mean, I miss him and stuff and want him to come home, but it’s weird to think of him being here. You know?" He squinted at me, and I could tell he was embarrassed or maybe a little ashamed to say what he was feeling.
I smiled at him and his little face that was covered in so many messy emotions.
“Can I tell you something?” I said, as I balanced my fork awkwardly with my left hand, as my right hand was still being firmly squeezed by my daughter.
“What?” my he asked.
“It IS going to be weird when Daddy comes home.”
My son looked at my startled, like I had confirmed something he was thinking and afraid to speak out loud.
“What?” he exclaimed.
“It’s going to be amazing to have Daddy home, but you’re so right it’s also going to be WEIRD!” I laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood as I reached into my brain to try and handle the situation that had presented itself.
“Remember when he first left? And everything felt weird without Daddy?”
He nodded, taking a drink of water.
“Well, when he gets home it’s going to feel weird getting use to him being home again.”
He just nodded, and I knew I needed to go deeper.
“Here, let me know you.” I said, adjusting my daughter on my lap, “It’s like this” I said to the three of them who were now all listening. I brought my hands up and interlocked my fingers, like a prayer.
“See my fingers? They are all connected into one fist,” They all nodded
“This is like when we’re all together. We’re all home and together and we are used to being together. Right? Now watch…” and I slowly started to pull my hands apart until my fingers were just barely touching each other “This is when Daddy has to leave, and it’s hard and we don’t want him to go, but he has to go do a very important job to help other people, and then…” and I pulled them apart completely and looked around at my kids, who were sitting spellbound. “This is when Daddy leaves. And he’s over here” I said, waving my left hand, “And we’re over here” And I excitedly waved my right hand.
The kids giggled.
“And we have to go for 6 months being apart, and we get use to this.” and I waved my hands at one another.
More giggles.
“And THEN!” I said, my eyes growing big “Daddy gets to come home!” I brought my hands closer together and slowly intertwined my fingers again “And he’s home and we’re so excited, but it’s also super crazy, and weird because we love eachother so much but we’re not really used to being with each other all the time.” I finally closed my hands into a prayer again.
“And that whole big thing is called Reintegration, and sometimes it’s even harder than being apart from each other, because…”
“Because we’re just not used to being together.” my son said with a little smile and a nod of his head.
“Exactly.” I said
The girls smiled and said something like “That’s cool mom!” and went back to chatting and eating their food, and I grabbed my son’s hand and squeezed it tight.
“It’s ok, buddy.” I said looking into his eyes that look exactly like his dad’s.
And I pulled his great 8-year-old body, onto my lap, and we hugged for a minute, until one of the twins made a fart joke and we laughed. Soon the table was back to “Can I have more salmon?” and “Close your mouth when you chew, dude.” and “Can we have dessert tonight, Mom? PLEASE?”
But for those few moments, I sat there explaining this weird life we live to my kids, and I hope and pray that something got through. And just maybe moments of uncertainty, when the countdown is almost done, and emotions are running high they can remember my hands interlocked and that none of this is easy or normal, but it’s going to be ok.
I hope this perspective helps someone out there, because I know I’m not the only one grasping with how to answer these questions. We’re doing great, guys. Don’t forget that.
-HR