Army Wife Chronicles: My Wounded Warrior

On March 4, 2008 at 9:10am I got the phone call that every military wife dreads. The phone call that they prepare for but never expect. The phone call that seems like it would be better than a knock at the door. I received the phone call that my husband had been injured. "What do you mean? How hurt is he? He stubbed his toe, right? It's not so bad, right?" The voice on the other end answers, "He was flown to the nearest hospital and he's currently in surgery. He sustained injuries from an IED and I don't know much more since the incident occurred only 2 hours ago." At that moment, I could feel my heart beating in my throat. The tears are streaming and the friend I had on the other phone was already in her car driving to my house.

The days it took for him to get from Iraq to Germany to Walter Reed felt like months. I arrived at Walter Reed Army Medical Center within hours of him arriving. The month we spent there is like a fuzzy blur. After several surgeries to the arteries in his leg we were sent back to Ft. Campbell to begin his recovery. After we arrived home I watched him go from a wheelchair, to crutches, to taking his first steps. Even after we, more importantly HE, experienced a year of physical recovery and pain; he is currently serving his 3rd tour overseas as an active duty soldier. To me and our children, he is a hero. Not just because he suffered an injury, but the entire year he was recovering he wanted nothing more than to be with his "guys." He wanted nothing more than to get back out there and do his job. I didn't understand this for a very long time and I still don't think I can grasp it fully. My husband is a soldier. He is my hero and my soulmate.