American Wife (9 page)

Scalpel.

Sponge.

Sponge.

You can fill in the rest from your favorite medical drama. I was cruising along—figuratively, not literally—grooving on the medication, assured by Chris's rock-steady calm, until a splash of blood went
pooof
on the blue sheet in front of me.

Hmmmmph.

I looked at Chris. He squeezed my hand gently, smiling at the same time. We could have been strolling in the park on a summer's day, not a care in the world.

The doctors had hit an artery, which is not standard procedure. They worked quickly to deal with it—to this day I have no idea what actually happened, but whatever they did worked, because our beautiful Angel was born soon after.

Chris was the first person to hold her. The word
beaming
was invented to describe the proud expression on his face.

I went into the recovery room and slept for a while. When I woke up, Chris was holding Angel. He looked so natural with her—a big six-footer holding a six-pound bundle in the crook of his arm, already bonded to her.

“Do you want to hold her?” he asked.

I was exhausted, and I knew she was safe with him, so I told him no.

He forced himself to smile. He explained later that he thought my response meant I was rejecting the baby—having worked on a ranch, I guess he had seen animals do that, with dire results for their new offspring. But of course I wasn't; they just looked perfect together, and I was barely conscious.

I asked for her a few minutes later, when I felt stronger. He passed her on gently, and I held her for the first time. There is no way really to describe how that feels.

In many ways, the birth was a miracle, not a disaster. Because of Angel's dilemma, her father was able to be there at her birth—something that wouldn't have happened had that ultrasound been routine, since I would have waited another four or five weeks for her. A potential tragedy had been turned into something beautiful. It was quite a miracle, I thought, that he had been present for both births, despite the long odds against it.

Sometimes God's plan for us is difficult to decipher, but the end result can be far more wonderful than we thought.

I knew that. I felt that.

And yet, I had a terrible feeling, lying in the bed that night, one I couldn't shake and one I didn't dare put into words:

Maybe God gave Chris this chance to be with his daughter because he's going to die in Iraq.

Angel was born with jaundice, a not uncommon condition for babies born prematurely. She was also on the small side because of having been born so early. In the grand scheme of things, neither was very important. But they did add to my concern. And I was really scared about Chris going on that deployment, partly because of his having passed out before he left, and partly because of reports about the uptick in violence in Iraq at the time.

Adding to my angst was a difficult recovery from the C-section. I'd heard women say they were up mopping the floor within a day of the operation. I couldn't mop the sweat off my brow. Maybe it's a mind-over-matter thing, but if so, matter won.

I hurt!

And I hurt for a long time—eight weeks at least.

Add an active toddler to the mix and anyone would be a little stressed. The postpartum hormonal changes hit me hard. I was probably a little depressed, though not to the debilitating degree that sometimes hits new mothers. I would breast-feed with one hand while running to grab Bubba with the other. I was exhausted, worried, and ultimately angry with Chris for leaving me alone.

I certainly didn't want to worry Chris by sharing my feelings. Yet I found it impossible not to, largely because he knew me so well.

One night he called while the kids were sleeping. I was sitting on the bed, exhausted but unable to sleep myself. He must have heard something in my voice. “What's wrong?” he asked.

“I don't want to tell you this, but I'm angry with you,” I burst out, starting to cry. “I don't want to be angry with you. We didn't know we were going to have another baby when you reenlisted—but we did, and it's hard. I miss you.”

My emotions flooded out. Everything was contradictory. I wanted to support Chris—I wanted to be okay with his being gone, and yet I wanted him there with me.

I was angry with myself, too. I had had such a perfect time with Bubba, and now I was having great difficulty. Some of it had to be my fault, I thought. I wasn't happy—but I
should
be happy. I was a new mom again. I should feel overwhelming love and joy at having another child. A girl.

I couldn't be the kind of mom I wanted to be, and that made me feel even worse.

I don't remember how the conversation with Chris ended. Possibly Angel woke up, and I had to go comfort her. She would always cry in the middle of the night and wake me up.

Some nights I thought, Stop crying! Just stop!

A wave of guilt would come over me.

She's an infant, of course she's crying! What's wrong with you? How are you mad at this little baby?

It was a vicious cycle. I hated myself for not loving her perfectly, then grew angry that she had needs, then loved her immensely for who she was—all at the same time.

It was a brutal few months. Eventually, things started to settle and I felt better. I was fortunate not to need medication or serious intervention.

Not having Chris around made everything several times worse. We hadn't known I was pregnant when he reenlisted, but here we were. I was really sad, and I didn't want to be a bitch, but I was at times. It wasn't until I started getting myself back into shape that I began feeling better. Or maybe it was the other way around. I got a double stroller and I started wheeling both kids out. It was still tough, but the physical exercise helped.

RAMADI

Many people not familiar with current military tactics criticized Chris and all snipers for somehow fighting unfairly in Iraq, as if they were hiding far from danger when they went into combat.

I wish those critics could have spent five minutes in the hell that was Ramadi to see how wrong they were. Far from being “safe,” snipers and the others with them were constantly targeted by large groups of terrorists and insurgents, who used every weapon they had to try and kill them.

Chris went to Ramadi in 2006, during his third deployment to Iraq. Like Fallujah, Ramadi was in Anbar Province, an area rife with al-Qaeda and former Saddam loyalists. Sunni extremists had taken hold of the city and the SEALs were part of a push to pacify it long enough for the local Iraqi tribes to retake control. In the media, the efforts were hailed as “the Great Awakening,” supposedly because the Iraqis had finally decided on their own that they wanted peace and were going to kick the bad guys out.

The reality was a lot messier. The Americans had been criticized for operations in Fallujah and elsewhere that did a lot of damage to the buildings and local infrastructure. And unlike in Fallujah, there were still many civilians in Ramadi, as well as tribal leaders whom the Americans felt could be won over. For all of these reasons and more, the strategy in Ramadi was very different than Fallujah. Rather than moving through the city block by block, securing each area before moving on, the SEALs and others established small outposts in the worst parts, providing overwatch for operations on the streets nearby and helping arrest known terrorists. As soon as their positions were known, they became the targets. Insurgents, often using civilians as cover, would concentrate their attacks on the areas where snipers were posted. A group of three or six Americans would be attacked by dozens of enemy combatants.

By now, Chris had a reputation as one of the best snipers in the military—he got his hundredth kill soon after he arrived. And things continued to intensify. It was during this deployment that posters began to appear naming him as the “Devil of Ramadi” and offering a reward to anyone who could kill him. Those rewards eventually reached sixty thousand dollars.

But his emails back home barely hinted at the carnage.

April 22, 2006

Hey baby, sorry I wasn't able to call you, but our phone line is down. I will try to call you one more time before I leave. I'm sure you haven't even checked your email yet, so by the time you do I will be gone. I love you very much. You are an extremely strong woman. I don't know anyone else who could put up with all you do, and still hang in there. Tell Bubba and Angel I love them. I will call or write as often as I can. I love you so very much.

May 5, 2006

Hey baby, I'm back for the day and then I leave again tonight. Things are going well, just extremely busy. It's gotten to where people call up, they don't ask for SEAL snipers anymore; they are asking for me by name. The bad thing is there are too many for me to do, so I have to pass a few on to some of the other guys. My platoon is very supportive of me (probably because I always take a few of them), but my sister platoon has a lot of resentment towards me. It's pretty funny. They are just a bunch of whiny bitches anyway.

How are you doing? Are you healing up, and able to get around? I hope you can do all the things you used to real soon. I know that has to be a real bummer to be limited physically. I also hope you are being able to keep yourself a little bit happier. If you need to resent me to be able to make it through, I understand. I know you love me, and support me in whatever I do. I don't have to hear it all the time, or call home to hear just good things. If you need to unload on me when I call, then do it. Whatever it takes to make you feel better.

Is Bubba feeling any better? I hope his cold has gone away or goes away real soon. Maybe he will also be a little happier, and not so emotional. I miss that little guy so much. I carry around a picture of the three of us. The picture is of you and me in Oregon, one of Bubba is the one he pulled out from the computer cabinet with me and him sitting on the couch, and I have a picture of Angel and you in your bed at the hospital. I have such a beautiful family. I could not have asked for more. I am extremely happy.

Sorry babe, but I have to go now. I thought I had the day off until tonight, but I guess there is a mooj [enemy = mujahedeen] sniper I have to try to get before I leave tonight. I will try to call you before I leave tonight. I love you so very much, baby, and miss the hell out of you. You truly are a dream come true. I love you, Taya!

June 6, 2006

Hey sexy

Hey baby, it was very nice to talk to you last night. I am gonna try to call you again tonight. I can tell you a little more than I can on email. We did a big hostage rescue the other night, and did it very well. I can't tell you who or any other specifics, but it was a big deal. Everything is really going well out here. I am staying safe and not taking any stupid chances. I have too much to come home to. I miss y'a'll so bad. I would love to be able to hold you, and kiss you right now. I am not going anywhere tonight. I was, but it got canceled. I will be gone later though. On one of my ops, a guy asked me to carry an American flag in my gear and bring it back to him. He wanted to give it to his dad, and say it was carried on an op in Iraq. This guy is a reservist, and doesn't go on any of the ops. I told him I would. When I got back I gave it to him and told him what had happened on the op, and how many people I killed. Later he came up to me to show me a certificate. It was very well done, and looked sharp. He said with the way I am going he is gonna save the flag to give to the SEAL and UDT museum. He is on the board of directors. He thinks I am gonna be in the SEAL hall of fame. All the other guys keep saying someone is gonna write a book about me, whether I allow it or not. All the army guys have already been spreading the stories all over base. I go to the chow hall and overhear people talking about me not knowing who I am or even that I am sitting there. It's funny. When I reenlisted they held the flag I carried up behind me for the pictures. I think it maybe is getting a little out of hand with the “legend” status. But in a way it's also kinda nice. Anyway, I hope you are having a good day. It is always nice to hear Bubba's voice when I call home. He is such a little grown-up already. I can't wait to be with y'a'll again. We will finally have some time to be a real family. Can you imagine what that would be like? Wow.

Well, tell everyone hi, tell the kids I love them, and give them a hug and kiss from me. I love you so very much. I miss you even more. Take good care of yourself. I love you, sexy!

June 23, 2006

Sorry, I didn't get a chance to write you after we got off the phone last time. It was a short turnaround. I should be able to call you tonight. I just wanted to let you know how important you are to me. I love you so much. You really do mean the world to me. I appreciate you taking a back seat so I can do what I want. You are extremely selfless. Soon I will be able to make it up to you. You have always been there for me, and supportive no matter what. Even when you hate what I am doing. I do realize this, and could never tell you enough how much I thank you for it. Hopefully someday I can do the same for you. I owe you the world.

I hope you are having a safe and quick trip back from Texas. I know mom and dad loved having y'a'll out there. I'm sure it'll be an emotional goodbye for them. Especially if dad has been feeling a little depressed. I could imagine with Bubba being there it has to take him back in time to simpler times. I will try to call later to give you enough time to get home and situated.

When are you going to Oregon? I hope things go as well there with Bubba. I know wherever he goes, people will spoil him rotten. We are so extremely blessed with the families we have. They are always supportive, and loving of everything. . . .

What are you gonna do about Max [our dog] around the kids? I'm sure he would be fine, but you never know. And the fact that Bubba is probably gonna want to play with him. Whatever. I know y'a'll will have a good time.