THREE YEARS ON...

Hi guys, firstly apologies for my lack of posts. With H being home at present with no tours lined up life is just normal and boring. 

Any way, today is my three year anniversary! YES THREE YEARS MARRIED! Last year H warned me that he would never top his gift, a trip in a hot air balloon over West Wales. He was right, haha! I don't tend to compare extravagant gifts, last year H was in Afghanistan and our anniversary happens to fall within R&R, therefore we had more money spare for me to be spoilt! 

This year, H is on summer leave however I had work all day. Whilst sat at my desk all I could think was that I wanted to be at home. Looking at the clock and reliving 3 years ago... 10am - at this time I was having my hair done... Etc etc! Neither of our wedding songs (we had two) were released by the artists so no songs were played on the radio for me to reminisce. Although a song by The Script did come on, and I paused at my desk, let the numbers in my head wander away as I listened to Danny's voice. Humming our song "Im Yours" in my head just after as I made a cup of tea. 

It's hard to believe that I've had a different name for three years. The past three years haven't been hunky-dory to say the least, but he is mine and I am his. I still look at him, stare at him when I think that he's not looking, he always feels my eyes and gets freaked out. He thinks I'm weird. But I could stare at him forever. I know the lines in his face, I know the slope of his nose, the green in his eyes. My handsome hero. 

Technically today was just another day, no acknowledgement from the outside world, apart from those on twitter who responded with "Happy Anniversary" to my soppy anniversary message to H. But I like the fact that this celebration can be one celebrated by H and I alone, we put T to bed (J stayed at his grandparents), H went out to collect an Indian take away and wine, then we watched a movie, cwtched up on the sofa. Just us. 

By saying this people may think that I don't know what's around the corner but... I will love this man until my dying breath. Our relationship isn't all flowers and lace but we love each other. Love is all we need. 

Together Forever!

Forever Together! 

08/08/10 = love! 

IN ORDER TO LEAVE AFGHANISTAN...

Having H home was amazing! I could relax, I didn't have that constant worry and the constant longing for a telephone call. I didn't have to pray every time I drove home in fear that a uniformed figure may be lurking waiting to tell me the news.

I looked at him, at his skin, at his hair. He was real and he was sat right in front of me. I could have burst into tears just from the relief being lifted! But now it was time to tackle the next obstacle, getting used to him being at home, in this country.

This time around we didn't have a newborn to distract us from one another. From the lost lust that had been pushed to one side for 6 months. The thought of having someone in my bed every night was a distraction from sleep. My man, my soldier. I could touch him, he could touch me. Finally this wasn't a dream!

H seemed to come back a different man once again. He still wasn't the H I met before the first tour in 2009 but I knew he would never be that H again. The two and a half years in between H's deployments had gone by rather quickly looking back. A few memories I'd rather forget, but they made us stronger so I must be thankful for everything that has happened between us.

H and I sat down one evening, with a drink and had a lovely long chat. I think it was most needed to reconnect our brains to each others after being apart for way too long. He told me stories from the first tour and explained to me how different it was out there now. One story about him and his comrades being ambushed in this particular area during his first story was one he retold, he said he went back there. He couldn't believe that it was not now being run by the Taliban. I expected areas to haunt him, areas where he lost his good friends, but he said going back had made him realise something.

We had been up and down, and up and down a lot in between his tours. One minute we'd be happy, the other we would be gripping each other in rage. I'm not an innocent party to everything that went on, but H did say something to me that will never go away. He said that truthfully he had never really left Afghanistan after his first operational tour out there. The memories had stuck, the good and the bad. They would never have gone away anyway, but his memories were of fear and devastation. He said that having gone back there and revisiting areas that were not good last time had helped him "leave" the Afghanistan he previously knew behind.

In his words ... "In order to leave Afghanistan I had to go back to Afghanistan. My freshest memory now is a peaceful one"

TIME TO TURN THE PAGE

So it was a new countdown, however I did feel it was only a small jump to the end. 10 weeks, a walk in the park after the first stint! Whilst back at home my routine was to be put back into place. It was time to numb my brain whilst sat at my desk in work!

Once H had returned to Afghanistan, T had started wetting the bed, every night and sometimes more than once a night. It was heartbreaking thinking that the reason for this was because of his daddy not being around. What must children go through when a parent is deployed, and what effects does this have? Even keeping him occupied during the day cannot avoid what happens during sleep! The only thing I could do was wait for it to pass and pray that it did. The words "When is Daddy coming home?" Were said often before bed. I had to promise him that Daddy would return and bring presents. Once T was in bed it was time for me to convince myself that he would be home safe and sound, and not wet my bed with my tears.

T wet the bed for roughly two weeks. I was very pleased when it passed! However it made me realise that once they stopped it was because he got used to H not being here again! There was no hiding from worry and stress.

****

Weeks passed in a blur, however thankfully they passed quickly. I hyped up the fact that Daddy would be home soon to T and J, adding to the fact that both of their birthdays were coming up, they were like little bottles of pop!

H's homecoming date seemed to sneak up on me! It was T's 3rd birthday. H landed that morning. I had sorted out his new car for him to collect on his way home. I have to say I wasn't sure whether H was more excited about his new car or seeing me and the boys! I had work during the day and had arranged with my mother to take T for a meal for his birthday. H was hoping that he'd be able to get home in time to surprise T by walking into the restaurant with his birthday cake. I did not tell the children that their daddy was home that day, I wanted it to be a surprise.

T had spoken to H a few days before his birthday and told him he wanted a caterpillar cake. H had asked if T would keep him a slice of cake, and T promised him the caterpillars face. This made my heart miss a beat. I could not wait to see them reunited. I feel for T a lot when H is away, he has no male influence in his life. I'm a "single" mother whilst in the house, my mum looks after him and the childminder is a woman. J still has his biological father who he sees often so missing H isn't so much of a burden for him. Unfortunately now my dad is poorly and living in a care home T doesn't even have his influence. I wish H's family were able to come down and see him more often, at least T would then have his father to look up to whilst his daddy was away.

T clearly looks up to H, and loves him. At the restaurant we ate our meals and I knew H was unable to reach us in time for T's cake. I watched the flames flicker in T's smiley eyes as we sang Happy Birthday. It broke my heart thinking that H was unable to make it. T blew out the candles. As we cut into the cake T blurted out "Keep the face for my daddy, keep the face for my daddy". Thankfully I knew H was on his way home, otherwise I'd have burst into tears.

Once home I got the boys changed into their PJs, and we all sat there waiting. J had worked out that daddy was coming home but T still had no idea. I tried my best to keep them awake, but one at a time they dosed off! I sat there with my sleeping boys, with the biggest smile on my face. My man was coming home! I carried T up to bed and J slowly followed me. I tucked them up, kissing each of them on the forehead. "When you wake your daddy will be here" I whispered to T as I closed his bedroom door. I closed his door, looked up and my legs turned to jelly. H was almost here!! J gave me a kiss and promptly fell asleep, all worn out from excitement that will finally meet its end in the morning with the glimpse of their dad!

I found it hard to settle knowing that this chapter was finally over and soon I could turn the page! The door knocked and he was here! Home! Safe! Our lips connected and nothing could take away the ecstasy I was feeling!

****

The next morning I woke up, my man at my side. I realised T had sneaked in during the night, he was asleep on my other side. He'd completely missed the fact that there was another body in the bed. T stirred, woke up. He lifted his head from the pillow and made a double take. "DADDY" he screamed jumping over me straight onto H! Wow! Father and son reunited! J must've woken from the activity in our room. He came racing in "Daddy" he said jumping onto our bed. I giggled and just sat there thinking how lucky I really am!

GOOD THINGS MUST COME TO AN END

Wow, apologies for not writing in an extremely long time!

R&R of Herrick 16 flew by in the blink of an eye. I did not want it to end, but it had to. The events of the past two weeks would stay with me forever, that moment in the hot air balloon as I looked up at my man who was staring out at the scenery, I knew I had him back. Those bad times were ancient history, this was the man I fell in love with. After the balloon crash landed (that was fun) H and I grabbed fish & chips and ate them out of the wrapper. Giggling into our bag of chips I remember realising just how much he meant to me and how much I truly loved him. The problem now is what will he do to top this for our future anniversaries, he's going to have to book a space shuttle journey. The sky was the limit this time, now it's time to pass that! Although, I suppose you could say he's already put me up in space, having named a star after me!

The day he was due to fly back went by too fast. His flight was early hours of the morning, and I was dropping him to the airport. Watching him pack up his stuff was like a blow to the stomach, all I focused on was the fact he wasn't going back for long, only 10 weeks and he'd be home, finished, done.

We dressed the boys in their PJs and clambered into the car. H drove, and I sat in the passenger seat looking out the window at the starry sky. I made shapes out of the clouds, thinking about anything but the word goodbye!

Nothing ever goes smoothly for us I have to say, whilst driving through the dark lanes towards to the airport we got a flat tyre. So now T is petrified because its dark and we're surrounded by tall dark trees. H is left to change the tyre solo because I'm cwtching T to keep him calm. J needs a wee, thank goodness I only have boys, so he's in the trees having a wee and I'm shining my phone toward him so he can see. It was lucky that the tyre went before we dropped H off, as otherwise I'd have been stuck because it was the middle of the night and I have no idea how to change a tyre! We finally get to the airport, and then I know the goodbyes are coming. The boys are jumping all over H before they say goodbye to their daddy. I sit there, heartbroken holding back the tears. I do not want H to see my cry, I scream to myself in my head "HOLD IT TOGETHER WOMAN"! After the boys have jumped all over H and had their hugs and kisses I stepped out of the passenger side of the car, whilst H stepped out of the drivers side. It was my turn. He held me in his arms and kissed me, "Goodbye baby". I held it together, I got into the drivers seat and watched H walk away. I said a silent prayer for him to be safe out there.

10 weeks and counting....

MUCH WANTED KISSES

The weeks leading up to my husbands R&R were nerve-wrecking! Too many questions flew through my head, Will he still find me attractive? How do I kiss him; Do I even know how to kiss anyone, it's been that long!!! What do I do in the bedroom? What do I wear? What do I say? What if I don't recognise him? Butterflies fluttered around my stomach, making me excited, making me feel sick with nerves.

The count down turned from double figures to 9, 8, 7 (one week!!!), 6, 5, 4 (Oh my gosh!)... The weekend before H came home I had taken J to London for a football training day, and a tour around Arsenal Emirates Stadium with an absolutely amazing charity called My Daddy Is A Soldier Adventures (www.mydaddyisasoldieradventures.org). I cannot thank this charity enough for making my sons experience such a good one.



J supports Arsenal anyway, but he had the most fantastic day and still talks about it now, a month on! Whilst I was stood outside the Emirates Stadium awaiting our tour my mobile phone rang. "Afghanistan" and my husbands picture flashed up on the screen. I answered excitedly, eager to tell H of J's football training that morning and to say we were about to have our tour of the stadium. He also had something he was eager to share with me... "Baby, I'm coming home tomorrow". So I went from 4 days left to ONE! I cried, tears of joy. My stomach squirmed!

Thankfully I had my legs waxed the day previous, but I had so much to do before he came home. I stayed at my friend's house in Aldershot after the football day, and I felt like bouncing around constantly! The morning after I had to quickly pack up the car, pack up the children, and hit the road... The road that lead to the moment I had been waiting 18 weeks for! As stupid as this sounds but I was seriously worried about the first kiss.

Cruising down the M4 I was hyperactive, stressed, anxious, excited and nervous. I got home, finally! So much to do, so little time. Shower - check. Hair dried - check. The in-laws turned up ready to look after the children for when I go to the train station to pick up my soldier!! The watched the children for me as I applied my face, and pulled out outfit after outfit. I opted for a floral, lightweight, loose mini-dress, tan flip-flops and my denim jacket. I was shaking all the way to the train station. I got there with roughly 25 minutes to go, and I was parked in a 20 minute short stay space. I spoke to the attendent by the station entrance, after explaining my situation the lady was more than happy to let me through and said to not worry about my car.

I stood there waiting. Texting him! 'I'm pulling into the platform now baby' a text I received read. I was still shaking, more than ever. I stood there looking at the crowd walking towards me. I could not stand there and watch him walk towards me, I stood to the side so I could no longer see the crowd. So many people were filing out of the tunnel. Queueing to pop they're tickets into the barriers to let them through. I see it... The flash of camoflauge and tanned skin. I looked up. My handsome husband was showing his ticket to the guard, I slowly walked towards him, weak at the knees. I fell into his arms and collapsed into his embrace. "I'm home baby" he whispered into my ear, and tears rolled down my face. And there it was, the kiss! I pulled myself away from his chest and looked up at him, still being held up in his arms. He lowered his face to meet mine. Everyone in the station stopped, stopped for us, the world stopped. It was just me and him.

We walked back to the car, I felt like a little kid. I just kept looking at him. It was like a dream. I was waiting, any moment now I'd wake up! He softly kissed my lips once more before he pulled out of the car park. All I wanted to do was touch him, kiss him. The reunion with the children was beautiful. I had not told T that his Daddy was coming home, J knew as he'd watched me cry when I heard the news of H coming home early. T went running into his arms screaming "Daddy!!!!" and continuously told H's parents "This is my Daddy", just to make sure they knew who he was, they may have forgotten!

**IMAGE TO FOLLOW**

It was extremely strange having him home, having to share my evenings with someone, not that I was complaining! Our anniversary was coming up, two years wed. I have to admit those two years have had their ups and downs, but this was it, our turning point. Op Herrick 16 has turned our world around, in all the best ways! H had major anniversary plans, but they were a secret. The morning of our anniversary we exchanged gifts. I had bought him an Italian leather golf score card wallet. He loved it. He pulled out two boxed. I was excited. I opened the biggest box, it was a beautiful Pandora bracelet, complete with an angel charm. H told me the charm is to look after me when he is away. I wanted him to place it on my wrist straight away, but I had to open my other small box first. Inside the small ring sized boxed sat a small Love Letter Pandora charm, held in place with a dusk pink ribbon. "That is for the letters we have sent each other whenever I'm away" he said. He said he is going to fill my bracelet over the years with charms that tell our story. He is too romantic sometimes, but it makes me fall in love with him over and over again.

**IMAGE TO FOLLOW**

He then took me to one of my favourite towns, Brecon. We sat in a lovely coffee shop and I had a pot of tea with scones, strawberry jam and clotted cream. What H had planned for the morning had been called off due to weather issues, however it was a beautiful day in Brecon so I was happy. The cancelled surprise had been rescheduled for the following day. After a lovely time in Brecon, he led me back to the car. Where to next?? We drove back towards Cardiff, and H pulled into the Country House where we got married. He said we were just stopping there as it was too early to check into the hotel he was taking me. Next thing I know he is going to the toilet, and coming back with a ROOM KEY! He had booked us a room, back to where he made me his wife. He took me up to our room, the view from there was amazing, and it overlooked the front of the hotel where there was a gorgeous fountain. I was one happy lady. He instructed me to get ready as he was also taking me out for a meal and cocktails. I love this man so much it's unreal.

After an amazing night watching live bands and drinking cocktail after cocktail, we woke up and had a lovely breakfast in the hotel. I looked at him over the table, this man was mine. He was so handsome and gorgeous. I could eat him for breakfast... There were other people in the restaurant so I had to be satisfied with a sausage and some beans! H taunted me with the suprise that awaited me that afternoon. I convinced myself he was taking me on a helicopter ride, what else would be cancelled due to weather???

That afternoon H and I got into the car, he turned towards West Wales on the M4. 'Hmmmmm' I thought. I am terrible at guessing surprises so I thought it best that I just sit back and just wait until we arrived. We followed signs for Llandeilo. That was no hint to me what so ever. H looked at me and said "I think you should have put your hair up, although the helmet will cover that so not to worry. I hope they have boots that fit your tiny feet". Oh no! I still had no idea. He was obviously winding me up with these comments, what a tease! We pulled into a pub. Still no relevant clues. We ordered our drinks and sat on a lonely table in the pubs garden. We sat there and drank, I was slightly confused. After we had finished our drinks he told me to get back into the car. I did wonder for a moment, was that it, is he going to drive back home now? Haha! But he turned the opposite direction when pulling out of the pubs car park.

We drove down some country lanes, this surprise was getting more of a mystery the closer we got. We pulled up ouside a field. Woah! Inside the field there was a jeep, a big basket and a HOT AIR BALLOON! Wow! H was taking me on a Hot Air Balloon ride. I could not believe it. I jumped out of the car, and jumped on H giving him kisses. We jumped into the basket, H after me as he had to use his muscles to help the guy set up the balloon... And off we set. It was the most amazing view I have ever seen, and to share it with the love of my life made is 100% better. I kept looking over at the handsome man who held my hand. This was a brilliant surprise, and a surprise it was indeed. H and I kissed mid air, it could not have been better. Stuck in a basket, with my husband, watching the sunset as we floated over the beautiful scenery that was West Wales. H held me close and kissed me.

What a perfect surprise. I could not have wished for anything else. I love that man, and he will continue to amaze me forever.

WHEN DEPLOYMENT TURNS GOOD

The title of this post is probably confusing... But let me just explain myself -

When I think back to before H left for Afghanistan this pops into my head "who was pushing who?". Needless to say, H and I weren't all roses before he left. We had been through the mill, and still not yet fully recovered. The thought of that length of time apart created so much anxiety in me that I could not relax to enjoy my time with him.

Now my heart aches for him, and I curse myself for not making our time special (really special) before he left. Then I sit there and remember that we "weren't quite there" then. And creating false moments would not be any good either. Obviously we had good times, and I loved him with all my heart, but special moments, etc seemed expected due to what was coming, therefore taking the special out of them. Everything we did was tainted with expectation.

Since H left I have had yet another lonely birthday. I had a cake in work on my actual birthday, which was lovely, but something was missing. I went out for tea with my mum, her boyfriend, and the boys, but something was missing. The Saturday before my birthday I went out for a meal with a friend then into Cardiff for a few drinks, but something was missing. The feeling of something missing would bubble up in my stomach, and make me feel sick. I would think to myself 'stop being so pathetic, its just another day. Stop it" but it would linger there waiting for a release that wasn't going to come.

I kept my phone near me in work, knowing that he would call. I had already had a wake up call, but my mornings are so rushed, its never the best time to call. His little picture flashed up on my phone's screen! "Hello baby" I answered. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Kirsty, happy birthday to you". The tears welled up in my eyes, gosh how I wish he was here, in front of me, holding my face and kissing my lips. The phonecall wasn't too long as I was in work, but regardless of how long it was, it made my day. His sexy voice made me smile. "Tell Nicola thank you for getting you a cake as I couldn't".

After a long day at work, I came home to an attempted delivery of a parcel and attempted delivery from InterFlora. Hmmmmmm I thought. InterFlora had delivered my bunch of flowers to next door, and last tours memories swept through me. I don't recall if it was for my birthday or just because, but H sent me flowers and once again I had missed the delivery and they had been delivered next door. My next door neighbour is lovely, little old lady. She always has cakes for the children, they love seeing her! So this birthday - I knock on her door with disappointment as she is not there. I do not have time to wait as my mum was expecting me at the restaurant.

The whole time at the restaurant all I kept thinking was 'Come on, wanna get home, wanna see my flowers'. H is amazing at buying flowers, and I knew they were going to be gorgeous, and I simply could not wait to see them! We finish up at the restaurant, and I drive home to get to my flowers. Mrs Jones was home. She smiled when she saw me, and said "Is it your birthday or something" I nodded and she led me into her conservatory. There they were, a massive bunch of flowers, wrapped in fuschia wrapping, and placed in a gift bag. The flowers were beautiful, big pink roses and lots and lots of lilies, waiting to open up to show me their beautiful bright pink lining.

I thanked Mrs Jones, and carried my bunch of flowers back to my house. It was late so I gazed at them in the kitchen and prepared the vase as the children put their pyjama's on. I wanted to get the boys to bed before I arranged them in the vase and decided where they would live. It was late so the boys went to bed with no fuss, as they were exhausted. Once they were tucked in, I went back to the kitchen. I looked at my beautiful flowers and arranged them in the vase, deciding they should live on the windowsill in the living room. I was so proud of them. Gosh I loved that man!!

That night I lay in bed and weeped. I ached more than ever for him. I spoke to the sky, knowing that we were under the same one. We will be together soon, and then I can sleep with my curtains closed, knowing he is safe by my side, kissing my lips.

I realise that my love for my husband is growing, with the waiting I love him more every day. The anxiety that looms around military relationships is shrinking, and my love is growing. My aching for him confirms my love, my strength to wait for him confirms my love, and my ability to dream of when we are back together confirms my love.

As silly as this may sound, Op Herrick 16 has revived my love, revived my marriage, and made me realise just how much I truly love my husband. Sometimes the true love is over looked by routine, and expectations. When you are thrown out of routine, and your life is turned upside down, paralyzed, you realise who you want and what you want. I am grateful for this tour, grateful for it confirming our love for each other, and reminding us of this love, this true love. The love that is everlasting!

Absence makes the heart grow fonder!

2 LONELY MONTHS

Firstly let me apologise for my lapse in posts. So much has been going on, and sometimes finding the words can be difficult. But this is my attempt...

I am half way through the first stint of this tour. 9 weeks done, yet 9 weeks until R&R. This is tour is definitely different to Op Herrick 10, but the loneliness is the same. This time I have two little boys running around my legs, rather than one and a bulging bump.

My children keep me busy, however I am finding it hard coping without any sort of restbite. As I write this I can feel myself tensing up and my eyes getting watery. What I am going through is loneliness, yet what I am going through is bound to wear off in some form onto my children. If I cannot cope, how can they? Up until this tour I was convinced I wanted another child, a girl to fill my painted nails/pig-tailed hole in my heart. It has become clear that I am not Wonder Woman, and two little boys is enough for me.

The first few weeks of deployment were difficult, T cried every night when I put him to be (how did he know it was different? Daddy doesn't live here anyway). He would no longer allow me to close his bedroom door at bedtime, like a security thing I guess... He wanted to know that I was still here and wouldn't disappear too. I would sit downstairs and cry as I listened to his plea "I want daddy, I want daddy" - his broken speech through falling tears. In time will he forget? Will he think Daddy was gone forever so there was no point in crying as he never came?

Weeks passed, these nights continued, I started dreading bedtime as I knew the heartache it would cause myself as well as him. J would try to comfort us both, as he could not sleep whilst T yelled. One night I sat at the bottom of the stairs with my head in my hands, breathing with difficulty. I heard J creep in to see T. "Here T, have my Daddy, you can cuddle him and it will be like he's here". J has a lot of army toys, including a HM Armed Forces "action man" type figure. That gesture, as small to some as it may seem, made me weep. When I'm in a "can't cope" mood I know my boys will have each other.

Soon the night time cries became shorter, and now they are more of a short moan. Whilst I was in it I felt it would never end. T has not forgotten H, they speak on the phone, he tells people "Daddy is in work, to get me toys". I guess children learn to cope too. J is very mature for his age, and only now and again will he miss H, I suppose it is different for J as he still has his true father on the scene, therefore has a male influence in his life. When H is away, T only has J in his life.

I have proven myself stronger than previously thought. Please do not get me wrong, I still cry at least two times a week. I still lay in bed at night with the emptiness in the pit of my stomach. And I still drive to work wishing he had kissed me goodbye at the doorstep (something that would not even be true if he was here, something I never wish for whilst he is in this country). I still hear songs that start me off and the lump in my throat rises.

I am lucky enough to have a supporting mum, and a supporting work place. My mum at the moment is my rock, more than she has been before. I look to her for refuge. I look to her for help. During my entire life I have been a 'Daddy's Girl', unfortuately I am not the same Daddy's Girl as I previously has been. I feel I have lost both the main men in my life. My husband, my bestfriend, my love is miles and miles and miles away fighting, living in a war. My dad, my hero, my cornerstone is in the next town, fragile, half the man that he was, sat in his room on a chair in a care home at the age of 47. Last tour my dad was everything, he helped me paint the nursery, decorate the kitchen, and stayed nights on the sofa when I was feeling low. He would turn up early in the morning to cook me breakfast to make sure I ate. He would walk J to school for me. He would clean my car. Now he sits there like an old man, but his eyes are still young. And I need him, but he can no longer give me what I need. I can no longer be the dad he's always been. This change is probably harder for him than it is for me. I go to visit him (admittedly this is rare) and I put on my brave face, the face I use in times of fear and upset, the face that drains every ounce of me just so I do not upset others.

H is amazing when he rings, and he writes me beautiful letters. He has booked surprises for me for R&R as it coincides with our two year anniversary. Just thinking of R&R is what gets me through the lonley moments (whether they be on the sofa, laying in bed or sat at my desk in work). I find myself sitting (laying) there with a big fat smile on my face, if anyone were watching they'd probably assume I was mentally unstable. My eyes gaze upwards, or are closed in a day dream. Today I came home from work to a perfectly folded blue rectangle shaped letter (how does he get the folds spot on?? I always seem to mess one up when sealing). I grabbed the letter and ran inside. It was addressed to 'Kirsty MILF' - I assumed that was me. As I opened the letter, carefully so not to ruin is expertly sealed edges, a playing card fell out. I thought I knew what this would be, during his last tour is robbed the card '4 of Hearts' as the number 4 was my favourite number. I am not sure if I have mentioned this before but the numbers 4 (mine), 10 (his) and 14 (ours) always play a relevant part of our life. I picked up my new playing card, Op Herrick 16 playing card. "Oh" I thought as I sat on the toilet, lid down (the bathroom where I grab 1 minute maximum of peace). I held in my hand the 4 of Spades. That I was not expecting. I open the letter fully and start reading.

This is what it read "I was walking through camp the other day and in the middle of an open area that I have to walk through I noticed a playing card, face down in the dust. I picked it up and it was the four of spades. I've posted it to you for you to keep as a symbol of how lucky we are. 4, 10 & 14 are not lucky numbers but just numbers that remind us of how lucky we are. Lucky to have met and lucky to have stayed together (you're the lucky one really I could have gone after you done two runners from me)."

Moments like these are what keep you going. Something as silly as this to others make your heart skip a beat, you beam with happiness. I shall place this 4 of Spades with my 4 of Hearts. Together they make 8 - 8th August 2010, my wedding day, my happy thought. I love my soldier. I shall wait forever & ever & ever & ever & ever....

**************

Three things will last forever -

faith, hope, and love - and the

greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:13 (New Living Translation)

ITS SEE YOU LATER...

POTL - Pre Operational Tour Leave

H had two weeks off prior to his deployment. I was excited about being able to spend the time with him before his travels, but also slightly anxious about getting used to him being there before he gets swept away! Two weeks doesn't sound long enough to get used to someone, but going from weekend only visits to a full two weeks was like a luxury pampered holiday when you don't want to go home (back to reality).

As I knew H would want to see his friends from home and family members I only booked one week off work, the first week which was a mistake!! We spent the first week visiting and had one lazy day at home with the children watching DVDs and eating sweets! We didn't concentrate enough on us! Only one day did we spend the day together, and that was a good day, a VERY good day. We woke up a Saturday morning, and dropped the children to my mothers. We went back home to get ready, we both slipped into our red tops... It was Grand Slam day. Once we were all ready we held hands and headed for the train station! There were about 8 people at the station, mainly dressed in red! As the train pulled up, you could see that it was full with colours of red and blue! We stepped (I jumped, I'm only short!) onto the train, our carriage was over powered with blue shirts and berets. "I think we're on the wrong carriage!" I said. H looked at me and smirked. He gripped my hand tightly and we walked through the blue sea into the "red" carriage! Thankfully rugby was not represented by such hooligans as football, and it definitely was not a problem that we'd been mixed in with the blues to begin with! Once we were in Cardiff you could tell that the Capitol was rammed with supporters! Rivers of red and blue streamed the high street! This was my first rugby experience in Cardiff and I looked at H and my heart skipped with excitement! We found a pub and a spot to stand, we were clearly too late to get a seat!! The rugby did not start for 2-3 hours, yet every where was pumping! It was amazing! I loved looking around at all the happy people, and looking at my H. This (I knew) was going to be an amazing memory, whether we won the Grand Slam or not!

When the rugby started a woman called me up to sit on a ledge with her in the pub. H was fine with that as my feet were killing me, blinking heels! So I hopped up onto the ledge and watched intensely, screaming at the appropriate times and turning around for H to give me the odd wink, which made my heart skip a beat more times than Halfpenny scoring a try! The game was coming to an end and we had done it! We had won the Grand Slam against France! Everyone was screaming, everyone was hugging! I turned around, I could not get to him, I could not reach H! I was so overwhelmed by the whole experience, and that I knew this was a memory archived for me to refer to when H was deployed, my eyes filled with tears of joy and sorrow all at the same time! I turned to look at H, my phone buzzed, I looked down "I love you xxxx". I whipped my head around, he gave me his heart melting smile, winked and blew me a kiss, mouthing the words I love you! My smile beamed from ear to ear. If only I could get to him. The woman I was sat with bounced off the ledge, and I quickly followed, grabbed hold of H and gave him a huge kiss! The pub announced that they had run out of beer, so it was time for us to leave. We headed back to the train station and decided that we would go to the village pub before heading home!

I knew that once he had deployed to Afghanistan that all I would have to do is think of that moment when I turned to see him after winning the Grand Slam, and I would smile!

After a week with H, and knowing that he only had one week left before he deployed, I cried at the thought of having to go to work! I was petrified that if anything was to happen to him in Afghanistan that I would regret being in work that week for the rest of my life. I spoke to my boss, she understood and let me take the second week off too! I'm very blessed and lucky to have such a lovely boss!

Once again we did not stop the second week! So many people to see, so many things to do! We had decided that we were going to take the children to Lego Land, and had decided on the Thursday. This was not a problem, and I told J's school that we would be taking him out of school for the day like we had the week before. They understood. Unfortunately someone did not. J's dad sent me messages that only a child would think of saying, they were that ridiculous. I tried explaining to him that H is going away for six months and J would not see his step dad during this time, and missing one day of school to spend the day with H was not out of order. As horrible as it sounds I wanted to say "For all we know this could be the last time J sees H if the worst was to happen!". What went through J's fathers head no one knows but his response was untterly ridiculous - "So if it all kicks off in the Falklands and we all get called up like in the World War, I get to take J out of school whenever I want is it?". My response to this was "Shut up" I could not believe what I had just read!

Needless to say, we took J out of school to spend the last day of leave with H and as a family, as I was to drop H to camp the following day! And we had an absolutely fantastic day! J and H became best friends, running off to go on the biggest roller coaster together! And H went on the kids roller coaster with T also so not to leave him out. It was a much needed family day before H left! And to see the little Lego guards Trooping The Colour in Lego London brought a tear to my eye!

We were driving home up the m4, and I realised POTL had come to an end and it was almost time to say Goodbye! On the Friday we drove back down the m4, and I looked out the window most of the time with silent tears falling down my cheeks, I think I hid this well from H, and I don't think he noticed. Well I hope he didn't. I felt silly, weak! I stayed with H that night and I would drive home on the Saturday. It was easy to push away the following days promise (to take my H away) whilst we sat in a friends Hot Tub, eating BBQ. Another lovely memory.

I woke up Saturday morning thinking that what was happening couldn't be happening! I wasn't ready! I tried to be happy to not ruin our last few hours, but I struggled! What was I doing? Just smile and snap out of it I kept telling myself! Then it was too late. I sat on his bed as all the boys, and H filled the car with H's room! The car was full, I had to leave! The bed sucked me in. H walked into the room and looked at me. The bed released me and I jumped up at speed and grabbed him so tight. I tried holding it together but I lost it. I sobbed into his chest. He held me just as tight. How could I let this moment go? I could feel his breath on my neck, it gave me goosebumps! My body shakes as I tried to pull away.

I held his hand tightly as he walked me to the car. I sucked it up, and held my head high, all teared out I thought! I will not cry again I tried to promise myself. He sat in the car as I drove to the barracks gate to leave. There they were, the gates, the gates that lead me to a lonely six months! He jumped out of the car quickly, and ran around to my side! I opened my door but did not get out! He spoke loving words to me and words of encouragement as he bent down and held me. I wish I could remember those words but it's all a blur. I was crying again! His glazed over green eyes looked into my teary blue ones! He looked close to tears. I told him to stay safe and not forget me! He closed my door, my window was open. He leaned in and kissed my lips. It was time for me to drive away.

I did not look in my mirror, I did not want to know if he stood there and watched me or if he turned and walked away straight away. The soldier on stag gave me a sympathetic smile and nod. I smiled back. I turned out of the barracks and my eyes filled. I could not see through the tears. I had to pull over and pull myself together. I drove the wrong way twice! And both times I ended up driving passed the barracks again! My brain wanted me to run back in for just one more kiss, but I could not bear saying goodbye again! I found my way and turned the radio up loud! I sang (sometimes through tears) all the way home!

This was going to be a long few months. Next is my RnR tease! Words cannot describe the loneliness as I eat my tea without a text coming through, or laying in bed without his goodnight call. My first contact should ease my anxiety a bit. Until then I shall continue crying into my food, and laying in bed cwtching his pillow!

Stay safe soldier... All my love!

WHERE TO TURN

Well, deployment looms as ever, and things have gone down the slippery slope and completely off course.

Alcohol - What does it mean in everyones lives? A bit of fun? A vice? Something you cannot live without? Unfortunately I have been exposed to alcoholism most of my life. My dad is the way he is due to alcohol. He has damaged his body so much. Yet I still drink! Cirrhosis of the liver is hard to come to terms with when you are told your dad has it and he will not get a transplant. Why ruin your body that way? I also, this week, learned that my dads brain is actually 30 years older than it should be due to alcohol damage. I want to shake him, I wish I had known this many many moons ago, so I could warn him! Stop him from drinking!

My husband likes a drink. And unfortunately he drinks more than I care to admit of minding. It's his life, I think. But once it starts effecting my life, I have to take charge. Unfortunately walking out on the one you love seemed my only option.


It was very late on a Friday night. H had been drinking with his very close friend, a friend of which I approved! H seemed happy and that was nice to see. The boys sat with me and spoke how boys do, having a laugh. When his friend left, I was not expecting the turn of events.

After texting a thank you message to a friends boyfriend, as he had bought me an American Army hoody (as requested), a text which I though was innocent. H did not see it this way.

Unfortunately, H has been pushing himself away now for some time, and I worry that this may be some sort of self shield before he deploys to war once more in a months time. Due to the distancing being created between us, and an innocent incident by myself, it has also planted non-trusting thoughts into his head. These thoughts seem to surface after a good few beers!

Things got a bit out of hand, and I felt no choice but to grab my children and leave the house. This was not a scare tactic, my decision was final (at that moment) to leave for good!

This non-H like manner only comes out after a drink. Alcohol! H's vice! I longed for him to see that, in my eyes it was causing a wedge! And that wedge was due to crack very soon.

I'm sure your all wondering of my innocent incident that has planted doubt in H's head. A couple of months ago, H and I were out watching the Welsh Guards rugby, and as expected we bumped into some of H's friends from the Welsh Guards. I got on extremely well with one friend in particular. It wa not a sexual attraction, we had good banter. H was there so there was nothing going on. After talking to this boy on Facebook for a while, it sparked jealously within H. My 'not telling him' probably did not help, but the messages were not at all cheat-worthy. H has now read all the messages between his friend and myself, but unfortunately the induced jealousy is hard for him to shake off.

That weekend I did nothing but cry. I was up and down like a yo-yo. I'm leaving him, I'm staying with him. Where's my flower so I can pull each petal off, maybe that could help me make a decision and help my eyes see clearly!

I could not live without him, I could not breath without him, and the thought of him going to Afghanistan without my support was overwhelmingly hurtful!

I went to my counselling session on that Sunday. What do I do, I thought. I went in, independent woman styley! I can do this! I was determined that was the end, and that niggling at the back of my head will disappear over time. It had to disappear! I stepped into my home, there he was, ready to leave for work. I looked at his face, it stabbed my heart numerous times. This independent woman malarky was not kicking in. His beautiful green eyes read me like a book, he opened his arms and lifted his mouth. I fell into him. This is where I belong. My wonderful thought, sat in his arms. I cried! We cannot let go of what we have, it's still there hidden under doubt, fear and worry, but it was there.

We made promises. Let's hope we both stick by them! Mr & Mrs H... We're too strong together, we are a team!

H will cut down the drinking, he promised he will for me. I really really hope that my belief in him is reality. That moment I fell into his arms that night, it was like the beginning of a new chapter. I could breath more clearly, filling my lungs to the brim. This is how true love feels, it feels warm & cosy, with a slight glimpse of new horizons!

This right here, this is my wonderful thought. When I start feeling low, when I start having doubts, when he is not close to me, I can feel the butterflies. The butterflies of excitement, the butterflies of his comforting arms.

His arms will be around me soon! Think Of A Wonderful Thought....

I LONGED TO BE LOVED

My mother and I decided after about two hours of sitting there remembering old times and singing Wham! to my dad, it was time to go pick up H from the train station and get some seriously needed shut eye. I was completely drained and exhausted.

I was nervous as to how H was going to be with me. He'd had time to think on the train, had his mind been his own worst enemy or had he seen sense? He got in the car, I sat in the back. I could smell the alcohol on him! He tried to be as cheery as possible to my mum, but I could tell that the fact that he was home was purely honouring his husband duties.

I fell asleep in the back of my mums car, and woke when she stopped outside my house. H pulled the front seat forward so I could get out of my mums ridiculously small Yellow Mini. "I'll call you in the morning, or before if I hear anything from the hospital. And thank you mum".

I gave H a hug in the street, I got nothing back and as I reached up to kiss him he shook his head and gave me his cheek. I was heartbroken. If he loved me, and he knew how much pain I was in why would he not comfort me? What exactly was the point in him coming home at all? I tried shrugging it off so I could get some sleep, but this did not work. I had to bring it up, I had to have it out with him. I really should've thought that through! The conversation that followed was not a nice one, and it left me more scarred than I already was.

My body ached and urged for the gentle touch of my loving husband. He was no where to be seen, what sat in front of me was a stranger. I had never met this person before. He put cold arms around me as I sobbed. Cold, meaningless arms. They may as well have been razors for the pain and the hurt they caused. I wanted to push them away, but I wanted him in any form that he wished to give me.

We slept like two people in a bed, not a couple. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I fell asleep. Maybe he will see sense, maybe he still loves me. This chapter in my life was going to take a long time to heal, the cuts were deep.

H went back to work after the weekend. My dad woke up. I had lost two men in the space of a week. H was a stranger and this frail, scared man in the hospital bed was also a stranger. He could not speak. He was ripping his tubes out. He was acting like a child. I could not comprehend this. This man was my dad, my hero. How could this have happened? How did he become this? I still feared that they would have to sedate him, and that he may still pass away. I always fear the worst. Having experienced so much lose in my life, sometimes its hard to think that everyone around me will not leave, but will stick by me.

H and I did not speak much at all whilst he was in work, and I dreaded him coming home. How could he not see the love I had for him? I love him so much it hurts, and I would do anything for him to know it.

My dad was taking small steps in the right direction day by day, and soon he was on a general ward. He still found it hard to communicate, and would sit next to his bed and look at the birds out the window. He is only 47, he looked about 67.

I took J into see my dad, as I had seen such an improvement in him I thought it as time. They had both been asking to see each other, and my dads speech was a lot better. "What floor is he on mummy?" J asked. "He's on ward C1 babe, so that means he's on the first floor" I replied. J looked puzzled. We walked through the corridors of the hospital. He turned to me and said "I thought he would be on the top floor, being that he's the illest". This made me smile. Like as if there is a hierachy in hospital and the people most likely to die are located at the top. At least I had some reassurance that J now thought that his Bampi must not be as ill as he once thought. The innocence of a child can brighten even the darkest places.

I can't quite remember when H realised, or changed his outlook on our relationship, but he did. He was willing to put his accusations (as thats all they were) behind himself, and give us another shot. I thanked the Lord. I could not cope if I lost him.

With Christmas around the corner, I had a lot to sort out. My dad. My husband. The children. And my mum, who found herself to be a single woman this year. I had to make it extra special for all. Who knows where we'll all be next Christmas, this year has proved that!

ROCK BOTTOM CAN CRACK

Even though, at times, I can still feel the coldness of rock bottom as I'm only dangling a few feet from it, I didn't actually realise things could actually get worse! And as I drop, my back cracks the cold stone of rock bottom and I plummet lower!

Arguments with H are never easy. My life, so it seemed at the time, was the worst it could have been! Accusations of being a cheat. They cut, they hurt, I bled! Maybe I say things at time without actually thinking of how the person on the receiving end thinks of it. A cheat I am not! And considering I was cheated on, badly, by my ex I just simply could not do that to someone I loved.

Amongst the accusational texts I had a missed call from a number unrecognised on my phone. "Nice try" I thought, I genuinely thought H had tried calling me off someone elses number to catch me out.

*BLEEP*
Aha, a voicemail. I called my mailbox, a mans voice spoke. "Kirsty, this is Uncle Tony". My stomach knotted, I knew what was coming but prayed it was something else. "Your dads had an accident, he's in intensive care. He went into a diabetic coma and was rushed in this afternoon after he was found" he said. I was choked, my eyes streamed and I could not breath. He's going to die!

I inhaled fast. I could not hide my fear. I thanked my uncle for calling, he was apologetic for baring bad news. I called my mum in a panic to come have the children for me. The children watched tv unaware of the trance I was in as I sat at the top of my stairs, rocking myself and crying hysterically. J came out as he could hear me crying "Get downstairs" I screamed at him. He scampered off, I felt awful but could not move or call to him.

If I call H now will he think I'm making this up for the sob story card?! I called him hysterically, I tried breathing to explain what had happened. I found it hard to say the words and broke down. H was granted a rail pass and said he'd get on the first train back to Wales. Did he care, or was he purely forfilling his husband role but with no feelings? The latter was my thought.

My mum turned up, she would not let me drive in the state that I was in. I text my friend to come look after the children so my mum could take me in.

Was my dad going to die?! Was my husband going to leave me?! I grasped to the side of the pit I was in "Please Lord, do not let me fall further" I thought.

My friend arrived, with trembling arms I hugged her. She reassured me best she could, and my mum guided me to her car. The fear inside me grew, but I was with my mum, she had seen me cry but now I had to be a big girl.

I saw the hospital, my stomach flipped and I thought I was going to faint. He was in there right now in a coma, on a ventilator! My mum squeezed my knee. I smiled at her with watery eyes.

She held my hand as I walked towards the hospital. We followed signs to ICU (Intensive Care Unit). We rang the bell, I have never been so scared in my life. We were not allowed in to see him as they were running tests. The nurse spoke to me but I heard nothing. I felt my mums arms around me, I felt numb, I responded as best I could.

We walked to the café, slowly. "Tea please mum" I said. She paid, I found a seat. We sat by the window, we were about 3 storeys high and could see the helicopter landing spot and A&E. I sipped my tea, the cleaner sang as she buffed the floor "...any dream will do...". Joseph and his technicoloured dream coat. I moaned to my mum about the cleaners horrendous voice, try to lighten the mood. My mum laughed but still looked at me with concern. I was hurting, but I knew she was too. Afterall she once loved this man. "He's going to be ok right?" I asked. "I don't know dear" my mother responded. She forced a smile at me, I forced one back.

After an hour, or maybe two, of waiting we were allowed in. Once again the nurse spoke as she led me to his bedside, I heard nothing. We haulted at the foot of his bed, the nurse explained what was happening to him, or what had happened and what they were doing with him. I heard nothing. I looked at my dads lifeless body on the bed. He had a towel wrapped around his head to keep him warm. He had pipes down his throat and tubes going in everywhere. The machinery around him was full of lights, sometimes it bleeped. Silent tears rolled down my face. I reached under the sheet to grasp his hand. His skin was as cold as ice. I looked at him, I looked at the machines. I looked at the towel wrapped around his head, I giggled. "If *H* was here he may mistake you as Taliban and shoot you dead" I whispered. H was on his way, I longed for his touch and reassurance.

My mother and I sat there just looking at him for a long time...

"Please be ok" I text my dads mobile phone.

A DARK CLOUD

The sun doesn't always shine in my life.

I'm not even quite sure how to write this post, or what to put in it to be honest. If I ramble I apologise!

When I'm happy I feel like I'm on top of the world and nothing can stop me! I feel more like me, and I can make jokes and laugh. A real laugh! Why can't I always feel that way!

H and I had a fantastic weekend. After three weeks apart it was so good to see him! I had craved his touch, his voice. I was so happy to sit on my sofa and snuggle up to my man. I was happy!

This may sound silly, but I felt so chuffed when H asked me to go to golf with him. He's always said he plays golf to get away from things to clear his mind. The things he used to have to get away from was me. The thought that he actually wanted to spend that time with me made me so happy. He said he'd hire a buggy and we'd drive around the course, and have some good chats. Secretly I knew he wanted to show off his golf skills, haha! But he wanted to spend time with me, serious time!

We drove up the windy road to the Celtic Manor. I'd dropped him off here before, but I'd never been excited for that. I was excited this time! I was dressed up in some navy trousers, pink Lyle & Scott jumper and a pink camp. I looked like a golfer, so at least I fitted in! Armed with a picnic I jumped into the buggy. Eeeek! This was going to be awesome! H played whilst I watched, beaming with smiles! We shared giggles, kisses and I helped him find his balls. His golf balls that is!! He only lost it once, on the first hole!

It got dark too fast, so we only reached the 16th hole. But those 4 hours were brilliant. Some H and I time that was so needed after three weeks of struggling without him.

He had a long weekend home, and didn't have to leave until the Tuesday. Now it's Wednesday. It's horrible sat here without him. It may have only been five nights with him home, but I enjoyed cooking his dinner. I enjoyed watching our programmes cwtched up on the sofa (cwtched is welsh, shall I say cuddled up on the sofa).

Now that I'm alone the dark cloud rolls in. I sit here with eyes filling up, and a trembling lip. Why is it that when I'm alone all I can think about is Afghanistan, and about how it will be when he's deployed in four months time.

When the dark cloud hangs over my head it's hard to smile, it's hard to be happy, to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Curling up in a ball sounds good, but I know I have to press on. Do the dishes, fix the kids lunches for tomorrow, and get myself to bed at a reasonable hour!

H sends me soppy text messages, and they do make me smile. After three and a half years of being together he still brightens my mood with just a text. He's my leaning post. The dark cloud has a sun shining behind it, that sun never goes, it only hides. It's trying to shine through. Maybe tomorrow it will blind me!

THE ONLY WAY IS UP

I suppose I have to tell H about my depression, as he will be wondering why I'm popping pills every day! I did not want him to think or feel that because of this he has to get back with me. I do not need sympathy and I want him to want to be with me, not to feel that he has to because he feels bad!

I rang him in tears, he sounded genuinely concerned. It was nice to hear that reaction in his voice, in an odd way. "I've been diagnosed with depression". Saying that out loud to a loved one did not sound right. I felt like a nutter! I explained everything to H. I also explained how I felt about the situation. "All I want is to be happy again, I really love you. I need you to want me, to love me. Please don't give me false hope just for feeling sorry for me".

"I've had a lot of time to think. I want to help you, I want to stick by you. I do love you. I've realised something, I've realised that I've fallen into a pit too. I just don't seem to care about much at all since Afghanistan. I mean, sometimes I care, but sometimes I feel nothing. I've spoken to one of the boys, who lost his marriage be use of this. This won't happen to us. We still have stepping stones, but at least we've both hit realisation." He really did care, I thought. Hearing those words was like music to my ears.

I started my medication. H wanted to come home to me there and then, unfortunately it was a Wednesday. When the day came that he came home, he kissed me. That's all I'd wanted, to feel that kiss! The only way was up!

As H and I walked across the stepping stones, holding hands and guiding each other, I waited patiently for the medication to kick in. Two weeks my doctor had said, it had been two weeks! The crying had stopped, but I could still feel the cold stone of the bare floor of rock bottom. H holding my hand warmed my body, but the anxiety within me sometimes took over my mind!

My follow up appointment was booked to see the doctor. I told him the crying had stopped, but I was very anxious about silly things, like going to church, going shopping. I felt sick when it came to things I had to do as routine. The doctor has upped my medication, doubled the dose!

Seven weeks on the medication.
I still have down days and moments of weakness. I've started crying at my desk in work. Sometimes I know what's triggered me off, sometimes I just cry. H has turned back into my rock. He knows I don't want sympathy, but he knows when to hold his comments and hug me.

H's next tour of Afghanistan is nibbling at my mind constantly. He's being sent out a month earlier now, and I feel stupid moaning, I feel stupid crying, but I can't help it. We make plans for when he returns, but the thought "what if" plays on my mind. I try to shake it off but it takes hold of me and I crumble.

H loves me, and I love him. We are back on the right path, and thankfully, together we are pulling each other through.

Think of a wonderful thought!

ROCK BOTTOM

Following my previous blog post, I am sure you're all fully aware that I struggled with adjusting to H being home on his last leave at home.

The Wednesday after this leave Family Day at camp was scheduled. I'd planned to stay with the only wife from the battalion that I was close to. I was excited to see her, but my mind was still confused as to how I felt about going to Family Day and putting on my smiles for everyone.

I drove the familiar route to the battalions previous barracks, as my friend (N) had not moved to the new location. I started my drive late, as I'd been working all day on the Tuesday. The route was tedious. I had driven it so many times I'm sure I could do it with my eyes closed! I set my iPhone to shuffle and linked it up to my car. I had been driving for a couple of hours when I reached Reading. My junction was coming up. The song changed, on came Snow Patrol - You Could Be Happy. My stomach did somersaults, and it was most definitely full of butterflies! The emotion and raw feeling of my relationship hit me. I held back the tears as I had the children in the back. Whenever I used to listen to this song I used to feel a bit smug, thinking that my relationship was perfect and nothing could take that away! How did I find myself in this current, so real, rut?! I felt like I want to drive to my husband and shake him. I had not spoken to him properly since he left to go back to work. I craved for some loving words, a loving text. All I wanted was a reminder that he did love me, and that I did love him. I knew the love was in me, but it felt suppressed. My mouth was dry and my body ached. That song, that album flooded my mind with the past. The perfect past. I could not pin point when we had started pushing each other away.

I got to N's house. All the emotion from hearing that song pushed to the back of my head. I was just being a drama queen, just being silly.

I was extremely anxious about seeing H, the children on the other hand were very very excited! Having never been to the new barracks it was stressful enough getting there. Time to put on my smiles! H gave me a kiss upon arrival, what had I been anxious about? The day went fabulously and we had a great laugh.

The day somehow turned sour. As N and I were getting ready to leave, H disappeared. I went to his room to see where he was. He sat on his bed watching Dragons Den, obviously annoyed at something, but what? 'Great, here we go' I thought!

It seemed that I had apparently had attitude and I was always moody. H continued to say that I am never happy anymore, and refused (in his drunken state) to walk me and the children to the car. My blood boiled. How dare he ruin my perfect day? I could not see in any way that I had been in a bad mood or had attitude.

I stayed with N that night again. After putting the boys to bed we stayed up and chatted. I cried. My mind and sanity was fragile and I had no idea what was going on with my relationship. I worked myself up into such a state that I made myself ill, drained and deflated. My energy levels pointed at zero.

Still in a state of confusion I drove back to Wales. Having not spoken to H my situation had not been made any clearer in my mind. Things went from bad to worse. After a night out with a friend, H came home in a horrid frame of mind. I had sat up all night crying, not knowing what was going on or what was to come.

I wanted to talk, I needed to talk. It seemed that H was not quite ready to talk, or even that he wanted to. I felt sick with worry, and anxiety. My mind was racing at 100mph. Before I knew it I found his wedding ring in my hand, and I heard the words "We've tried, and we've been through this so many times. It's not working. You're not the girl I fell in love with, you're miserable all the time".

I could not breathe! What? How? Why? My head spun.

For the rest of the weekend I stayed out of his way. What could I say? I was convinced he was a nutter, delusional! Of course I was happy. It was him! The time came for him to go back to work. I was too upset, too hurt to attempt to rectify anything. I was numb. We both agreed that we needed space. He needed time to reflect and see that he is the one with the problem. How dare he think this was me! We decided on no contact unless necessary. Reflection does not need to be clouded over with negative thoughts or desperate words. He hugged me before he left. I did not want to let go, in fear that this may be the end and this may be my final hug. I did love him, extremely. I just had no idea what was going on.

He left. I cried. Then I cried some more.

I was convinced that H would reflect and see his errors and would come back. I had to hold onto something, and that was my something. I could feel the love inside me heating up. It was still there, I knew it was, but had H's gone out?

Days passed and I continued to cry. I cannot describe this feeling other than numb. If I wasn't crying, I was empty. He made me whole, could he not see this? I went into work, I cried. I had not eaten properly for days, almost a week. I could not sleep. I was empty and numb, surely I had no tears left to cry? They continued to come.

People started to worry. I started to worry. What was going to happen? It had been almost a week now. I still could not eat, restless nights became the norm. I had had enough, but refused to call H in fear that I would push him further away.

I decided to reflect myself. I tried clearing my mind of the emptiness. Sounds silly right?

I sat there and realisation hit me. I was miserable all the time. I cannot remember my last day of feeling happy. Had a slowly sunk into this dip? I felt like such a fool. "Go and reflect" I'd said. "You need help" I'd said. "Just admit it's you, you have a problem" I'd said.

Suddenly I realised I needed help. Maybe it was me. I knew it was a definite that I needed help sleeping. My mind raced. I spoke to a friend. It was time to get someone elses point of view, someone else who knows first hand how I am feeling. I was still numb. My body was lifeless.

I telephoned the doctor, in hope of an appointment. 'If I could get one decent nights sleep' I thought. Sat in the waiting room I felt a bit silly. I felt fine. Why was I going to the doctors? I'm going to come across as a nutter if I go in there and there's nothing wrong with me. I had not cried all morning. There was nothing wrong with me.

My name came up on the screen. In I went. At the first question my eyes filled up. I tried to talk. I had felt like this for so long that it was hard to believe I had a problem, that it wasn't just the way I was. The doctor was excellent. Talked me through everything. Most he knew, due to my previous breakdown in the doctors chair with a different doctor merely a few months before. After a quick assessment, a few questions, a few more tears and trembling voiced answers, the doctor realised this was not a recent change. I had depression. My problem is that I am so used to being able to put my smiles on. I exhaust myself. Unfortunately by doing this I had managed to push the people closest to me away. It was time to accept help!

BRAIN IN A KNOT

So today marks the last day of H's three week summer leave. In roughly seven months he will be leaving for Afghanistan. It was this time before his last tour that we met, seven months before he left. So, last time we were wooing each other, we were in the honeymoon period. This time we are well established, we're married, we have a gorgeous son. Last time I had J, but our relationship was mainly just H and I. Right now my mind is pickled as to how I feel about H's next tour. Now his summer leave is over it's time for him to train himself (or for the army to train him) into a killing machine. I feel like this time around there will be no wooing, I'm going to be put on a shelf and be picked up when I'm needed for a quick reality fix. Let's hope my feelings are wrong.

I understand that I'm not only married to H, I'm married to the army too. However I do not want the both to merge when it comes to my relationship, I am married to H not an Action Man.

This leave has been a different one. It has been great to see H with the children, there were Sergeant Major moments, but when I see the three of them together my heart aches. The children get used to him being home then he disappears again. Poof! Like a fairy God mother in a pantomime, "He's behind you" - oh no wait, he was, now he's gone.
If I ask T where Daddy is, his response is "Daddy gone, out the door".

As for H and I this leave, it has been very weird. The first week was lovely, but it quickly turns into that statement you hear so often from people who have been on holiday - "A week is too short, two weeks is too long". My oh my, this leave was three weeks. The amount of times I prayed for patience and strength. I found it very hard to adjust to having someone in the house every day, someone who doesn't go to bed before you, therefore eliminating your chill down time. I use that time to watch mind numbing TV. A time when I can do nothing. No conversation.
The result of this made me feel a bit like a sardine, even though there were only two of us in the room. I felt a bit suffocated.
It seems that he just flutters into my life, and expects me to adjust straight away, then he just flutters away again. Like the moment a butterfly lands on you, you're all anxious and scared to move just in case it flies away. You heart pumps, then when the butterfly's gone, it is like you have never even been touched.

Whilst H is getting under my feet, all I keep thinking is that he's going back to work soon. Then when the day comes that he's off I hurt. I have wasted my time with trying to adjust. Why was it so hard this time? I never wanted to become on of "those" wives, the moaning ones. But I couldn't hold it in any more. I went to a friends house and just let it out. That really helped. We shared experiences, even though are partners are in different regiments. It accured to me how important it is to know people in the same boat as yourself. I went back to H feeling quite refreshed, but not yet adjusted.

When I feel like I'm finally adjusting, and my house is no longer a pit, and that pile of army things that came with him is sorted, he decides to flutter away. Why does it take so long to adjust? Did I actually adjust, or did I just relax at the thought of him going back to work? Who knows, but either way I hope it happens sooner with his next leave time. I need to prepare myself for his return a little better, none of my friends have to prepare for their husbands company! This life never gets easier, even when they're just in this country.

DO I EXIST?

My opinions change often with the option of whether to live in an Army house (pad) near my husbands base. It was never an issue before H & I got married, because it wasn't an option, and I had firm beliefs that it was a no-go option and I would never move.

I do however find it hard at times when I talk to the one friend I do have that lives in a pad. She talks about coffee mornings, and has the option to go on little trips provided by the battalion. I get nothing, I often wonder if the Welsh Guards even know I exist!

I often feel very alone living at home in Wales. The three girls I do talk to are now ex-army partners as their husbands/boyfriends have left the army following the battalions last deployment. I've started getting closer to one of the army girlfriends, but now her partner is leaving the army just before the battalions next tour.

The anticipation of H leaving for Afghanistan again is horrible, never mind the thought that this time I will be alone with no-one around me who actually truly understands. Sure I have my friends and my family, but will they be hurting when I'm hurting, will they understand the hurt? And then there are those moments when I have to bite my lip whilst I listen to them tell me that they know what I'm going through because they're husbands/boyfriends go away on holidays for a week and tell me how hard it is for them. All I hear is "blah blah blah". I have to hold back from screaming "ATLEAST YOU KNOW HE'S NOT GETTING SHOT AT". They compare the fact that they may die on the journey over on the plane. What? So H doesn't also go on a plane to get to AFGHANISTAN where he is also a target to be killed?! ARGH! I just smile and nod.

At least with fellow army wives I can say "I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood to be around company" and they will understand and not get offended. A lot of my friends no longer call or text me to see if I want to go out, or even to see if I want a coffee. They are the friends that don't understand and never will. I suppose I'm a little grateful for their lack of interest in our friendship, why do I want people like that in my life?

I am very blessed to have found life-long friendships in my church family. I can be myself with them and none of them judge me. They pop over just to see if I'm ok, and if I need any help. They sit and pray with me, they watch me cry, they watch my laugh. They may not understand what I'm going through, but they know how to make me feel that little bit better, especially when they come over with cake!

My family are ok at understanding, but they have their own lives to deal with. Having become an only child at the age of 14 I know that my mum is always there no matter what. She cooks for me when I'm low to ensure I eat, she takes the children out when I need a break, and every Monday she takes J to his karate lesson because I can't as T is in bed. But even to my mum I can put on a front, and smile when I'm dying inside. This is because I don't want to hurt her by seeing me cry. I know that sounds silly, but that's the way my mind works sometimes.

During H's last tour my good friend A was still an army wife. We often met up for lunch or dinner. We were both pregnant, so neither of us wanted to go to the pub and forget our situations. We would just waddle around! It was nice. This time around I will not have my fellow waddler, her husband is now working on civvy street. Yes she can relate and relive her experiences, but this tour will be a different experience to last, can I take her opinion as comforting? Time will see.

One reason it took me so long to up and leave J's father was due to loneliness. And then I started this life, a life full of loneliness. Fortunately it is also a life of pride. Had this life been with a "regular" guy I would've booted him out by now. Never home, out with the boys during the week, only seeing his children at weekends. I may have chosen to date a soldier, but it was a matter of weeks before I fell in love with him, it was not a conscious decision to live this life, it was a decision made by my heart.

My reason for not wanting to move into a pad is because I cannot bare the thought of moving my children from school to school everytime the battalion move. They will have no "proper" friends, and to me that way of life is not stable enough for a child. In those moments when I'm trying to persuade myself that it will be a fun life for the children I then remember where my husband is currently based. The surrounding area to my husbands camp is 100% not suitable for a woman who is often left on her own, never mind bringing up children there.

I live in hope that one day the army will recognise me as my husbands wife, and will involve me so I no longer feel on the outside of the circle. Army life is definitely a bubble.

THE ONE YEAR OF MARRIAGE MILESTONE

I woke up one Friday morning, realising that in just over a week I would have been a married woman for a year. Wow! Time goes so fast, I couldn't believe it. I sat there and thought "One year is Paper gift, right?! Divorce papers?". That made me chuckle. I didn't want to buy him paper, or a book, or even photographs. I pondered a while, then the perfect gift popped into my head, the gift required a trip into Cardiff. I knew which shop sold it as H and I had walked past and he'd commented on wanting to get it for his dad, even though I knew he wanted it for himself!

Penderyn Whisky. H has a history with this whisky, and you will now guess why he wanted to buy it for his dad. In H's youth his father had been given a rugby ball shaped bottle of Penderyn whisky. There were only ever 250 of these bottles made. His father had no intention of drinking it, but kept it on a shelf in the kitchen.
After a night out with the boys, H and a friend arrived home slightly tipsy (well probably extremely drunk, H has hollow legs!). They thought it would be a good idea to open and drink H's fathers whisky. They drank it all. I'm not sure what consequences this action created but I'm 100% sure H's dad wasn't very happy the next morning.

J was out with a friend, so I went into Cardiff with T on my own. The first place I went when I got into the city was the Welsh shop that sold the perfect gift. I headed straight for the whisky counter. The guy talked me through the gift boxes they sold, and whilst he was doing so T was shouting and pointing "Daddy, Daddy!". I looked over the man's shoulder who was serving me, and hanging on the wall in a dark wooden frame was a picture of a young boy wearing a bright red tunic. I scanned the picture, counting the buttons on the tunic. "That's not Daddy, he doesn't have 5 buttons". T looked at me and back at the picture. The man behind the counter said "Oh that's my nephew, he's a Grenadier Guard". I explained that my husband was a Welsh Guard and the man proceeded to ask if he'd ever been in Afghanistan. We spoke for a while, then he looked at me and said "His mother has said if he ever goes back it would kill her, too much stress. She was petrified whilst he was there". So many emotions flooded my head in waves. I smiled and responded with "Yes it is quite difficult, but you just have to accept it I guess". I paid for my purchase and left. This guy had me thinking, H and I had got married, and H had met Tomas, but it could've been so different. I was extremely blessed to have H in my life, and blessed to know that God is faithful and protected him whilst deployed. Talking to that guy also reminded me of the life I had chose. I know my decision was the right one, however hard it gets. Within the last year we have had our difficulties. The first year of marriage isn't all about holding hands and skipping through meadows.

Looking back on our year of Mr & Mrs is a strange one, what can I see that has changed? We still lived in the same house, I still only saw my husband at weekends. Life doesn't change.

I look into the future, into our next year and the things we will face. Another tour, Herrick 16. It loomed like a dark cloud, it crept into my mind every silent second. In work I would hear a song from his last tour and my eyes would fill up, the anxiety overwhelming. I tried to shake it off, but I let things in, and sometimes they overtake me. During H's last tour I was just his girlfriend/fiancée, this time around I was his wife, his next of kin. I have nightmares of uniformed men knocking at the door whilst I'm at work. This terrifies me. I loved him more than ever now, and in' just going to love him more when it's time to say goodbye for 7 months.
I do shut the thoughts to the back of my mind, but they lay dormant and sting me every now and again.

One thing that plays on my mind is the children, J has been through this before, at least I know he's my corner stone and keeps me stable. But this time T will be knowing, he will understand that his Daddy has been gone for a while. T was barely a year old when H went to Kenya for 6 weeks. It was hard. I redecorated the living room whilst he was gone, and it was leading up to Christmas.
I was the "single" woman lugging a Christmas tree through B & Q, I was the "single" woman squeezing the tree into my little Fiesta, and I was the "single" woman sawing off the end of the tree in the front garden to fit into our stand. I did all this with paint on my hands and clothes, as I had literally just completed the living room! I felt independent and strong, but I was still surgically attached to my mobile willing for it to ring. Whilst H was in Kenya I hardly heard a peep, I think he was in his third or fourth week before I received a phonecall, I sent him emails though (I got the address from a fellow Army wife).
When H was back in the UK I drove to his barracks to pick him up. The excitement was unbearable! I knew he would look sexy, all tanned. I turned into the barracks and stopped before the gate. The butterflies were ridiculous, I could feel my stomach doing somersaults. I caught a glimpse of a tall, thin, uniformed soldier. I stared. It was him! I jumped out of the car, and ran. I gripped him and squeezed. He smiled at me and we kissed. It may have only been 6 weeks without my man, but 6 weeks was enough with hardly any contact at all. I could count on one hand the amount of calls I'd received from him.
H was very excited to see the boys. He'd bought them presents. My dad was at the house looking after the boys, and I let him know when we were on our way home. It was late, and there was snow.
When we parked up my butterflies returned, I had no idea how T was going to react, or even if he'd remember his Dad. My father had kept him up so H could see him. We opened the door and I heard a squeal from the living room. T went crazy when he saw H. He remembered. He started running the length of the room, and head-butting the sofa. He jumped all over H, it was unbelievable, but lovely just the same.

I just pray that T remembers H after a longer period away, and I pray that it does not affect T in a negative way. It's a wait and see matter.

When I look back on my life with H I smile, when I look into our future I smile (even if it is sometimes forced). And right now, I look at H, I look at his perfectly formed lips, at his handsome eyes and I cherish it. I sometimes don't like the situations I find myself in, but when I remember why I'm doing them I smile. I do it all for him!

BECOMING A CHRISTIAN

I was brought up with God in my life. I went to Catholic primary and secondary school, also doing Performing Arts in a Catholic college (which I thought to be a wasted topic so dropped out after 8 months). I had been Christened, and followed this up with my Holy Communion. I did not go through with the Confirmation, at that age I was beginning to think "Why do I need yo' do these strict ceremonies to have a faith?!" and I rebelled a bit. I have never stopped believing in God, even if my faith has been a bit of a rollercoaster.

Whilst in Secondary school I attended mass every Friday, and my faith was apparent. Our priest was funny, he was rather young and used to play the banjo and sing a lot.

When my brother died, I did not go off the rails, or turn into an uncontrollable mess. I did however shut down a bit. If God was real why would he have let my brother do that to himself? If God was real why didn't he stop the pain I was feeling?

People treated me different after my brother died. I still wanted to be a teenager, why couldn't people just see that I was still me? I was still Kirsty! People did not need to smile that awkward smile whilst passing in the corridor. Just be normal, please!

Only weeks, maybe two months maximum, after my brother killed himself, I had a school tripped planned and booked to go to London. Just to be on the "safe side", my teachers thought it would be best if I and my roomy had a room (the only pupil room) on the same floor as them in the hotel. Why? I wasn't going to need them. I wasn't suddenly going to let everything out and open up to them!

I think my emotions and anxiety and depression became apparent one day at school, in a Welsh lesson. It was not my teachers fault, although I still wish he had looked up and seen me in his class before opening his mouth. He skimmed his eyes over all our miserable faces (not taking any of the faces in, otherwise he'd have realised that the next thing to come out of his mouth was not appropriate). He stood up, and trying to be a friendly teacher and be "cool", he started talking about the previous nights television programmes. His opening line was "Did anyone see that programme on prisons last night? It's crazy you know, even before they're settled into the room they get shown by other inmates how to tie the correct knot in order to hang themselves". All eyes on my table stared at me. I had no choice. I grabbed my bag, and ran out the door into the girls toilets. I heard my teacher gasp in horror as I walked out the door and he realised what he had just done.

After that I started having councelling with the schools priest. We never once sat and read the bible, and he never preached to me. But that was, maybe, the first time I saw God doing his thing through good people. That priest will never know how much he helped by just talking to me, and it's awful that I can't even remember his name. But I thank him for helping me through.

Upon leaving school I never followed God in any way. I was pregnant at the age of 17, and also rebelled a bit in my late teen/early twenties by going out and getting drunk at weekends.

As you've all read, I met my husband when I was 22. From leaving school until then I hadn't really given God a thought. I spoke to my brother, who I believed to be with God in Heaven, and I had attended a few services at a Spiritualist church in hope that my brother would give me a message.

It was time to be welcomed into my current church just before H was deployed for Afghanistan. It was a totally new experience for me. They sang and danced, and the speaker really spoke to me. Even though H would not be here to go with me every week, I took it upon myself to start going every Sunday, not only to see my sister-in-law but also to sing, to listen, to cry tears full of hope.

I read the bible, getting a lot from the Psalms whilst H was away. I spoke to God, I prayed for H. I prayed that he was home for the birth of T, I prayed that he came home in one piece, I prayed that he came home alive. I didn't only pray for his safe return, I prayed for his comfort whilst out there, and I prayed for myself, for inner strength to get me through each day. God answered these prayers.

When H returned home from Afghanistan I continued to go to church, and H joined me occasionally. I now thanked God for H's return, I thanked God for our baby boy, and I thanked God for keeping our family knitted even though we had been through some form of hell.

In February 2010, Valentines Day, H did not feel up to coming to church. I went alone. That day I raised my hand and gave my life to Jesus. I laughed, I cried. I was happy. Since that day, we have still had our struggles, but I look up at God and I know he will help me.

Some people do not understand why I am a Christian. But let me tell you this... When the person you love the most is in a dangerous situation, you need to seek faith and hope yo' help you through the day. And when you hear my following story you will see God's work in action.

H came home from Afghanistan and I finally got to hear some situations he had found himself in. One of these "stories" was very hard to hear, as things could have turned out so differently.

H was out on patrol at night, the route they had planned had already been checked for bombs etc. All was safe fir the boys to go ahead. Whilst on route God told H he needed to stop and not take one more step forward. H stopped. All the boys were shouting at him to continue on, but he refused. He demanded light on his path before he continued. As his path was lit up, two IED's could be seen in front of H's feet. One more step and he would have been gone. Some call that coincidence, but who was that voice inside H's head telling him to stop, and not to take one more step.

If you would like to, please read Psalm 18. I read this scripture a lot whilst H was away on deployment. The Lord is my strength.



Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13:13 NLT)

A LONELY BIRTHDAY

So I've met my best friend, I've fallen in love with him, I've had his baby and I've married him. Time to fill in a few gaps in this pavement.

Whilst H was in Afghanistan my birthday was looming. I was pregnant with T, so I could hardly drown my sorrows and forget the pain of spending a birthday without him by my side.

The anxiety whilst a loved one is away is very hard, and with a special occasion on the horizon, you crave for them more than ever. I remember it well. H had called a few days before the date of my birthday, he warned me so that I wouldn't be upset. He told me that he wouldn't talk to me now for over a week as he was very very busy and out on the ground a lot, he said he didn't have a phone in the base he was heading. My heart sank, even though he was able to wish me a wonderful birthday during that conversation, I knew it wouldn't be enough when it came to my actually birthday. I cried when I got off the phone to him. I cried because of the anxiety I felt about not talking to him for several days, and I cried because I wouldn't hear his voice on my birthday.

My birthday came, I stayed at my mothers. I was surrounded by family, but felt completely alone and separate from the world. I put on smiles whilst I opened gifts, and even though I really did appreciate my gifts, I tried so hard to look happy that I may have come across as spoilt, unappreciative, and rude. False smiles never win, they do not shine.

It was approaching evening time, my mother was taking me and J for a meal down the beach front. We could walk there from her house. I was merely 10 steps away from my mothers front door when my phone started ringing, could it be? I ran in front of J and my mum, fumbling in my bag to reach my phone in time. I looked down at it, tears filling my eyes. That satellite number flashed on my screen. "Hello?"

"Happy Birthday baby". I cried. If my mum and my son hadn't have been a few pace behind me I think I would have collapsed in excitement. He explained to me how he couldn't not call me, it had been killing him all of that day, knowing I would have been feeling alone. He told me how he'd had to run to a nearby base to use there phone, and stupidly told me that he'd been shot at whilst running there. He laughed it off. I cried.

I didn't need flowers, diamonds, lavish gifts. All I needed on that day was to hear my mans voice, and my wish was granted. H will never know what those 3 little opening words did for me that day - "Happy Birthday baby"!

My mum hugged me when I got off the phone. And we walked (I almost skipped, I felt that good) down the beach. I looked out at the sea. I asked for a moment, and I walked to the end of the pier, in my head the further out into the sea I was the closer I was to him, my man. I looked up at the skies, "Thank you" I whispered.

My birthday didn't feel so lonely after all. That one call made me forget the anxiety of the day that night. I slept well. I had heard from my best friend.

Think of a wonderful thought...

MARRYING A TOY SOLDIER

How can someone explain the anxiety, the excitement, the nerves of a Bride the night before her wedding?

One sleep! This was it, I had one night left as being "me". Not a lot will change once I am married, but I will have a new name. This was hard to get my head around. I sat in my mothers conservatory and scribbled my new signature on a piece of scrap paper. I was running out of room. A couple of weeks beforehand I'd text H's sister in a slight panic worried about whether I'd sign the register with my maiden name or my married name. It was to be signed in my maiden name, the last time I ever sign that signature. I practised my new scribble anyway, just to get the feel of it. It felt good.

I longingly wanted to text or call H the night before our Big Day. I hadn't seen him for a week as he'd been in work, on ceremonial duties outside The Queen's home, Buckingham Palace. H was glad that he had been promoted since his last time on ceremonial duty. This time he no longer had to stand still outside the palace, and randomly march when bored. He simply marched out and changed the guards. I took the children to watch him a few weeks before the wedding. J understood and was so excited when he saw Daddy marching along out of St James' Palace. We stood close enough to hear his distinctive Welsh accent read the guard his "rights" (if that's what they're called!). It was funny to see him, dressed in that trademark red tunic, and what seemed like a gigantic Bear Skin on his head. Once H had done his bit, I grabbed the children and we ran to the front of Buckingham Palace to watch the big, rehearsed, changing of the guard. H told us where to stand to get best view of him. It made me giggle, watching all these "toy soldiers" marching around. Even though H hates the fact he has to guard the Royal Family, I definitely felt proud as I stood there and watched him. Everything timed perfectly.

I had spoken to H the week before the wedding, but I knew I couldn't speak to him the night before. I'm by no means superstitious but I knew I wasn't to talk to him. He stayed at his mothers that night, and I stayed with my mum. I had a bath and relaxed as much as I could. I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep that night, but I slept like a baby.

'BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP'! I was already awake. The alarm startled me into the real world however. The day was here, it was really here. I looked over at the wardrobe where my beautiful wedding dress was hanging. I ran my fingers over the clear casing it was in. Butterflies flew around my stomach. My phone buzzed and the front door knocked. My bridesmaids. My gorgeous cousin S was at the door, and my dear friend L was on her way. I ran downstairs, my mum was cooking me poached egg and smoked salmon on a toasted muffin. Delicious. Once that had gone down we popped the bottles of Marks & Spencer's pre mixed cocktails. Another knock at the door and my hairdresser arrived. My hairdresser was also one of my best friends. Her mum was my florist and rang whilst she was with me to say that the venue looked superb. The hairs all over my body stood on end, and I gave a little shudder. Excitement ran through my veins.
With all of our hair done, we loaded the car with ourselves and our belongings (including my dress). We all managed to squeeze into my mums bright yellow Mini. Not quite the entrance of a bride, but luckily the hotel had given me the Bridal suite all day so I was getting ready there.
H rang my bridesmaids as we drove to the venue. They explained where we were and how long we would be to ensure he was hidden away in his room with his parents when I arrived. I grabbed my dress and ran up the staircase quickly to hid myself in the Bridal suite. "Kirsty?" I heard a Welsh accent behind me, I turned and saw H's dad. He gave me a smile and a wink, with that I carried on running.

I sat, fidgety, as my make-up was being done. My bridesmaids running around the room getting themselves ready. I looked over at L, who was cheekily laying out my Bridal lingerie on the four-poster bed.
The Febuary before the wedding, I had been sat in church and decided it was time for me to become a Christian. My mother-in-law & sister-in-law baptised me in the baptism pool within our church foyer. As I had done this, I therefore made H wait until our wedding night to make love. He was surprisingly cool with this, and said if that is my wish he shall be happy.
I blushed slightly looking at the lingerie. Butterflies once more swirled around my belly. "Pout your lips babe" my mum said to me. She applied the gloss over my lipstick. "There" she said "Beautiful". My mind quickly went off the thought of our first wedded night. It was time to step into the dress.

I now looked like a bride. A real bride. My hair was done, my make-up was done, I had a beautiful dress on. This was it. I looked at my bridesmaids, my mum had scurried off to get herself ready. We all looked amazing. L picked up the box of my Something New. I smiled at her and sat on the bed. One after the other she did the honour of slipping on my shoes. S passed me my Something Blue, I carefully slid my vintage French lace garter, complete with blue Swarofski crystal heart, up my thigh. My Something Old and Something Borrowed was one item. One of the girls gently draped my Great Nan's pearls around my neck and fastened the diamond encrusted clip. Tears filled my eyes as my father walked in the room and set eyes upon my dress for the first time. He coughed "You look beautiful" he said, and kissed me on the cheek. I wanted to grab him and hug him and tell him I love him, in fear of ruining my look and squeezed his hand and said "Thank you". My dad wasn't one to show emotion openly. That was enough.

My bridesmaids securely fitted my veil, and I was complete.

I linked arms with my father, and we walked together down the corridor. He held my hand tightly as I took baby steps down the stairs, my legs turning to jelly. The hotel manager met me at the bottom step, "Would you like a glass of water?"
I thought gin more appropriate, but accepted his offer. Other hotel guests gasped and whispered "she looks beautiful" as I walked through the lounge with my entourage. My registrar met my before I reached the room in which I was to wed. Her name was Jodie. She told me H was there, and drinking nervously from his hip flask. I could hear the sweet, calming sound of the harpist. My mind was hazy.
I looked down to see J (aged 5 at the time), dressed as a page boy, smiling at me. "You look pretty mummy", my heart leapt. I bowed down, took his hand and kissed his cheek. "Remember what you have to do, you have the biggest responsibility of all." He nodded. "When Jodie asks for the rings you must come forward and hold out mummy and daddy's rings. Ok baby boy?". He nodded again.
He took my niece's hand. The harpist started playing Canon in D. This was me, this was my part. I heard the guests stand up. My dad ushered my page boy and my flower girl through the doors, off the skipped. I looked at my dad, panicked. My veil, I wanted my veil over my face. What a time to decide huh?!
My bridesmaids rushed around me. Over my face the veil went. I breathed. In went my cousin S. Then at the next point, in went L. I linked arms with my dad, and he held my hand using his other arm. "I love you" he said, "I love you too dad". Off we went.
The smell of my Wedding Day Yankee Candles filled my nostrils. It seemed like thousands of faces staring at me, but we only had 60 guests. I turned into the aisle.

At that moment, the perfect moment, my heart definitel skipped a beat. H turned to look at me, Canon in D being played by the harpist still. His smile bowled me over. I felt like I was floating. He reached out to me, like Prince Charming with Cinderella, as I reached the bottom of my 1000 mile walk down the aisle. My dad carefully pulled the veil back from my face, and H kissed me.

This was the perfect beginning to the perfect day.

The day went by about 100mph, but I cherish every moment.

In the evening the DJ announced our first dance. The Script- I'm Yours. As far as H and I were concerned we were the only people in that room. A lot of people later told me that they'd managed to keep it together until then. My Prince and I.
We danced our first dance along, we then invited people to join the dance floor to our second dance. Our song, Set The Fire To The Third Bar by Snow Patrol.
I could not have asked for a better day or not.

I managed to drag my father up for our dance. We danced alone for the first minute or so, and I heard my mum say from a table nearby "She really loves him", she said this in a beautiful way, in a happy way. I blinked fast to stop my tears as a response to that statement. Half way though George Michael & Elton John - Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me, J joined us. We held J's hands and danced around the dancefloor, 3 generations.

That night H and I hurried up the hotel stairs to the Bridal suite...

All elements of the day fulfilled. Welcome to married life, as an Army Wife...