A Letter to the Spouse I Once Was
My Dear Friend,
In my earliest years as a military spouse, one moment stands out with lasting clarity. I was heavily pregnant, new to a unit, and suddenly facing my husband’s unexpected TDY orders. Within hours, the house was quiet, the contractions were beginning, and I realized with a sinking heart that I had no one nearby to call. Not a Key Spouse, not a Chaplain, not even a neighbor—I had not yet woven those threads of connection.
So, I did the only thing that came to mind. I picked up the phone and called my father, in tears. He was back home, hundreds of miles away. Though he had retired from the Air Force Reserves a few years earlier, he still had friends who were active duty. He reached into that network, found the local base chaplain, and ensured someone reached out to me. That lifeline did not come because I knew where to turn—it came because he did. And in that moment, I realized just how unprepared I was for this life.
That experience has lingered with me. It showed me that resources mean little if you do not know about them, or if you do not feel comfortable reaching out. It revealed how isolating those early years can be, and how quickly things may become overwhelming when you lack a plan or a trusted hand to steady you.
If I could whisper to that younger version of myself, I would say:
You need not do it all at once. One number on the fridge, one familiar face at an event—that is enough to begin.
Community matters more than you think. You do not need dozens of friends; one or two who will answer the phone at 2 a.m. can change everything.
It is quite all right not to know. Feeling lost does not mean you are failing—it means you are human. Every spouse has been in that place.
Ask for help sooner. Reaching out before things unravel is a strength, not a weakness.
And most of all, give yourself grace. Those tears on the phone were not a mark of failure—they were part of learning.
The Lesson
The first years of military spouse life rarely look neat or easy. They are full of trial and error, missed phone calls, awkward introductions, and unexpected lifelines. The truth is that none of us start with all the answers. We learn as we go—one PCS, one late-night phone call, one helping hand at a time. The lesson I carry from those early days is this: strength in this life is not found in never faltering, but in learning to reach out, to begin again, and to build a foundation one small step at a time.
To the Spouse Just Beginning
If you are just starting this journey and feel unprepared, please know that you are not alone. Every spouse before you has stumbled, has felt unsure, and has wondered if they were cut out for this. You do not need to know everything today. Start with something small—save one number, say yes to one invitation, introduce yourself to one new face. These little steps are enough. Over time, they will weave into a network of support that steadies you more than you can imagine. And someday, you will be the one offering that first lifeline to someone else.
