Asters & Dandelions

Living through this pandemic has brought some obstacles no one could have seen coming. Aside from the major roadblocks such as people not being able to be with their loved ones on holidays, isolation, long lines, and every time you need to run into a store they always seem to be ‘at capacity’, there are setbacks no one ever expected due to the pandemic. Things like gyms closing showers and searching for a place to shower before work, daycares opening later than they used to, if your child even has so much as a runny nose they are out of daycare for 10 days or until we have a negative covid test in hand, or having to run to the daycare because your child is having technical difficulties with his laptop when he’s doing online schooling. Add all of this into routine appointments and check ups and you’re up to your ears in minimum care of your family.

Even with all of the chaos our world is in today, I look back at my memories, carefully curated by my social media, and I’m reminded that at this time last year, I was visiting my children. I had been away from them for nine months and holiday block leave had finally afforded me the opportunity to fly to my in-laws. It was nearly Christmas and Uncle Sam had given me the opportunity to see my children. Last year on Christmas Day, I FaceTimed my husband to include him in our children’s Christmas from Afghanistan. I cried that day that we couldn’t share these moments together with our children. I was thankful to be with our children but happy in a hollow means without their father and my, far better, half there to share these moments with. I cannot help but look back at the last year, and despite the chaos that Covid-19 has produced, remain grateful. 

I finally arrived to my first troop in big army after fighting for my life in purgatory at Fort Huachuca. I was nervous, as expected, but very motivated. I was welcomed with a quick ‘hello, nice to meet you. We’d like you to be present in our fielding. We leave in two weeks’. After being away from my children since Christmas, and my husband since August of 2019, leaving them for nearly two months was low on my to do list but I accepted the challenge gracefully. I was eager to show my tenacity and excitement to be integrated into the troop. We went, we dug fox holes, slept in tents, and showered far less often than we’d have preferred. But we also bonded. I grew. I became familiar with who was who in my troop. Learned a lot about my job with my feet on the ground and no flights sent up by my doing. I spent a lot of that time out in the open field submerged in books and regulations. I didn’t get to fly that first fielding but I returned to Fort Lewis with a greater understanding of my job and much more familiarity with my peers. I came back knowing who could help me grow and who I could look to to find perspective in what I wanted the projection of my own career to look like.

I may not have gotten to fly that first fielding but I grew as an operator and if you had told me from the very beginning, all of the suck and dirt that would have came with that first outing, I wouldn’t just accept it; I’d sign up faster. I went back and forth in my own conscious with requesting those 10 days leave I am afforded as a soldier; first arriving to a unit to get all of my affairs in order. I often considered giving one of the endless, rational reasons why I needed to be home while we were out in the field but in the end I chose to go with my troop. I knew my husband could navigate through daily life with our children with me being away. What a joy and relief it is to know I have someone strong and capable to keep our house moving forward when I am away. I am truly one of the lucky ones. 

I left for the field early in September. I set off on that bus as the ‘new soldier’. I sat in that cold field, clueless majority of the time, as I worked through my husband’s birthday, our anniversary, and my own birthday. I held my own place in our troop and learned minimums expected of any soldier, in any job, in the army. We came back for 10 days that passed more like 10 minutes and we were off again. Back to Yakima for our second outing. This outing I was still new but no longer ‘the new soldier’. People knew my name and I was unafraid to ask anyone who would listen to teach me what they were doing at any given moment in their seemingly monotonous day. I had learned so much that first month in the field and was hungry for more.

Luckily, my team leader had been mission coordinator during a previous rotation to Korea before my arrival and had carried much of the weight in that role our earlier trip to Yakima. This time around, it was his turn to fly and progress as an operator and my turn to fill his shoes in that role. He had already set me up for success; through previous training about the general expectations of a mission coordinator. Because I was low on the totem pole of flights, I quickly filled his shoes in this role. I not only succeeded but prospered in this new task and was later awarded an Army Achievement Medal for my work. 

Our last day in the field, one of my twins had a fever over 100*. I let my team leader know. He quickly filled in our platoon sergeant and we discussed how I’d like to proceed. My team leader asked me immediately if I needed to get home that night. Knowing we left the next day, after talking to my husband, I knew he could handle it the night alone. We arrived back to Fort Lewis the next day and before we could even finish unloading our gear, my team leader directing me to go home to be with my family. As a young soldier, still living in the barracks, he may not always understand my struggles, but he always respects them. I was out of work the following 10 days, per the Child Development Center’s guidance. I arrived back to work to receive a call from my son’s school not an hour into my work day about technical difficulties with his school work. The weeks went on and I received said Army Achievement Medal less than a week after my son’s laptop debacle.

I was so proud of finally progressing after remaining stagnant for so long at Huachuca. I knew I had earned that medal after many strategic plannings and a handful of heated conversation where I may have spoken my mind a little too much to people higher ranking than I. To have my leadership’s full support and confidence in my ability as a soldier at such an early stage of my Army career was, most likely, the highlight of my career thus far. For every peer who was proud of my hard work and acknowledged achievements, there was an equal peer who was bitter or ill about the attainment of my medal. Such a high in my adolescent career was over shadowed by people deciding I was undeserving of my recognition because of my absence due to my children being out of daycare. They believed I was undeserved due to a combination of the youth of my time with the unit, the vagueness of my presence upon our return from the field, their misunderstanding of the difficulty that the role I played in the field faced, and their direct comparison to their lack of recognition for their own hard work.

The day in the life as an unmanned aerial vehicle operator in my troop has been incredibly smooth since our return after those two fieldings. In preparation for the holiday leave many soldiers take to visit their family, our days are mostly filled with simple tasks to keep the minimum mission ready requirements achieved. Most days we are off early and with the holidays approaching fast, our schedules are even lighter than before. I write this post late (or early I suppose) into a Saturday night/ Sunday morning. I had a 24 hour shift Monday of this week. I came home, caught up on some needed rest, and my husband and children came home that afternoon as usual. Madeline was rather congested and she had a pretty steady cough we’d been keeping an eye on for over a week. The next morning I woke up ready to prepare for the day ahead when the three most terrifying numbers of the pandemic appeared across our thermometer: 100*. Despite my hopes of deflecting another CDC directed quarantine, here we were. Her temperature had spiked and she sat in front of me with almost every ‘cold like’ symptom. I called around the tricare network looking for guidance on whether we give her Tylenol to curb the fever and send her to daycare or simply accept this moment of pause. Of course I already knew the correct course of action by the time I spoke to the nurse on call who directed us to seek a medical professional. Madeline was seen later that day and given a covid test. Her daycare’s new guidance is that her, or her siblings, are not allowed back into the facility until 10 days have passed, or a negative covid test.

We have been living life in isolation as smoothly as expected with five humans living under each other’s foot 24/7. I’ve been doing my best to keep my son on his school schedule, make meals, and create busy work for my three children so my upstairs doesn’t turn into a complete pay per view UFC fight due to pure boredom. I have been calling the urgent care facility daily in hopes of receiving that golden ticket of ‘negative’ in her covid test even though they assure me ‘they’ll call me’ once they have results.

It was brought to my attention over the past week that there are quite a few people who doubt my priorities and intentions when it comes to my work. I thought I would use my blog, my safe space, as an outlet to address all of the people who assume I use my children as pawns in the game of ‘what’s the least amount of work I can get away with doing?’.

I’d like to use this safe space as a forum to directly distinguish where I would like to apologize and where there is absolutely no space where apologies are necessary in my career:

I will always infinitely apologize to every single person who has to double up their work load during the days I am unable to come into work. I don’t care if these are ‘easy’ days or ‘short’ days. I too look forward to these days and if my absence has even caused you so much of a 10 minute delay to the end of your work schedule, I apologize. I’d also like to take this space to let you know, if the shoe is ever on the other foot and there is anything at all I can do to make your life easier or your day shorter, I absolutely will. As I said earlier in my post, I am truly one of the lucky ones. I have someone holding my home together when I have to stay late or do more than what is typically expected. If you ever find yourself in a place where you are not one of the lucky ones, know that you can lean on me. I will not ask questions. I will not expect anything in return. Please let me pick up your slack as you have in my absence.

I will however never apologize for being able to be there for my family. As regretful as I am that my absence may make someone’s days longer or harder, I am forever grateful to be here to care for my children and home during their sick days. I will never feel burdened by the needs of my family. Whether that looks like me being away from work because my child is sick in a time where a cold could mean an incurable, undefeated disease that is sweeping our world, playing geek squad at 10:30 am because my son’s laptop will not allow him to access his class in a world that his laptop is his sole means of education, or planning accordingly so my husband too can accomplish his own professional goals alongside me. 

While this post was an update to life after Huachuca, it also serves as a Public Service Announcement that overthrowing the patriarchy that constantly says women probably don’t deserve a seat at the professional table, most likely don’t deserve a seat at the Active Duty Army table, almost certainly don’t deserve a seat at the Army Aviation table, and almost definitely don’t deserve the opportunity to progress, prosper, evolve, and grow into leaders, may be littered with obstacles and real life priorities, here I am.

I would love to be in the gym, bench pressing 300lbs, memorizing every regulation I’d ever need to recall, and showing up and showing out every single day at work, I do also have a life I’ve been, completely undeservingly, granted that comes with it’s own set of to do lists and necessities.

So here I am, late in life, PFC Bercaw, regretfully overwhelmed but confidently tackling all of my hopes, dreams, and goals as a mother, aviator, friend, soldier, and human.