After a long, restless night, I went downstairs to spend a few minutes drinking my morning coffee and planning out my day. As I sat in the quiet living room, really alone for the first time since the Colonel called me, my chest started hurting. Then my heart started pounding and I could not breathe! What was happening to me? I was sweating, shaking and scared to death. I started thinking “I am going to die! I am having a heart attack! My children are going to be orphans! Please, please God don’t let me die, don’t let my children walk down here and find me. They cannot handle anything else!” As I heard Dakota get out of bed, the sound of him walking around upstairs allowed me to shift my focus and I slowly started calming down. That was my first experience with a panic attack, unfortunately it would not be the last. There are no words to describe the terror that consumes you when you have a panic attack. It is so scary to have one now, when I know what is happening, but the fear I felt having that first one-alone, with the weight of the world on my shoulders, is just indescribable.

Monday afternoon I finally received the call that Tommy had arrived in Germany and the doctor would call me to explain his injuries. President George W. Bush had been in Pakistan the week Tommy was injured and I found out later they received permission to use the plane carrying his armored vehicles to medevac Tommy out of Pakistan. I met President Bush at our Entrepreneurial Bootcamp for Veterans (EBV) national conference in Dallas in 2013 and I was so nervous I forgot all about that! I stood right next to him to have a picture taken and forgot to thank him for my husband being transported home! So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you President Bush.

I finally spoke to the doctor about Tommy’s injuries. He was critical, but stable. He was in a coma and on a ventilator because he was not able to breathe on his own. He had a closed head injury with damage to the occipital lobe (the back of the head) and the temporal lobe (the right side of the head). He did not have a broken jaw but his nose was possibly broken. At this point the head injury was priority-nothing else would matter if he did not recover from that.[bctt tweet="After two days of trying to stay strong though, I was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. "]

Tommy was in Germany getting the best medical care available so I could take a deep breath and calm down little. Angi was at my house waiting with me, but it was time for dinner and her family needed her, so I sent her home. I thought I would be okay because I knew Tommy was safely in Germany and now we were just waiting to see when we would fly over there. It has always been very hard for me to ask for help. I could handle anything; after all, I was an Army wife. After two days of trying to stay strong though, I was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. I went into the kitchen to cook dinner for Dakota and Dustie-Hamburger Helper, green beans and corn, nothing fancy or time consuming. We were a one income military family because I was a full time student so Hamburger Helper was a familiar meal. I could cook that meal in my sleep! I went into the kitchen, gathered my ingredients together and froze-I literally could not figure out how to prepare that meal! I tried to read the directions on the back of the box and they did not make sense! I grabbed my phone in a panic, called Angi and she immediately came back over to cook dinner for my children because I could not. I felt so helpless and defeated because I could not handle that one little task.

While Angi was cooking, a nurse called from the hospital to give me a report on Tommy. After we finished going over his vital signs and status, the nurse asked me if the doctor had informed me of the spinal cord injury. Spinal cord injury? No one had even mentioned the possibility of a spinal cord injury! The nurse proceeded to tell me there was extensive damage at T9/T10 and possible bruising at C7. I felt like my world had just fallen apart! As Angi continued to cook dinner I did what any good nursing student would do and opened my textbook to read about Spinal cord injuries. T9/T10 meant he would be paralyzed from the waist down. I distinctly remember standing in the kitchen at a table Tommy made for Dustie at Christmas, with the sound of hamburger meat sizzling in the background and the smell filling the room as I stared at my textbook and tried to comprehend the fact that my husband would spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

Our life was not perfect, but it was pretty great. We were young and healthy. We had two beautiful children. I was about to graduate from college with my Bachelor’s degree in nursing and Tommy was going to retire from the Army in 6 short years. We had so many plans and a wheelchair was not included in those plans! You cannot go fishing in a wheelchair, you cannot hike in a wheelchair or ride roller coasters or camp or hunt or play golf; the list of things you cannot do in a wheelchair goes on and on and on.

How do I tell my 12 year old son that his dad cannot practice baseball with him? How do I tell my daughter her daddy will not be able to walk her down the aisle? How do I make another call to Tommy’s parents and this time tell them the son they love so much will never walk again? How will I tell my husband that his career in the Army is over? That he will never fly in a Chinook again?[bctt tweet="I realize I am proud to be the woman who stood in the kitchen that day."]

As I write about this time in my life, it is hard to recognize the woman standing in the kitchen that day. My heart breaks for her and I want to hug her and tell her she is going to make it. I want to protect her from the devastating phone calls that are still to come. I want to tell her it is all right to break down and cry, she does not have to be strong all of the time-but I know her and she will not listen. She will continue to do whatever is necessary to remain strong for her family. She will at times feel like the entire world is against her and she just cannot handle another day; but she will put her feet on the floor each morning and somehow hour by hour, minute by minute make it through one day, then another day and another. She will start to see the joy in her life instead of the sorrow and feel hope instead of despair. Life will knock her down again, but she will get back up. She will be ready one day to share her story because she will finally understand the inner strength she has been given and she will want to share it with others. As I watch her in my memory, I realize I am proud to be the woman who stood in the kitchen that day.