What happened was basically this: back then (over a decade ago, and at the very beginning stages of Operation Iraqi Freedom), red tape and paperwork was even more of a bear than it is today. Today, everything is digital and there's been a decade to work out the kinks. Back then, our active duty ID cards were still green and we still carried around actual paper files for everything. So when we went to get me registered in DEERS, as every service member and dependent is registered in DEERS, I was still in their system as an active duty Marine. Rather than just add me as a Marine married to another Marine, the DEERS office opted to add me to their system under a pseudo-social – or a fake social security number - attached to his personnel file. Because we all know that’s the most secure way to do crap, right?
That was Monday. Thursday we had Thanksgiving and Saturday he flew back to California to deploy with his unit. He returned from Iraq in mid-July, went on leave for a month, went to the field off and on for 3 months, went on pre-deployment leave, and then went back to Iraq for another 7 months. In the mess of things – deployments, a cancer diagnosis, field ops, and then orders to North Carolina, our DEERS issue seemed like it was never going to get resolved. Because, basically, Marine Corps.
When we got to North Carolina, the DEERS office finally determined that they could fix the issue. Of course they could fix it, in the fashion that only the Marine Corps is capable of.
Within two months of moving, we found out that we were expecting DITY baby number two. Military couples have this running joke about deployment babies. Every military child born within the last twelve years was born nearly exactly nine months after his or her parent came home from deployment. It happens – check the statistics on that highly scientific crap. Well – in our family, we have DITY babies. Every time we PCS or DITY move, we pop out a baby. Extra unnecessary precautions were taken during our last three moves because, well, exhaustion.
The problem came in that every time I had to make an appointment, either OBGYN or with my regular provider, if they typed in my husband’s last four (of his social security number, which is how the military tracks everything), I came up under the pseudo-social. If they typed in his full social, I came up normal. When I went in to have my blood test to confirm the pregnancy, they typed his full social from my ID card, and BOOM, I was pregnant. But the lady with the pseudo-social wasn’t. Do you see where I’m going with this?
Of course, it gets even better. Because, Semper Gumby. | DEERS assured me they would fix this, and it would be all fine and well before I went in to have the baby. And true to their word, I was in the system the day I had our son. Literally, that day. |
Of course, it gets even better. Because, Semper Gumby.
Fast forward 6 weeks. You know that number, Moms who are married to service members that deploy a LOT. It’s the date you get to go to the doctor for the okay to have sex again and you pray she recommends the highest dosage of birth control possible but that she gives you two thumbs up for sex because let’s be honest, we liked that part of baby-making, and we never know when our husbands are going to be shipped off again. I sailed into the clinic with the baby carrier on my arm and my daughter holding my hand, day dreaming of the sex I was finally going to get to have.
I checked in at the counter and then was called back up by a nurse. I grinned and thought, “Maybe she’ll just tell me to go have sex now and skip the whole appointment thing.” Guys, I really just wanted to have sex with my husband. Have I made that part clear yet? After the first baby, he was deployed and then I had medical issues and then the cancer and it was months and months and I just.. I don’t have to explain this to you. You get it. Anyway.
“Ma’am? Are you the first wife?”
Well that’s a weird question, but okay. “Yes,” I grinned.
"We can’t allow you to check in,” the nurse told me.
What the what? “I’m sorry?” I returned, obviously confused off my rocker. “Why?”
“Because first wives aren’t generally allowed to check in for subsequent wives,” the nurse answered, looking me over like I was some kind of evil impersonator trying to steal classified information.
I mean, her answer made perfect sense. So I asked what any reasonable woman in my position would ask.
“How many wives does my husband have?”
To which she replied, “Apparently three, but there could be more.”
Thanks to the Marine Corps and DEERS, I am apparently my husband’s first, second, and third wife...
Image Credit: mzeecedric via Flickr