We were 18. We had a kid. We were engaged....living with his dad... trying to go to school and working dead end jobs. Things were going ok. But we were surrounded by family, while wonderful, had a toe in everything that we did.
Enter the Air Force.
My, then, fiance' had been considering the military for a couple of years. Recruiters knocked back a coke or two on his couch through out high school. But now he had a family to support. His considerations turned into very really possibilities. We talked and he signed his name on the dotted line just 3 days after his 19th birthday and one month after we were married.
Those first 3 months apart were so hard. (Little did I know what was in store for us later on.) I hurt so bad missing him. But 3 months passed quickly. I saved up all sorts of odds and ends during that time in a little nest egg for our first home...for the first place we would start really growing as a unit... a tiny family.
Basic finished and then tech.... and we were on the road to our first base. 12 hours and 4 states away. Our families took it hard. We were babies after all. I rode on an ice chest the entire way between the bucket seats in our tiny U-haul. The Baby's car seat had to take the belt and the chair. But I didn't even notice. We were so excited for the change...the first step in the global trek we'd take.