This is my time. This is my children’s time, and this is our story. We were a typical American family until my wife, in search of entrance in the Army’s physician assistant program, went on active duty. Please don’t misunderstand me: I supported her quest then and I do today. She is a very beautiful woman, an excellent student, a fabulous mother and the love of my life. I will support her in anything she wants to do. I had my turn and now it is hers.

She was in North Carolina and I was in New York, sick in bed, when she called me with the news she was going to Iraq. I have made those calls to her before and yet, despite that and a daily dose of CNN, I was stunned. We agreed not to tell the kids until we were all together. We hoped the closeness would somehow minimize the reality of the message.

I sat in bed that night telling myself over and over that I could do this. Then the panic set in and I cried. I was a former Army officer, a Black Hawk pilot and a man, and all I could do was cry because my wife was going to war. I had no idea how to get the kids to school on time, let alone how to feed them on a daily basis. I was not prepared for this...

I felt totally alone.

We decided to move to Fort Bragg, N.C., so the kids and I would be with other military families. We had spent the first seven years of our marriage surrounded by military families, and it had helped when I was deployed. We assumed it would be the same when she was deployed. Lesson No. 1: Just because they have changed the name to spouses club from wives club does not make men welcome. If I were deployed, I’m not sure that I would feel comfortable with my wife hanging out with another soldier’s husband...

I’m not sure when it happened, but one day I looked at the dirty dishes, the dirty clothes and the dirty kids, and the light came on. I cleaned up and did the laundry. I sent three grumbling maniacs to the bathtub and I made dinner. Joshua, my 10-year-old, said it sucked, but he ate it. The next morning, Erin, my 7-year-old daughter, said I didn’t kiss as good as Mommy. She kissed me twice so I could practice. Tyler, my 11-year-old daughter, cleaned the house for me while I was out the next day. It was spotless...

I have learned what our soldiers’ wives have known for generations: hope and grief and perseverance...I am learning how to be a father and a mother. It does not always go well. Sociologists and psychologists would probably have an absolute blast in my home...This is a new world where our mothers, sisters, daughters and wives go to war. Gentlemen, we had better get prepared!

Each morning when I wake up, I kiss my children and hold them close. They have suffered the same loss I have, yet they smile at me every day and tell me they love me. We talk about Mom and the war and we leave CNN off. When we go to bed each night, we all say one prayer: God, please bring our mommy home safe. She is always in our hearts and in our thoughts and we can hardly wait to have her home with us.