I am not an expert. I am not a writer. But here I am: writing. And I can only get better! Hopefully, you’ll stick with me because what I have to share might just make you laugh. Or cry. Or spit out your tea. Either way, I’m ready to give you some support.
My name is Amy. Almost nine years ago I married a wonderful man named David. We have three beautiful children, sixteen chickens, and three goats. David is a firefighter and a paramedic. To me, our life is normal. It is what I know. But, to those outside of the first responder world, it looks crazy. 48 hours on, 24-off, and straight back to work! But, crazy schedules aside, our partners think differently than the rest of the population. Their jokes are sometimes head-scratchers. They’re quirky, and and they obsess over seemingly random things.
Why? Who knows. Except that our partners are placed into situations that the rest of the population rarely knows of. They have a host of trauma thrust upon them; sometimes little trauma, sometimes big. Then they come home.
And home and work are two very different worlds. Once home, our partners are forced into a different role all together. They respond to us and to our children much differently than the rest of the population. This is where things get sticky. We want our partners to talk to us and tell us about the shift. We want to know how they are feeling. They want to protect us from the ugly side of things; death and sadness. But they might not have the tools to process all the feelings that go along with everyday tragedy. So, they become jaded. They try not to feel.
After all, today was not the first time, and it will not be the last time they’ll encounter the darker parts of our world. The shadows become normal. They think in worst case scenarios.
The damn broke for us last October. My husband was shot at in the line of duty. Responding to a fire, he and his crew were ambushed. He took a bullet to the helmet.
Thirty minutes later, my phone rang. I wasn’t expecting a call from David; he was in the middle of a 48-hr shift and I was getting our kids ready for school. Little did I know that this phone call was going to rock our world.
He told me about the ambush so quietly, so nonchalantly, that I didn’t know how to react.
I remember saying, “Okay; well, you’re at station three today, right? I will come by and see you.”
He said, “No, I’m coming home.”
Coming home? In the middle of a shift? Suddenly, the gravity of the situation hit me. David was struck by a bullet in the head. A bullet! In our small town. A place that I have absolutely taken for granted was safe from the really bad stuff.The truth stung: my husband has a scary job. One that I have no control over. One where he might not come home on any given day.
This was a new reality.
And I didn’t know what to do about it, or who to talk to, or where to go for help.
And that’s when Real Life Fire Wife was born. First responders and their families need support. Resources! A community that understands what it means to walk into trauma and emerge again—and re-enter life at home.
My mission became clear. One, make sure that my husband and I learn how to process trauma, so I not only get him home, but home and emotionally available to our family. Two, build a community of support and resources. Whether this support system takes place online, in my home, or at a coffee shop doesn’t matter—as long as we are learning how to lean-into each other and encourage our partners in their work.
Those of us that intimately support first-responders don’t always realize how important we are! We are truly essential to the health and wellbeing of our partners. We’re the bridge that connects them to the more gentle world of picnics and summer gardens. They go out to change the world for the better, and we make their world at home better. Our partners are brave—but so are we. That’s what Real Life Fire Wife is all about; celebrating and encouraging the silent home brigade.
Are you part of that quiet background? The hero at home? Well, you aren’t alone. There are a million other first responder spouses and partners out there—in this community, and all across the country. Can we get together?
I chose the website name a couple years ago. I really wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it. It just seemed that all of the crazy things in life happened when my husband was on shift. I wanted to be real about it. Share the hysterical and messy stories of life 100% real life. So here I am. Life is messy. But I wouldn’t have any other life.