There’s a saying, it can come from the mouths of anyone towards military families. It’s not new, no matter who says it. “You knew what you were getting into.” When I look at this photo I’m reminded of what I *knew* I was getting into. I knew I was marrying the love of my life. I knew he wore a uniform. Every day. Which I appreciated, because he looked good in it. I knew there would be moves. And absences. Peacekeeping. Exercises. Courses. I knew I’d agreed to for better or for worse, and figured that meant every day wouldn’t be rainbows. I knew those soldiers with those swords had traveled to our wedding, booked hotels and put on those uniforms all for a teenage kid that was new to their unit but was now one of them. And 0.5 seconds after this photo was taken when the sword smacked my butt and they all said ‘welcome to the Corps’ I knew I felt pretty special. I’ll tell you what I didn’t know. I didn’t know our country and my husband would go to war before our first anniversary, to a country I’d barely heard of. But even if I had, there’s no way I knew how to really understand that cost. I didn’t know what reintegration would look like the 1st or 4th time. I didn’t know that way your heart fills your throat when a phone call ends in a rocket siren. Or the pride that would grow in me for the National Anthem. All the research and marriage preparation courses in the world couldn’t have taught…