CNN iReport

This picture is the only reference point I have for my husband in Iraq. It is the only time I've seen his face since he climbed into a van headed for the airport on his second deployment. The imagine is grainy and blurry at best, which is what my memory is fast becoming, too. Communication for us is limited, and I'm lucky to get one 20-minute phone call twice a month.

Having him gone is the worst kind of pain. It is the burden I chose to bear, but am not happy to. On the outside, I have to stand strong. I have to support my country and my husband, regardless of what I feel. That is the Army way. I am so proud of him for having the courage to step up and serve his country. On the inside, I am angry and worn-thin. Of course I want my husband home, but, it's so much more than that now.

We have a son that will be born in 2 months. My husband won't get a chance to see him until he's 9 months old. He'll miss our son's first Christmas, and plenty of other milestones along the way. It was the burden we chose to bear, and we knew fully what  would be asked of us. That doesn't make it any easier to say goodbye when the time comes to fly 7,000 miles away.

A 15-month deployment is unthinkable, and what is even more disgusting is that somehow, through all of this, I would praise God on bended knees if by some miracle it were reduced to 12. 

As an Army wife, I stand proudly behind my husband, and I'll have him gone as long as it takes him to complete the mission at hand. I stand silently resilient with a yellow ribbon tied to the oak tree in the front yard.

As an American citizen independent of the Armed Forces, I pray that this war doesn't go on forever - the next Korea, with troops indefinitely stationed at the ready. It is our duty as world citizens to right the wrongs we've made. It's time to put down the guns and rebuild that country. Millions have been displaced. A humanitarian crisis is before us, and we choose not to notice. Our presence can be used to rebuild roads, schools, and communities. We can work together despite our differing ideologies. It is a slow and painful process, but the world would be all the better for it.

My husband can't know how I truly feel, because knowing such a rift exists within our family would compromise him and his mission. I have to smile, nod, give the 'go-get-em' speech, and pretend that everything's okay. What I have learned is that to survive as a military spouse, I cannot be two people at once. I am juxtaposed with myself, living two separate, compartmentalized lives. It is my small sacrifice for the good of this nation, and it is my sincerest hope that we pay it forward and sacrifice some of our own  pride and prowess for the good of the world. Five years is too long. It's time to make things right.