By Kay Schrock
When is a police wife considered seasoned? What is the requirement to have a respected voice? Is it when her husband has served his 30 years and has retired? Is it after he lost a battle, and all she has left is a folded flag?
“She doesn’t wear the badge!” many a cop has decried, yet she stands behind it every day. When the badge goes on, it covers her heart, too. When it is mocked, she feels the pain. When it stands firm in the face of evil, she’s standing there behind it. When it runs straight into danger, she is there too. Because she is a part of him.
When that badge is polished and pinned on Class As, her heart beats with pride. When it is shrouded in black, her heart breaks. When it is removed in dishonor, she feels betrayal.
Everyday sacrifices
When he was in the academy, she kept the home fires burning. She helped him study, and became the practice person for cuffing techniques and sobriety maneuvers. She washes his uniforms and endless black socks, and buys Febreze by the gallon.
She is often the single parent at family events. She’s the one who stands gazing out the window, wondering what’s keeping him so long this time. She turns on the scanner, like a guilty secret, just to hear his voice. She prays herself to sleep, wakes up alone, and reassures their kids that Daddy is OK. She’s the one who puts a plate of food in the fridge and learns not to depend on having her birthday or anniversary remembered.
She is the one who sees the exhaustion in his eyes, hears the sadness in his voice, and watches the gray hair begin to show.
Living with the badge
She makes the doctor appointments for his back wrecked by the duty belt. She pays bills with a check that’s too small. She avoids conversations about his job with people who just don’t get it. She holds her head up and smiles because she knows her officer is a hero.
His close calls are hers as well. When he’s dealing with riots, pursuits and shots fired, she’s dealing too — grappling with helpless feelings, hateful comments and ignorant citizens. She’s learning to pray, focus on the positive and cherish each day together.
There are many unanswered questions. How many high-speed pursuits will there be? How many threats against life and family? How many near misses on the highway? How many bruises from riots? How many sleepless nights after a fatal? How many therapy sessions from the sheer volume of trauma experienced?
The unseen struggle
Police wives may not wear the badge, but we feel it’s full weight. We pray, hurt, cry and laugh right alongside our men. When they can’t sleep, neither can we. When they need a raise, we feel it most. When they are injured, we care for them. When they are discouraged, we build them up. And when the line of duty takes them forever, it is the wife and family who sit with that grief.
Some wives don’t want to know about their officer’s day, while others are scanner junkies. Some want to be involved; others insist it is “just a job.” But no matter the approach, we all care about our officers, and the thin blue line affects us all.
The thin blue line and us
We wear that line on our wrists, shirts, coffee mugs and hats. It circles our hearts and our children. It makes us feel safe and makes us angry. We hate the division it brings, and we love the community it creates. We defend it, pray over it and examine it fiercely. Some of us avoid it, some of us promote it. Whether we acknowledge it, or ignore it, it remains a constant part of our lives. It touches our schedule, our emotions and our bodies.
Law enforcement reaches its fingers into every corner of the family unit, adjusting holiday schedules, date nights and family dinners. How does a wife explain that her husband ditches his uniform in the garage along with his job? How does she describe a day out with the girls, when her stories can’t match up to the reality of a husband coming home with unspeakable filth on his hands and “Don’t touch me” on his lips? Her coworker’s stories of fun work travel aren’t the right time to mention her husband’s somber trip across the country to honor a fallen officer who was ambushed in cold blood.
How many times does she need to wrap her arms around her silent, hurting husband, to be considered seasoned? How many nights of waiting and wondering if he will come home from a dangerous shift, before her voice is respected? How many years of mental healthcare for the whole family before her words are heard?
We are resilient
Police wives are resilient, creative and resourceful. We know how to make do, make up and get squared away. There is no entry exam for police wives. No standards to pass. No recognition weeks, no free coffee, no discounted shopping. But we have voices. We have stories. And they are valid.
We may not always be heard, and we may be mocked. But we will always be the first and strongest supporters of the thin blue line.
About the author
Kay Schrock is the president of the Wyoming Highway Patrol Family Support Network.
