Last night, I was able to see a friend that I hadn't seen in a while. She's also a Cop's Wife. Her husband is an ESU Responder. For those of you outside of the Tri-State area: that's another term for SWAT. I know that the NYPD as well as other municipalities in New York State will often refer to their SWAT Team as the Emergency Services Unit, unlike other parts of the country.
Anyway: we didn't do much. We got together to walk our dogs and catch up, then sat on my deck for a while and ate cheese and crackers. Not a hot date by any stretch of the imagination, but here's what was so very nice for me...and I'd like to think for both of us...I didn't have to explain myself to her. She didn't need to explain herself to me. We spoke the same language. We were able to talk about things like how when they don't get enough sleep, the husbands can be cranky and nasty. We bitched about late arrests. She talked about juggling his schedule, her own needs, and childcare. I took notes.
For a long moment, it was really nice to just "get it." Sometimes I tire over having to explain to someone why "it" just doesn't work that way; even now, about to give birth, I feel as if I am constantly explaining myself to nosy people as to why I elected to have a scheduled C-section.
Newsflash: It's because I want to ensure that my husband will be there.
In our world, there is no other way.