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What’s it like being a police wife?

I’m asked this often, and it’s not an easy answer to articulate

By Melissa Littles

I was recently asked, “What’s it like being a police wife?” Being an author and advocate on the subject of law enforcement, it’s a question I’ve been asked quite often.

My husband is a seventeen-year, veteran patrol officer. He’s an “old school” cop, one who takes the stance of “stupidity and haters equal job security” and “when God calls your number, he calls your number.” He isn’t a talker, and he isn’t one to share all the details. He speaks in body language without saying a word. Some nights upon returning home, he doesn’t make it past his leather chair in our bedroom. He strips down to his under armor, pants held up by his Velcro. Boots still on, he rests his head in his hands, rubbing his bald head. Other times he will enter the house and immediately turn the shower on. Again, there’s no conversation needed. The steam of scalding water washing over the bathroom mirrors like a fog tells me there’s either pain trying to be eased or death trying to be erased.

One night, my non-talkative LEO crawled into bed and wrapped himself completely around me, holding me so tight I wondered who felt more? Did he feel more vulnerable letting his guard down, or did I feel selfishly safer having him courtesy: Melissa Littlesthere protecting me, even knowing his bear hug was due to a bad night? His next question answered it for us both... As he held me, he asked me, sincerely wondering, “Why do you love me so much?”

I told him the simple truth, “I love you for who you are, I love you so much more to make up for all of those who hate you.” Just like that, any pettiness or anger or frustration with current events was erased. At the end of the day, when it’s just the two of you, you are left with what comprises your love for one another.

Being a police wife to me, in today’s society, means being the biggest advocate and supporter I can be in order to give him the encouragement and strength to fight his way back home, alive.

Now don’t let all that mush and gush leave you rolling your eyes at the naive police wife. I am well aware of the ugly truth of some police marriages. I was once married to an abusive cop and former marine. I also spent twenty-three years working high-conflict family law. So let’s get it straight, I know there’s an abundance of dysfunctional marriages out there.

One thing I have learned about being a police wife is that it’s never “you get what you give”. It’s “you give and you give and you give what is needed.” My needs might be on hold for weeks. I can get furious, I can take it out on my husband, I can give him the cold shoulder, I can harbor resentment...or I can be honest with myself and ask myself if any of it was within his control to change. Am I mad at the drunk, or my LEO? Am I mad at the teenager who committed suicide five minutes before my husband called 10-7, or am I mad at my husband five hours later when he crawls through the door? My husband took an oath to answer the call. Period. He doesn’t make the calls; he answers them. Do I honestly, truly believe my husband wants to be out on a frozen highway, two hours after his ten-hour shift ended, searching for a teenager’s left hand which was ripped off in an accident, or do I think my husband wishes he was home to eat that steak and drink that beer that were ready hours ago?

What’s it like being a police wife? It is worry that you learn to push aside. It’s forced independence. It is strength you never knew you had. It is resourcefulness. It’s being an expert with power tools. It’s being the queen of the kid shuffle. It’s people thinking you’re a single mom. It’s lonely nights. It’s holidays not on the actual holiday. It’s waxing things and wearing things that go unnoticed. It’s call-outs in the middle of the night...in the middle of “things.” It’s cold dinners. It’s putting your kids to bed alone. It’s avoiding felons in grocery stores. It’s always making sure there’s a seat facing the door. It’s backing your car into every space, every time. It’s your spouse saying, “Does this shirt make my gun look fat?” It’s explaining to your young child why kids at school call their mommy or daddy a PIG.

It’s also looking into the eyes of someone who took an oath to make a difference. It’s letting your LEO know you still believe in them when so many don’t. It’s supporting the ones who are hated and judged by the actions of others. It’s knowing when to press to see if they’re alright and knowing when to let them work through the monsters alone. It’s the hand on their chest when they silently sob in the middle of the night, and never mentioning it again. It’s making sure they know you’ve got their six, always. It’s being their true north, the place they fight to return to, the one and only place where they can breathe. It’s the sigh of relief at the sound of Velcro.

Being a police spouse is perspective. It’s whatever it means to you. For me...it’s pride. After all these years, after all the hate, after all the headlines, I know his heart. For me, I’ve never been prouder to be the wife of a police officer, and with everything I have, I promise to make sure he knows that too.

Uniform Stories features a variety of contributors. These sources are experts and educators within their profession. Uniform Stories covers an array of subjects like field stories, entertaining anecdotes, and expert opinions.
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