What It’s Really Like to Be Married to a CAL FIRE Firefighter
17 seasons in, we’ve learned how to bend without breaking. This life has stretched us. but it’s also shaped us.
Some days, it feels like we’re carrying a second, invisible backpack everywhere we go.
It’s the weight of the shift schedule, the evacuation notices, the missed phone calls, the birthdays and baseball games spent glancing at the door, just in case.
It’s the mental load of remembering every meal, every meeting, and every medication while still saving space in your chest for hope, patience, and love.
It’s the quiet calculation behind every plan:
“Will he be home by then?”
“Will I be able to do this alone if I have to?”
”Will he be able to be here for the kids if I go do XYZ in {insert destination here } for a week?”
It’s the exhaustion that doesn’t come from lack of sleep but from holding it all together tightly, because you know if you let go, even for a minute, it might all fall apart.
No one claps for it. Most people never even notice it.
But here’s the truth:
It matters. It matters because it’s built from a kind of love most people will never understand, the kind that stays, that bends, that holds the line when everything else feels uncertain.
If you’re carrying that invisible weight today, you’re not alone here.
You’re seen.
You’re honored.
You’re stronger than anyone realizes.
And you don’t have to carry it all by yourself.
Life as a CAL FIRE Wife Isn’t Just Hard. It’s Heavy.
Being married to a CAL FIRE firefighter means learning to live in the in-between. In between deployments. In between strike teams. In between the text that says “I’m safe” and the next one that doesn’t come through for hours.
The unpredictability becomes the only predictable thing.
You learn to hold space for plans that might never happen. You celebrate solo, cry solo, troubleshoot broken appliances solo.
You learn how to hold hope and prepare for disappointment in the same breath.
That doesn’t make you negative. It makes you prepared. That doesn’t make you cold. It makes you human.
So plan the dinner. Take the trip. Celebrate the birthday.
Joy isn’t selfish—it’s what keeps you whole.
The Loneliness No One Talks About
Sometimes the hardest part isn’t when they’re gone, it’s when they come home and feel far away.
They’re tired. Quiet. Processing things you’ll never fully know. And you’ve been carrying it all, without a hand to hold, without a break.
You’ve changed. They’ve changed. And now you’re both trying to find your way back to each other through the fog of fatigue and unspoken tension. That’s where so many of us get stuck, living parallel lives under the same roof.
What helps? Making time for conversations that aren’t about logistics.
Even ten minutes to just talk, laugh, or sit next to each other without a to-do list between you.
You don’t rebuild connection in grand gestures.
You do it in small, intentional moments. Over and over.
What I Wish Other People Knew
People love to say how strong we are. And yes, we are.
But that strength is often born from necessity, not choice.
It’s not glamorous. It’s not tidy. It’s not always proud.
We’re the ones adjusting everything behind the scenes, again and again, to make it work.
We show up when we’re stretched thin. We figure it out when plans fall through. We carry what needs to be carried, whether or not anyone sees it.
We don’t do it to be heroes. We do it because we love someone who loves the job.
And we’re building a life around both. That’s not weakness. That’s power. Quiet, steady, and absolutely real.
To the Fire Wives Carrying the Unseen Weight
This life isn’t easy. It’s not supposed to be.
But it can be meaningful. And beautiful. And messy. And deeply, deeply worth it.
So if you’re tired, be tired and rest.
If you’re frustrated, feel it, name it, and take a deep cleansing breath.
But don’t ever think you’re alone.
You’re not just surviving this season. You’re shaping something that will outlast it.
You’re doing better than you think. And you don’t have to prove a thing.