Heroines. There is no other word for it. Not one, not two, tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands. The whole family and home is resting on their shoulders and instead of complaining they tell him, the one fighting on the other front, that everything is quiet. They don't tell him about the fears and the difficulty, only about the longing. They have no ranks because there is no rank for juggling between laundry and work, breastfeeding and calming. Between routine and chaos. They are unsung heroes, and if you look towards the neighbor's house, one of them is probably sitting there drinking coffee, at the end of another day of fighting. What a heroine.