Category FIVE. Two of the most frightening words to any Floridian, or anyone living in a coastal area for that matter. Since I grew up on a barrier island in North Carolina, I’ve seen my fair share of storms. My favorite stuffed animal, along with most of my other worldly belongings, were ruined by the floodwaters of Hurricane Gloria in 1985. There were many other times that I saw the tide wash over my homeland (presently they are dealing with flooding from Hurricane Jose), and the year of my college graduation I experienced the devastating effects of hurricanes Charley, Frances and Jeanne here in Florida.
But this time, with monster-sized Hurricane Irma out in the Atlantic, I was starting to get nervous.
Two weeks ago I first began hearing about this storm. That’s the time we Floridians typically start making sure our gas tanks are always full and we have at least a thousand or so bottles of water in our houses. We start checking the National Hurricane Center’s website every 3 hours for the latest advisories. And we begin praying and hoping that storm out into the Atlantic, away from all land and people! However, in the midst of all this “normal” pre-hurricane activity, this time I was also supposed to continue feeding, teaching, and caring for our four young daughters whilst trying not to freak them out.
They heard little snippets of conversations I had with my husband, but I really did my best to hold in my anxieties.
Throughout those two weeks, I was preparing physically, but mentally and emotionally I was draining all my mommy-resources. Looking back, I realize that coffee with cream started to replace my usually well-balanced meals and I was running on fumes. My children could tell I was tense, but I didn’t want to tell them WHY. I just felt the adrenaline keep pushing me to DO, DO, DO and we’ll survive.
That storm was HUGE and honestly, it felt like nowhere on our peninsular state would be safe!
The morning the authorities began evacuating the Florida Keys, I made the decision to high-tail it out. I woke up at 4:30 AM and for the first time in their lives, I was the one who woke up my kids! (I did feel a little sense of retribution as I did so, too.) Breakfast was quick and we got on the Turnpike before the mass exodus began. We went to the northern central part of the state and again I made sure we had water and enough non-perishable food to last us a couple weeks.
I kept imaging my picky preschooler eating nothing but peanut butter crackers for weeks, but at least she’d survive.
Suddenly Irma looked like she was going for the other coast instead. Palm Beach County was hardly in the “cone of error” at all. But of course, Hurricane Irma was larger than any other hurricane I’ve ever seen, so I knew we weren’t out of the woods yet. And now it looked like she was coming straight toward my family who live in Southwest Florida. My husband and I were talking about this new information while I tried to hold myself together and wash the dishes, but it was ALL TOO MUCH.
Too much stress. Too much preparing. Too much holding it all in. The tears began to flow and I ran to my closet.
Finally, I let myself release all that pent-up tension. I sobbed for a good 15 minutes straight, not only for myself and my family, but for all the families who I knew would be affected by this storm and for the countless families in Texas who were still reeling from Hurricane Harvey. There were other little girls and boys who had already lost their favorite stuffed animals to floodwaters. I kept seeing their sad little faces. Finally and suddenly, I felt my body go still.
An overwhelming sense of serenity filled my soul, and I came out to my family a new mom.
Later that day we decided to head back to Palm Beach County. The bumper-to-bumper traffic was gone and now going south on the Turnpike was only me and the many, many linemen who had come from all over the country to help out. I felt like screaming THANK YOU out my window every time I passed one. I knew we could be facing life without electricity for days or weeks and just seeing the number of them made me feel so filled with gratitude that I started tearing up. So for those of you who sent your husbands over our way, I wish I could just hug your neck! Thank you ladies for your sacrifices on our behalf as well!
My family from Southwest Florida evacuated to us and we all hunkered down in our home. Thankfully, our daughters were very excited and distracted to have some of their extended family there, so that was a big sigh of relief for me. My mother and my sister were great and helping entertain the girls while my husband and I tried to keep the kitchen going for meals. Once we lost power, it became very quiet in the house. All the electronic devices were stilled, and we began to really hear the winds outside. I pulled out my guitar and realized I still remember a few chords. Our toddler was amazed as I strummed those long-forgotten strings.
It became oddly peaceful as the winds died down; that night, however, was another story.
Although I was relatively cool sleeping near an open window, I was restless worrying if our daughters were too warm. I kept going in and checking on them, placing cool washcloths on their foreheads and giving them cold water from the bottles we had frozen. As the sun came up, I watched it with awe. How often am I distracted by all the technology around me that I only glance as this majestic beauty? How often do I fail to look into my daughters’ eyes as they tell me a story because I’m too busy? How many times have I neglected to give my husband my full attention because I’m DOING, DOING, DOING?
This storm taught me many things about myself, but most importantly:
- As moms, we simply cannot neglect taking care of ourselves in our pursuit of caring for others. There are seasons when more responsibilities are placed on us, but we also need to have time to be honest and vulnerable with ourselves and loved ones.
- Secondly, I MUST have times that I put away all the technology and to-do lists and spend some real quality time with my family and friends. The time we have with each other is too precious to squander away with cleaning the floor constantly or checking Facebook with each ding of my iPhone. The people in my life need to know they are more important than all these other things, and I’ve begun peeling myself away from my kitchen to sit down and literally just sit. That’s it. And it feels good, and weird, but still good. And I intend to keep it up!
