On November 13, while I was 29 weeks pregnant, I embarked on my first solo international flight to Paris to meet my husband, who was there for business. We planned a brief getaway to enjoy some quality time before our baby arrived. Our day was filled with delicious crepes, delightful macaroons, and the beauty of the city.
That evening, as we debated which dessert to indulge in, my phone buzzed with an alarming Facebook notification. A friend had tagged me in a post about a shooting in Paris. Confused, I opened the article, confirming that we were safe before sharing the news with my husband. Initially, we felt uneasy, but we thought it might be an isolated incident. Unfortunately, it was not.
By the time we returned to our hotel, our phones were flooded with texts and messages from worried family members. News reports revealed a series of attacks, and the casualty count continued to rise. To reassure everyone, we posted on Facebook, assuring them we were safe, or as safe as one could be. We stayed up late, glued to the news, feeling a sense of security—at least for the moment.
However, once the TV was off and darkness enveloped the room, fear began to creep in. In the stillness of the night, my worries grew louder. I wept, fearing I might never see my family again or meet our son. I felt heartbreak for those who weren’t as fortunate as we were. My husband held me tightly, voicing his own fears but striving to comfort me. In that moment, our love for each other and our unborn child felt more profound than ever.
The following day, we largely remained in our hotel, grappling with the tragedy that had unfolded. I read countless articles in search of answers, though I found none regarding the senseless violence. Yet, amidst the despair, I discovered Paris’s resilient motto: “Fluctuat nec mergitur,” which translates to “tossed but not sunk.” As we ventured out for food, we observed a somber yet defiant atmosphere. Parisians filled the cafes, browsed open shops, and roamed the streets, displaying kindness and warmth—possibly even more so than before.
By day’s end, one thing became clear: Parisians embodied their motto. Through personal interactions and countless stories of bravery, it was evident that this city was unyielding and strong.
When our son is old enough, I hope to impart the lessons from this harrowing experience. We witnessed tragedy but also a profound sense of gratitude for each other and our family. We interacted with individuals whose lives had been forever altered, yet they remained unbreakable. Kindness and solidarity prevailed throughout the city. While I can’t shield my son from the realities of hate and tragedy, I aspire to teach him to seek out the goodness in humanity and to become a force for good himself. I hope he embodies Paris’s spirit. When life throws him into turbulent waters, he will not sink; he will fight. He will be strong. He will not be broken.
Experiencing that day has altered my life forever, making me acutely aware of the uncertainty that exists, especially for those who face similar fears daily, even in their own homes. This tragedy is only one of many occurring globally. I refuse to take my safety and freedom for granted and intend to instill this value in my son as well. From now on, I plan to live in a way that reflects the essence of Paris’s motto: I will not sink.
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Summary: This article reflects on a pregnant woman’s experience in Paris during the tragic attacks of November 13. It illustrates her emotional journey, the love and resilience displayed by the Parisians, and her hopes for imparting these lessons of strength and kindness to her unborn son.