When the tornado alarms blared shortly after my two-year-old had settled in for the night, we hesitated. “Should we wake him?” It may seem trivial, but there are two key points to consider: we reside in an urban area of Dallas where severe weather is uncommon, and we are firm believers in maintaining a strict sleep schedule. (This dedication has led us to cut short outings with friends just to ensure our child is in bed on time). However, as I turned to close the shutters, I was greeted by a sight I had only read about: an unsettlingly green sky. “We need to get him.”
My husband swiftly scooped up our toddler, who was now wailing and disoriented from being roused from sleep, and we faced our next dilemma: where should we go? Reports of tornado sightings and winds reaching 140 mph had just come in. Our home is a single-story with no basement and no interior rooms. We ultimately chose to take refuge in our master closet, a space no larger than 3×3 feet, cluttered with shoes and clothes, barely accommodating my thrashing toddler and me. My husband stood just outside the door.
He kept the phone nearby, running on data since the storm had knocked out our power and internet, providing constant updates on the weather situation. At one point, our son paused his crying, and I heard the chilling announcement: “The tornado has been confirmed touching down at Forest and the tollway”—just minutes from our location.
There’s a strange mix of emotions that comes from having everything you cherish within arm’s reach while simultaneously fearing it could all be lost in an instant.
We were fortunate. Our neighbors were fortunate. In many respects, our city was spared from tragedy, as there were no fatalities attributed to the storm. I remind myself of this often. Yet, some friends are dealing with homes stripped of roofs, and one cannot access their van with four car seats because a tree has fallen on it.
Our son’s school was not as lucky. Its windows were shattered. Just a week prior, we had been asked to bring in family photos for the kids to learn about relationships—sister, brother, aunt, grandfather. Those cherished pictures are now scattered across the landscape. Even a week later, the intersection where the school is located remains blocked by downed power lines and debris.
Our son will no longer be reunited with his friends daily. His teachers suddenly find themselves without jobs. The school hopes to rebuild someday, but I dread having to explain to my son that his beloved “new school,” which he had only attended for two months, is no more. “It’s just a bit broken,” we’ve gently said this week, as his grandmother visited to help us search for a new school.
As a parent, my children’s well-being has always been my top priority. Until now, I hadn’t realized I also needed to process this trauma and mourn the loss. The pressure to find a nurturing, safe educational environment for our toddler mid-semester has nearly pushed us to our limits. Perhaps my pregnancy has amplified my emotions, but I know others have felt similarly after going through such experiences.
I understand that many in our city right now are, like my son’s school, “a little broken,” but we are not entirely shattered. We will discover a new school. Our friends will eventually retrieve their van from the damaged garage, and roofs will be repaired. Over time, we will rebuild. What has struck me this week is the incredible resilience of humanity and our capacity to persevere through challenging times. Additionally, during disasters, we often focus on what truly matters: the loved ones we hold dear within our reach.
This article was originally published on November 27, 2019. For more on navigating life’s challenges, check out this post on home insemination.
Summary:
In the aftermath of an F-3 tornado, a pregnant woman reflects on the emotional turmoil of the experience while caring for her toddler. The community faces losses, including damage to homes and schools, but she finds strength in resilience and the importance of family. As they search for a new school, she learns to process her own feelings of trauma amidst the chaos.