When the tornado sirens blared an hour after our two-year-old, Alex, had settled down for the night, we found ourselves at a crossroads. “Should we wake him up?” This may seem trivial, but consider this: we reside in a densely populated area of Dallas, where extreme weather is an anomaly, and we are sticklers for our sleep routine. (We’ve even cut short social outings just to ensure Alex gets his naps on time). As I moved to close our indoor shutters, I glimpsed something I had only encountered in literature: a hauntingly green sky. “We need to get him,” I urged.
My partner, Mark, scooped up our toddler, who immediately erupted into a fit of tears, disoriented from being torn from sleep. Our next dilemma emerged: where to seek shelter? Reports were flashing warnings of tornado sightings and winds peaking at 140 mph. Living in a single-story home with no basement or interior rooms left us with limited options. We settled on cramming ourselves into our master closet: a hilariously undersized 3×3 space stuffed with boots and clothes, barely accommodating my thrashing toddler and me. Mark stood guard outside the closet door.
He kept his phone handy, now relying on data since the storm had knocked out our power and internet, relaying weather updates and predictions about the storm’s trajectory. Amidst our son’s cries, I heard the chilling announcement: “The tornado has been confirmed touching down at Forest and the tollway”—just moments away from our home.
There exists an unsettling balance of emotions, swinging between the comfort of having everything we love within arm’s reach and the dread of losing it all in an instant.
We were fortunate. Our neighbors were spared, and in many respects, our city emerged relatively unscathed, as there were no fatalities attributed to this storm. I continue to remind myself of this fortunate circumstance. However, many of our friends are not so lucky—some have homes stripped of roofs, while others find their vehicles trapped under fallen trees.
Alex’s school was not spared either; its windows were shattered. Just a week prior, we had been asked to supply family photos for a project on relationships: siblings, aunts, grandparents. Those cherished pictures are now strewn across miles of wreckage. Even a week later, the intersection where the school is located remains impassable, littered with downed power lines and debris.
Alex will no longer see his friends daily. His teachers suddenly find themselves without jobs. The school plans to rebuild, but I dread the moment when I have to explain to Alex that his beloved “new school,” which we had all grown to adore, is no more. “It’s a little broken,” we’ve been saying this week as Grandma visits to help us search for a new school.
As a parent, my primary focus has been my children’s well-being. Yet, in the midst of this turmoil, I’ve realized I also need to process this trauma and mourn the loss. The stress of locating a nurturing and safe educational environment for Alex mid-semester, with an urgent start date, has left us on the brink of exhaustion. Perhaps my pregnancy amplifies my emotions, but I know others are feeling the same way.
Many in our city are, like Alex’s school, “a little broken,” but we are not utterly shattered. We will find a new school. Our friends will free their van from the wreckage, and roofs will eventually be fixed. With time, we will rebuild. Throughout this harrowing week, I’ve been struck by the resilience of humanity and our capacity to persevere through adversity. It’s remarkable how crises can sharpen our focus on what truly matters: the loved ones we hold close.
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In summary, despite the chaos and despair that can accompany such disasters, the strength and resilience of community and family will ultimately guide us through. We will adapt, rebuild, and continue to hold our loved ones close.
Keyphrase: Surviving a Tornado While Pregnant
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