It all began when we smooshed inside our neighbor’s house to ride out Hurricane Ian. As the storm raged outside, we sat in an electricity-lacking house with four young kids to entertain. This was my first hurricane experience, and it wasn’t the glamorized adventure the media had portrayed. I envisioned huddling together over a phone screen, anxiously watching the radar as the wind whipped outside. Instead, I fought boredom as I helped the girls string beads, doled out handfuls of veggie chips, and explained why we couldn’t watch a movie for the billionth time. Surviving a hurricane for me meant playing with Magna-Tiles® by flashlight, reading long-winded kid books, and distributing snacks every two minutes. And I realize that I am incredibly fortunate to have had such a boring hurricane experience.
Once the storm subsided, we went home to begin what was, for me, the hardest part of hurricane recovery: parenting without modern comforts. We lacked electricity, phone service, and internet for the next three days. Our world shifted from normal routines to a foreign way of existence. When I needed it most, I no longer had the child-free break that school provided. We cooked meals on the grill, brushed our teeth by flashlight, and slept with battery-powered fans.
On one of those long days, I watched a friend’s 10-month- old so she could help with boat rescues on Sanibel Island. And I found myself despising that while she got to go do exciting work—literally saving people—I held the tedious task of keeping young children occupied and alive.
One morning, while we still didn’t have service at home, my neighbor and I went to the Gulf Coast Town Center parking lot to make phone calls. I hopped into her van, savoring the air conditioning and quiet lack of children.
“How’s it going?” she asked. I vented about how I felt I should be doing more to help our community, how the kids were driving me crazy, and how I wished I could be doing glamorous things like rescuing people and volunteering in homes ruined by flooding.
She shared with me how Hurricane Irma had hit before she had kids. She was able to help rip out drywall in flooded houses and do physical things to help rebuild the community. And now, two kids and one hurricane later, she felt the same way I did—the role of a mother was a lot more monotonous and a little less exciting than volunteering.
At that moment, it hit me. Motherhood is a quiet kind of heroism. A hero is “one who shows great courage, a person admired for achievements and noble qualities.” ¹
Motherhood is full of courageous moments. It begins with the task of giving birth, and yes, that’s a big one. But there are simpler moments of courage, too: the overwhelming anxiety that descends when a new mom realizes she is responsible for keeping a tiny, helpless human alive, or when she leaves her child at daycare for the first time, or the moment her child spikes a high fever and her gut knots.
During Hurricane Ian, plenty of moms exhibited courage as they prepared for the storm and mentally planned out worst- case scenarios and various ways to get through them. For some, it meant packing up their family and evacuating. For others, it meant ensuring they had what they needed to hunker down for the storm and the days to follow.
And achievements? How about the first time she convinced her child to try a bite of broccoli? Or the time she didn’t lose it even though her child threw a monster tantrum under the judgmental eyes in the Target checkout line?
Post-Hurricane Ian achievements include caring for children and putting meals together without electricity, flushing toilets with water reserves, and enduring night routines without a night light or air conditioning. Every one of those is an achievement.
As for noble qualities? I would submit that every selfless act when a mother puts her needs behind those of her children is noble. Things like getting up in the middle of the night for the fiftieth time to reinsert the pacifier, stopping whatever she’s doing to give a “kiss it better,” reading a book for the one- hundredth time because it’s her 3-year-old’s favorite. During Ian, the selflessness of mamas was easy to see; they were the ones coordinating diaper drop-offs at the shelters, sharing fans with those who needed them, and comforting their children when they really needed comfort themselves.
Motherhood is built out of monotonous moments stacked atop each other. When separated, these moments look inconsequential, but all the hours spent matching socks, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and stepping on countless LEGO® bricks add up to a life heroically lived. Motherhood is a selfless life that is less about self-recognition and more about molding the next generation.
Currently, our area has no reported child deaths due to Hurricane Ian which is a testament to all the mamas who served in the most hidden and heroic way.
by Wonder Years Parent Laura Onstot
¹ Merriam-Webster. (n.d.). Hero. In Merriam-Webster.com dictionary. Retrieved October 24, 2022, from https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hero
