Today, I’m taking a moment to share a deeply personal and impactful experience: our encounter with Hurricane Irma a few weeks ago. The word “survived” might seem strong, perhaps even dramatic, especially since we didn’t lose our home, were not clinging to a door against hurricane-force winds, and our roof remained intact. For this, I am profoundly grateful, knowing that so many others faced far greater devastation. Yet, “survived” accurately reflects the raw fear, intense anxiety, and overwhelming sense of vulnerability we experienced. It was, without a doubt, the most terrifying night of my life. This account aims not only to share our journey but also to offer insights and lessons learned about weathering a storm of such magnitude, particularly with two small children in tow.
A History of Storms: Learning from Hurricane Charley’s Fury
Having lived in Florida for two decades, I’ve had my share of hurricane experiences. Each one serves as a stark reminder of nature’s power, but none was as frightening or destructive, prior to Irma, as Hurricane Charley in 2004. Charley was an unpredictable beast that veered sharply towards Orlando just hours before landfall, catching many off guard. I was in college then, and my family and I endured a grueling nine days without electricity. Without a generator, the nights were stifling, and the days were even hotter. While our home suffered minimal structural damage, the aftermath brought another challenge often overlooked by those unfamiliar with hurricanes: the complete loss of all perishable food in our refrigerator and freezer. After a power outage extends beyond 24 hours, you find yourself in a race against time, consuming everything edible before it spoils. The resulting stench on garbage day in a neighborhood that has been without power for days is an unforgettable, nauseating experience. These early encounters instilled in me a deep and enduring respect for hurricane warnings.
Early Preparations: Heeding the Warnings for Hurricane Irma
Armed with the hard-won wisdom from past storms, I took Irma’s impending arrival very seriously. The Monday before the storm was expected to hit, I made a proactive decision: I ordered two cases of bottled water online from Sam’s Club for pick-up. This seemingly simple act proved to be incredibly foresightful. By Tuesday afternoon, the store was a chaotic “zoo.” Lines stretched interminably, and the shelves were utterly bare – no water, no batteries, no essential hurricane supplies were to be found. Grateful for my online order, I was the proud owner of two 40-pack cases of water, an acquisition that drew envious, and at times, “evil eyes” from other customers. It was at this moment that the true gravity of Irma’s threat became undeniably clear. Gas stations began to run dry, and all other hurricane essentials vanished rapidly, as everyone frantically stocked up, bracing for potential months without power or homes. My husband, Jon, initially harbored a degree of skepticism, but I, driven by a deep-seated “just in case” maternal instinct, continued to gather supplies, ensuring our family had every possible provision.
The Storm Descends: A Night of Mounting Anxiety and Tough Decisions
By Sunday, the day Irma made landfall, I was a nervous wreck. The sheer anticipation and uncertainty were overwhelming; a glass of wine at 10 in the morning offered a brief, fleeting escape from my mounting anxiety. As the weather began its rapid deterioration, with winds picking up and rain lashing down, I finally saw the look of worry etched onto Jon’s face. By 8 PM, the storm’s intensity was undeniable. The howling winds and relentless rain pounding against our windows were terrifying, prompting me to move the children into our bedroom, away from the direct assault of the elements. Each shrill tornado warning that vibrated on our cell phones sent me into a restless, anxious pacing. We tried to maintain a sense of calm for the kids; thankfully, the Disney Channel played “The Princess and the Frog,” which kept Ryder, our son, as occupied as possible during what should have been his bedtime. My ears, however, were strained, constantly listening for the terrifying “freight train” sound that signals an approaching tornado, ready to rush us into our innermost closet at a moment’s notice.
Jon, initially engrossed in TV in our family room, eventually heeded my urgent request to switch to the local news, desperate for updates on any rotational activity in our area. After a few particularly violent gusts, he stood and peered out our large sliding glass window. The power flickered with unnerving regularity, and tornado warnings continued to pop up on our cell phones every few minutes. It was then that he finally decided to join us in the bedroom, confirming my worst fear: he had seen the sliding glass door begin to bow inward under the immense pressure of the wind. This door was our biggest vulnerability. While our home is equipped with plantation shutters that would, ideally, contain broken glass from other windows, our sliding glass door stood exposed and unprotected, a gaping potential weakness in our defense.
Our Sanctuary: Building the Closet Fort and Emergency Preparedness
As yet another tornado warning blared on our phones and the power flickered again amidst the relentless howling of the wind, Jon finally grasped the full extent of the danger. He realized that my “crazy antics” – the persistent suggestion of sleeping in our master closet – was, in fact, the safest and most sensible course of action for our family. All week, I had been urging him to help me clear out our master closet, a space that, embarrassingly, still held unpacked boxes from our move two years prior. I instructed him to simply relocate those boxes to our bedroom, thereby creating precious, much-needed floor space within the closet. I then meticulously gathered all the quilts and pillows from every bed, transforming the closet floor into one giant, comforting, makeshift bed – a secure nest in the heart of the storm.
The Indispensable Emergency Kit: A Checklist for Hurricane Preparedness
Our emergency supplies, carefully collected over the preceding days, were now strategically placed. I gathered all our battery-operated candles, our trusty weather radio, and both our RYOBI flashlight and lantern. Crucially, our pre-packed emergency “go bag” was stationed in the bathroom, ready for immediate access should we need to evacuate. This invaluable practice was a lesson imparted by my mother years ago when we weathered Hurricane Bob in the 90s. An essential emergency bag should contain:
- Several changes of clothes for each family member, suitable for various temperatures.
- Essential medications (prescription and over-the-counter) and a comprehensive basic first-aid kit.
- Crucial documents: Birth certificates, social security cards, passports, home insurance paperwork, property deeds, recent utility bills, and contact information for doctors and emergency services. Consider scanning these documents and storing them securely on a cloud service or an external hard drive for digital backup.
- Financials: A small amount of cash, as ATMs and credit card machines may not function without power.
- Portable Electronics: Fully charged power banks for cell phones. My external hard drive, which I had finally updated with complete backups of both my computers. I realized that if I lost my physical devices, at least my entire digital life was secure on that tiny, portable drive.
- Baby & Pet Supplies: A box of diapers, wipes, formula, and any specialized baby food. I had learned from previous disaster relief efforts that organizations often struggle to provide these specific necessities. Similarly, remember pet food, water, and any necessary medications for your furry family members.
- Communication: A hand-crank or battery-operated weather radio for continuous updates.
- Sanitation: Hand sanitizer, wet wipes, and plastic bags for waste.
Jon eventually completed the construction of our “fort,” as our feisty three-year-old, Ryder, affectionately dubbed it. Initially, we kept the closet lights on, but as minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, I suggested we close the door, dim the battery-operated candles, and try to coax Ryder to sleep. Reagan, our baby, fell asleep almost instantly, only to awaken just as Ryder finally drifted off. It was then that the oppressive heat in our enclosed closet began to become unbearable. I asked Jon to crack the closet door slightly to see if the bathroom light was still on. The moment he opened it, an impenetrable darkness met his gaze, confirming our worst fear: the power was out. We were in for a long, silent, and sweltering night.
Reagan cried inconsolably, only settling down when rocked standing up for what felt like an eternity. She eventually succumbed to sleep on top of me, her tiny weight a comforting anchor in the dark. Jon’s rhythmic snoring and Ryder’s peaceful slumber were stark contrasts to my heightened state of vigilance. I remained glued to our weather radio, listening intently to every update, bracing myself each time a colossal gust of rain and wind slammed onto our roof. The initial image of this post captures the claustrophobic yet protective view I had for what felt like endless hours. It wasn’t until past midnight, when the tornado warnings finally subsided, that I felt a slight easing of tension, allowing me to breathe a little more freely. Even though the hurricane had shifted, and I knew its eye was projected to pass directly over Orlando within the hour, I managed to snatch brief, five-to-ten-minute stretches of sleep. Never before had time felt so agonizingly slow; each minute crawled by, stretching into an eternity. Once the core of the storm began to pass over us, I was once again riveted to our radio, awaiting updates and listening for signs of dawn.
Finding Light in the Darkness: Mid-Storm Breaks and Childhood Distractions
As the storm continued its slow, destructive journey, I maintained contact with other family members across Orlando via text messages, our only lifeline to the outside world. Then, an urgent message arrived from my mom: her sewer system was backing up into her house. Given Jon’s profession in municipalities, I knew he could offer valuable advice, but I hesitated to wake him from his much-needed sleep. Eventually, the urgency compelled me, and within minutes of his awakening, both children were also stirred. We spoke with my mom on the phone, offering what guidance we could from our closet sanctuary. During a brief lull, we ventured out of the closet for much-needed bathroom breaks. The blast of surprisingly cold air that met us was puzzling – we debated if a window had shattered somewhere, or if it was simply the last vestiges of our air conditioning lingering. Regardless, our closet had grown incredibly hot and stuffy.
Jon, ever the protector, took a flashlight and cautiously walked around the house, checking for damage. Though his brief absence filled me with nervous apprehension, he returned within a minute, reporting reassuring news: everything appeared intact. Our pool screen remained attached and largely in good shape, no trees had fallen, and critically, none of our windows had broken – a significant relief given my earlier fears. We also took the opportunity to grab some snacks, and then, in a beautiful act of parental improvisation, Jon began telling stories. Ryder, currently obsessed with Halloween and constantly watching spooky videos on Netflix, was delighted when Jon grabbed a battery-operated candle and began with “once upon a time…” The tales of friendly ghosts and mysterious adventures were met with peals of laughter. Ryder, in turn, grabbed his own candle and eagerly started concocting his own “spooky” narratives. The blurry, dark photograph above perfectly captures this 3 AM “break” – a moment of pure, unadulterated childlike joy amidst the chaos. We consciously tried to keep the atmosphere as light as possible, as Ryder didn’t fully grasp the magnitude of the situation, and maintaining a sense of normalcy was paramount for his well-being. Shortly after, we managed to get the children back to sleep, and Jon and I finally succumbed to an hour and a half of much-needed rest, only to be jolted awake by a tremendous gust of wind followed by a deafening bang.
The Aftermath and Lingering Shadows: Recovery and Reflection
Around 7 AM, as the first hints of dawn filtered through, we finally emerged from our closet sanctuary. The winds were still whipping, but the torrential rain and the most severe phase of the storm had passed. Jon and Ryder took our dog, who hadn’t been out in over 12 hours, for a much-anticipated walk, surveying the damage in our cul-de-sac. Fortunately, the immediate area had fared relatively well. With a sense of renewed purpose, we fired up our generator – a true lifeline in those moments – and enjoyed freshly brewed iced coffees, thanks to a brilliant idea from a friend who suggested brewing coffee the night before. The rest of the day was spent cleaning up with neighbors, a testament to community spirit and resilience, and doing our best to stay cool in the oppressive humidity without air conditioning. Our power finally flickered back on that Tuesday evening at 9 PM, bringing with it a wave of immense relief and gratitude that is difficult to describe.
Overall, we consider ourselves incredibly lucky. Our family is safe, our home remains intact, and Hurricane Irma is now receding into a memory, albeit a vivid one that will forever be etched into our minds. However, the experience has left an unexpected and profound mark. Since the hurricane, I’ve found myself grappling with what feels like post-traumatic stress. Even minor thunderstorms now trigger a surge of anxiety, sending my stress levels through the roof. The slightest flicker of power sends a shiver down my spine. Storms, which have always held a certain apprehension for me, now elicit a profound fear that I’m not sure will ever fully dissipate. Yet, writing about this experience has proven to be incredibly healing and therapeutic. It’s a way to process the complex emotions, to reflect on the invaluable lessons learned, and, most importantly, to share our journey with others who may face similar challenges, offering both solace and practical advice.
Beyond Our Story: Support for Hurricane-Affected Communities
While our story is one of relative good fortune and immense gratitude, countless others were not so lucky. Many areas of Florida, and some of my favorite Caribbean islands, were utterly decimated by Irma’s wrath. The images of widespread destruction continue to bring tears to my eyes, serving as a poignant reminder of the fragility of life and property in the face of such powerful natural forces. As we move forward, it is crucial to remember those who are still rebuilding their lives and communities. Please continue to keep all those affected in your thoughts and prayers. If you are able, consider donating to reputable relief organizations or offering support in any way you can. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, contributes significantly to the monumental effort of recovery, rebuilding, and collective healing.