I Can Do Hard Things

If you reside in Texas, you most likely first-hand grappled with the winter storm we had the week of February 15, 2021. If you don’t reside in Texas, you probably heard about the struggles we faced. Dangerous cold. Loss of power. Loss of water.

A surreal experience it was to live through a natural (and unnatural) disaster displayed as the top story on national news. That week was a slow, terrifying spiral downward to the bottom of basic human needs. The snow came first. Calm, quiet, beautiful. Then, the power went out and never came back on in my house. Rolling blackouts my ass. 

At first, we kept the kids busy with games and books. We added layers of clothing and accessories, all the while my brain kept thinking about the dropping temperature inside the house, the bitter, dangerous cold slowly taking over our cozy home.

We have a gas stove which meant I could still cook for everyone and we could have hot meals. What a luxury. While thankful to still be able to provide warm food to nourish our bodies, I worried how long our food supplies would last and how long the food in the fridge would remain safe enough to eat. I worried about my toddler who did not understand what in the world was happening or why. How much longer am I going to be able to get him to eat all of this atypical food?

We made it to toddler naptime that first day where I decided to have him nap with me in the guest bedroom. This is a naturally warmer room with a tiny bed, perfectly sized for cuddling up with my little guy. (He has not napped with me since he was an infant; so I experienced anxiety around him not being able to fall asleep and the fallout a no-nap-toddler can bring.) As I snuggled in bed with him, layer upon layer of clothing on our bodies under layer upon layer of blankets above us, he whispered to me, “Mommy, why’s it so cold in here?” My heart. He did eventually fall asleep and nap while I lie awake, worrying about how cold it would get and how long we could last in it.

After dinner that night, we made the decision to pack up and go to my mom’s house. She never lost power or water. That night, I slept in the same bed, again, as my toddler, while our older daughter slept on an air mattress in the same room. My husband slept in the adjoining room because four would’ve definitely been in a crowd in that tiny room. Our son has never slept a night anywhere other than in his bed and in his room, so I didn’t want to leave him alone in that hard new thing (or alone with his sister to play all night instead of sleep). Never in my life have I been more thankful for a warm bed and warm feet.

We stayed at my mother’s for several days while Facebook kept us apprised of the goings-on in our neighborhood and on our street. We woke up one morning to posts that power had been restored, for how long we did not know. My husband and I decided to attempt driving home to see if the roads were passable before packing everything and everyone up only to discover we needed to continue to stay at my mom’s. We shoveled her driveway and ventured out, hoping we could make it back to our house safely, and then back to my mom’s to retrieve our kids and the belongings we haphazardly brought with us.

The roads were indeed passable. So, we went home. We had heat. We had some food. We had running water that we had to boil, but we had water. We began the journey back up the spiral towards the conditions to which we were accustomed.

I can do hard things. Of this I was not always certain. But now I know. We kept our kids and ourselves safe, warm, fed, alive. I can do hard things.