I've been waiting for Hurricane Irene for 12 years.
In 1999 I was a young reporter here. I also had a 2-year old daughter and a very big secret. Hurricane Floyd was bearing down on the North Carolina Coast and our staff was mobilizing for wall-to-wall coverage. To you, that means continuous coverage. To us, that means cancel everything. You're working the weekend. My boss asked me if I wanted to go.
I was numb. I called my mom. Mom, this is the big one. They want to send me.
Do they know you're pregnant with twins?
No, mom, they don't.
I hung up on her. Went to Plan B. I called my doctor.
We strongly advise against it.
I hung up on them too, and defeated, told my boss I couldn't work it out.
Then, I went into the women's bathroom, locked myself in a stall and cried. Really. I cried. I cried because I was missing the BIG STORY.
They ended up sending the skinniest reporter on our staff. It was great TV. That girl was blowing all over the TV screen. At one point, the wind gusts were so strong, I thought she was going to blow clear into another TV market. I couldn't take my eyes off the screen.
Months later, I gave birth to twins. There were many more hurricanes over the years, but I never asked to go. By that time my oldest daughter knew the dangers of hurricanes. Every time a big storm threatened our coast, she would cry and beg me not to go. After a while, I even stopped watching wall-to-wall coverage. There were beds to make, carpools to drive, and play dates to organize.
I began to realize the real reason I cried in the bathroom stall that day. It wasn't because I was missing the big story. I cried because I was beginning to understand the sacrifices we make as mothers. The things we give up. The big story. The fat paycheck. Sleep. Dinner parties. Time alone. The best part of the filet. We give up peace of mind, lazy weekends and our favorite earrings. There isn't a mom out there who hasn't had to decide me or them?
Now, 12 years later I'm here in Morehead City covering Hurricane Irene. They're calling it one of the biggest storms of the century. Ironically, when I told my oldest texter I was going, she hugged me. Mom...really? They're sending you? How exciting. My son gave me a knuckle bump and said Go get 'em Alpha Mom. My youngest daughter asked me if I got her four composition books and drawing paper she needed for school. Apparently, while I was driving into the pulse of Irene, my husband and kids went to their favorite Mexican restaurant for dinner. Forget You!
But Wednesday night, in one of the lousiest motels on the Crystal Coast, I slept. I really slept. The time is now. Irene is bearing down. Sure, the name has changed. But the story is still the same.
