On November 13, while I was 29 weeks pregnant, I embarked on my first solo international flight to Paris to join my husband, who was there on a business trip. We planned a brief getaway to enjoy our last moments before our baby’s arrival. Our day was filled with delight as we explored the city, indulging in crepes and macarons, and soaking in the beautiful sights.
However, during a late dinner, my phone buzzed with a notification: someone had tagged me in a post expressing concern for my safety. Confused, I clicked on the link and learned about a shooting incident in Paris. I assured my husband that we were fine, dismissing it as a minor occurrence. Yet, as news unfolded, it became clear that this was no isolated event.
By the time we returned to our hotel, our phones were flooded with messages. We struggled to notify our families that we were safe, even as the scope of the tragedy became apparent. It was not just one attack; multiple incidents had occurred, and the casualty numbers continued to rise. To reassure everyone, we posted an update on social media confirming our safety, but anxiety began to creep in as we stayed glued to the news until the early hours of the morning.
Once the TV was off, fear engulfed me. I wept over the uncertainty of seeing our family again and the thought of not meeting our soon-to-arrive son. I mourned for those who were suffering, who were not as fortunate as we were. My husband held me tightly, sharing in my fears while trying to comfort me. In that moment, our love for each other and our unborn child felt more profound than ever.
The following day, we mostly remained in our hotel room, horrified by the lives lost and forever altered. I spent hours reading articles, seeking answers for the senseless violence. While there were no clear explanations, I discovered Paris’s motto: “Fluctuat nec mergitur,” translating to “tossed but not sunk.” As we ventured out for meals, we observed a somber yet defiant atmosphere; Parisians continued to gather in cafes and visit shops, exhibiting resilience and kindness.
By day’s end, it became evident how deeply the spirit of Paris resonated with its motto. Through our interactions and the stories of those who bravely helped others, we recognized the strength and unity within the city.
When our son is old enough, I hope to impart the lessons learned from that harrowing weekend. We witnessed tragedy but also an overwhelming sense of gratitude for each other and our family. We encountered individuals whose lives had been irrevocably changed, yet they embodied resilience and compassion. Although I cannot shield my son from the harsh realities of life, I aspire to teach him to recognize the goodness among the chaos. I want him to be a beacon of hope and kindness, perhaps even embodying the spirit of Paris’s motto. When life challenges him, I want him to remain steadfast and resilient.
My life has been permanently affected by that day and the uncertainty we faced in an unfamiliar place. Many individuals confront this fear daily, even in their homes. This incident is just one example of the countless tragedies occurring worldwide. I aim to instill in my son a deep appreciation for safety and freedom, as well as the resolve to stand against adversity, emulating the spirit of Paris. I will not let fear consume me; I will strive to be unyielding.
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In summary, my experience in Paris during a time of crisis profoundly shaped my perspective on love, resilience, and the importance of kindness. As I prepare to raise my son, I hope to instill in him the values of strength and compassion, encouraging him to navigate life’s challenges with an unwavering spirit.