It is now nearly 24 hours since and earthquake measuring 6.5 on the Richter scale shook central New Zealand, including me and my family here in the capital Wellington.
This quake was preceded by two other strong earthquakes, one which shook us awake just after 7am on Sunday morning and the other which caused office workers to dive under their desks on Friday morning. In between times, there have been numerous aftershocks, which have also continued since last night’s quake.
It was terrifying.
Even though I have been in moderately strong earthquakes before both here in New Zealand and also in Japan, seen at a distance the deadly damage wrought by the Canterbury earthquakes, and know that Wellington is built on a series of major faultlines meaning that we can definitely expect a ‘Big One’ at some point in the future, I was not prepared for quite how terrifying the experience would be. Not so much in the moment when you just react - and I think the actions we took could probably do with a little fine-tuning for any future event - but afterwards when you start thinking about what just happened, what is continuing to happen, whether you’re adequately prepared or not, and how you’re supposed to ever calm your racing pulse again.
I think my nearly 3-year old daughter probably coped with this experience better than I did. Even though her heart-rending ‘mummy, mummys’ still ring in my ears, once she was with us and under the table she seemed calm and was even laughing and dancing round the living room as the evening wore on.
I wish I could have been that carefree. Instead, any of the moderate after-shocks I felt made me grab her and head for the table. I was on edge all evening and slept poorly, unable to relax, especially after a strong after-shock around 4am.
My baby, on the other hand, slept, well, like a baby.
It didn’t help that the earthquake struck just after 5pm, as the sun was going down, and the power cut out. The primal fear of the trembling earth was further enhanced by a fear of imminent coldness and darkness. We then had to figure out how we would cope without electric light and heat for the night. Fortunately, the Canterbury earthquakes meant that we had stocked up on torches, candles, matches and even a portable gas stove. Just as we were contemplating baked beans in the living room by torchlight, however, the power came back on. Big thanks to those lines-people who worked had to get the power back on. There’s nothing like warm food, light and heat to jump-start a feeling of normalcy.
It also didn’t help that I’m 29 weeks’ pregnant. I checked with my midwife this morning and could tell she was trying not to be too dismissive when she told me that an earthquake is extremely unlikely to bring on premature labour. Last night, in the dark, my tummy heaving as much as the earth below my feet, it didn’t seem like such a remote possibility. I had visions of either having to try to get to the hospital or trying to have a baby without professional help at home. Neither was doing much to calm my fears.
This morning, though, has brought a little more reassurance. Regular updates from the Wellington Region Emergency Management Office have helped. So have Facebook, email and Twitter feeds (finally starting to see the point of Twitter a little more). It’s not so much the information - though that it is certainly helpful - but also the sense of connection: the reassurance that others are also going through this and that there is still a way to go yet. We checked on our elderly neighbour who lives by herself: she assured us that she was shaken but OK, and we’ll probably check in on her again soon.
Particularly heartwarming have been the messages from Cantabrians who know better than anyone what the impact of large earthquakes can be, both physically and emotionally. Even though the earthquake last night was nowhere as severe as those they experienced - and I have everything crossed that it stays that way - the expressions of support (like this one and this one) have been really helpful and extremely generous.
It has also helped that the aftershocks recorded on Geonet so far today have been barely perceptible, although we have been told to expect aftershocks, some moderate to strong, for several days if not weeks.
When I woke up this morning, I was extremely reluctant to let either my husband or daughter out of my sight. The thought of going into work in the centre of town - which we were mercifully advised not to do - was paralysing. The thought of being separated from either of them, particularly if another big earthquake strikes, was almost impossible to bear. My mind began racing with all the emergency preparedness things we hadn’t quite got round to doing: the emergency water should’ve been changed a few months ago, those large imposing shelves in the living room still weren’t secured to the wall, we had no getaway bag prepared. At the same time, however, the list of normal, everyday activities I had to do was whirling away in my brain: a piece of work with a deadline to finish, the bathroom to be cleaned. I realised trying to process all this along with the actual event of the earthquake and its aftershocks had sent my stress-levels sky-high and nothing I tried to do to calm myself down was helping much (this, when I was wide-awake, some time in the middle of the night).
Getting up this morning, I realised the way to deal with my still wild-eyed stress was to do something rather than just sit (or lie) around feeling anxious. So the water has now been changed, the shelves secured to the wall, a getaway bag prepared, the car filled with petrol, and some cash put aside. All this activity, and checking in with various people, as well as the ground staying comparatively still this morning has helped me relax little by little. My tummy is still churning a bit, but I feel much more confident that the baby-to-be, along with the rest of us, is in little imminent danger.
But, every so often, I catch myself thinking ‘what if’. What if another big earthquake comes? What if the next one is much bigger? What if we are all not at home when it happens? These mental ambushes are almost worse than the earthquake itself.
So I have decided to write this post while my toddler is asleep on the sofa. Marshalling my thoughts to shape some words has helped them not to stray too far into the wild reaches of fear and and ‘what ifs.’
For now, at least.
Kia kaha to all those living in the Wellington and Marlborough regions: let’s do our best to get through this in whatever way we can.
