Remembering...

I've received several emails in the last few days asking me to share my story from September 11, 2001. 

My phone rang about 10 minutes before 9:00 that morning.  It was my aunt.  "Are you watching the news?", she asked.  "A plane has crashed into the World Trade Center in New York."  I hadn't been watching the news.  I had been asleep.  We had a big day planned and were up until 2:00 am that morning.  I flipped on the TV and watched, assuming it was a freak accident.  Somebody was traveling too close the city.  Moments later came the news that a second plane had crashed into the other tower.  I remember exclaiming "That's not an accident!  We're being attacked!"  I woke my hubby, who had already started to stir when the phone rang.  We continued to watch the news unfold. 

Jim Miklaszewski was reporting from the Pentagon.  He said there was a loud noise and the building shook.  Later, we learned it was another plane crashing.  For a while, we sat and watched, dumbfounded by the events.  I don't remember when I heard about the plane crashing down near Shanksville, Pennsylvania.  That part is a blur.  I remember watching smoke and flames shooting out of the twin towers and the Pentagon.  At some point that morning, my Dad called.  He was at home in Florida.  Mom was here, helping us prepare for our big day.  Like so many, he just needed to talk to his family.  I woke Mom to tell her he was on the phone.  Not too long after, the towers fell.  They were saying the death toll could be as high as 100,000 people.  My heart was breaking.  We turned off the TV.  I had to get away from it.  (I'm sure Mom and King J continued to watch elsewhere in the house.)

We both struggled with guilt over not being able to go help.  We were active in EMS at that time, and our squad was asked to send crews to assist.  We couldn't go.  We had to be selfish and stay here.  Guilt.

We prepared for our big day with a heavy heart.  We had been so excited.  It was going to be Princess E's birthday!  What better day could we have chosen for a birthday for her.  Two EMS providers with a daughter born on 9-1-1.  We called my OB for guidance.  I'd been on modified bed rest for a while, trying to hold on until 37 weeks.  Pre-eclampsia threatened to bring her too early.  We were scheduled for induction that day.  Since no one knew what the day would bring, whether hospitals would be attacked too, or if local hospitals would be needed for patients from the crashes, all elective procedures were cancelled.  I was seen by my OB to weigh the risks of waiting another day.  Princess E and I were deemed stable enough to wait another day...but I was instructed to stay away from the TV and radio in the meantime.  I did just that.  We would not have done anything to stop her from coming on her own that day; but we really didn't want to induce that day. 

The next day, labor was induced.  Over the next few days, I caught very little of the news.  King J continued to follow during times I was asleep.  I knew there were memorial services planned for Friday, September 14.  Princess E arrived early that morning.  Exhausted, I slept most of that day, when I wasn't nursing her.  I do remember wanting to attend a memorial service. 

We finally did...a year later, on the first anniversary.  Actually, we attended two of them.  In the morning, there was a service for the community.  That evening, we attended a smaller memorial service at a local church, where people were invited to share their memories of that tragic day.  It was our first visit to that church.  Today, we call it our church home.

Eight years later, my heart still breaks for the families of those lost that day.  I don't want to ever forget.