I'm pretty certain most people remember where they were, what they were doing, when the planes hit and the towers fell. I'm certainly one of them.
Even as I was watching one of those shows in the History channel, it all seemed so surreal, almost as if watching a movie with a horrible ending. If I hadn't been alive when it happened, I'd probably wonder if it truly happened.
I was 38 wks pregnant with my first child. I had preeclampsia and the doctor was going to induce so I was on my way to my last office appointment. My legs were twice their size and so were my hands, and I could no longer sleep because I could not get comfortable.
The fact I was bringing a child into this world was terrifying in itself. Millions of questions raced through my mind : What if I mess up? What if I don't know how to take care of a baby? Will I ever sleep for 8 uninterrupted hours?
We got the call from mother in law about the planes, so we knew something was happening by the time we arrived at the doctor's office. Perhaps we were too self absorbed, but none of that seemed important enough, we just wanted to make sure that kid was going to be ok and that I would be around to watch her grow up.
I sat the rest of the day on the couch, at home, watching the news unfold, and wondering what kind of world I was bringing this child into. And worrying about whether I had enough diapers, clothes, bottles and all other gadgets I thought I would need.
When people talk about the events of Sept 11 and get emotional about it, I feel bad because it was one of the happiest times of my life. The anticipation of finally meeting my first child, my little girl, the excitement of finally seeing her face overshadowed anything else that happened that day.
My heart aches for the families of those who lost their lives that day. But when I look in my daughter's eyes, I know there is goodness, hope, and love still in this world.
