My son was 6 months old in September of 2001. A long wished for pregnancy that finally came to be and despite the odds against us - a perfect little boy joined my family.
I was working nights then. My husband and I couldn't afford daycare, so I stayed home with our son during the day, and I worked evenings and weekends. For several years, my husband and I didn't see each other much.
September 11, 2001, I was walking through the living room with my son in my arms when something on the tv caught my attention. I stopped. I watched. I called my husband. I cried.
I remember sitting on the couch, watching the tv. Holding my son in my arms. He slept, he woke. I fed him. We didn't move from in front of the tv for hours. I remember hearing the sorties flying overhead. F-18s cruised the skies over DC.
By September 12th, the magnitude of the attacks was clear.
Later on that day, I looked down into the face of that beautiful sleeping child and I remember being profoundly thankful - perhaps for the first time in my life. Thankful for my family, my safety, my freedom.
Now, my sleeping baby is a rambunctious, gifted 10 year old. My thankfulness remains.
I know now September 11th is not about the attacks. September 11th is about September 12th.
Life after the attacks. Coping with the sudden and swift change to our world view. Learning from mistakes and moving forward in a positive direction. Our complacency as a nation was exposed, and we closed ranks. Being reminded that soldiers, civil servants, the Government - they work for us. They didn't show just remarkable heroism: they did their jobs - the jobs they had quietly sworn to do - and for which we the civilian public had lost sight of. We were reminded.
Once again, love of country and pride was in the forefront - as it should be.
Bless the people who lost their lives on September 11, 2001.
