On 9/11/2001 I was in an east bay hospital trying very hard to keep my first child from escaping my uterus prematurely.
I had checked into the hospital at midnight, because it was the first day of the 24th week of my high-risk pregnancy; there was a very high risk of her coming early. Because miraculously we hadn’t yet lost her despite several scares, I had told my doctor I would be showing up at the hospital at midnight to be admitted on the first day of fetal viability.
After a fitful night of sleep, probably 3 to 4 hours total, I woke up, turned on the television, and that’s when I saw the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center taking place. Completely in shock still, when the Pentagon was hit, I couldn’t stand it any more. Though it was only 6 something in the morning I had to call my husband. The images I was watching on TV were straight from a Tom Clancy novel and I was completely in shock.
My mother had flown down to California the day before to provide moral support to me during a very difficult and emotional time. At my bedside later that day watching the horrific images, she kept telling me I should turn the TV off because watching this was not good for me. On strict bed rest in the hospital, I had few choices for passing the time. I watched obsessively for hours and hours- nothing else was on TV. Bless my mommy’s heart-she and my hubby bought crocheting supplies later. 9/11 was the day I learned to crochet! Beginning that day, my mother and I made many beautiful baby clothes and blankets that all of my children have enjoyed (and enjoy still by dressing dolls in these same precious items.)
Luckily for all of us and for my daughter, who will celebrate her 10th birthday this month, she was not born that day. She stayed inside her mommy for another 10 days, the 10 days that proved to be the difference between life and death for her.