Remembering September 11th

From the book, "Memories of Miracles", a story about September 11th:

Chapter 4
Love and Joy from Fear and Terror

The two days could not have been more different, but they are linked in my brain by one simple thing, the date...September 11th.

I would never have imagined the memories of horror and fear of September 11, 2001 could be transformed with those of love and joy a year later, but because of the grace of God and the faith of two young parents, that is exactly what happened.

The morning of September 11, 2001 started much like any other morning. Patty was in labor and even though the baby was five weeks early, things were going well. Patty watched TV as I watched the fetal monitor.

In the quietness of the labor room we listened to the "whoosh, whoosh, whoosh" of Image via Wikipediathe baby's heartbeat and the steady drone of the television program. Suddenly, breaking news reports flashed on the screen. Our eyes were riveted to the screen in horror as planes crashed first into the Twin Towers and then the Pentagon. Later we watched as the Towers collapsed to the ground.

I struggled to keep my thoughts on the fetal tracing in front of me. More than anything I wanted to hear my husband's voice, which never failed to calm and reassure me. Patty was progressing far too rapidly to afford the luxury of a phone call, though

My thoughts flew also to Camp LeJeune, North Carolina. My son was there for the School of Infantry with the USMC. Would they pull them out of training for deployment? Could he already be on a ship to who knows where?

I thought too, of my niece who worked in New York City and of her brother who worked at a law firm near the White House. Were they safe? How would one possibly contact them in all this chaos? I thought of calling my sister, but I knew she would have no information and my concern would only amplify her own.
I didn’t sit idly as these thoughts ran through my mind, but was busy turning on a baby warmer, setting out perineal prep, and preparing warm baby blankets. While my hands and feet moved rapidly to set the final stage for delivery, my mind and heart ached for all those unknown to me whose lives had been shattered by terror.

Then, as if in a daze, we delivered this baby. The joy and happiness, which normally surrounds this event, seemed so inappropriate with the images of horror so fresh in our minds, which were still visible on the television. I found I could not sing "Happy Birthday" to this little one, as I usually did, because I felt anything but happy.

Immediately upon placing the baby on the warm blankets, I realized the mood of the room would not be improving. The baby’s nostrils flared, his chest sunk deeply, the space between his ribs deepened dramatically, and he grunted with each breath.

Preterm babies make a rhythmic, grunting sound when they are struggling to close the tiny air sacs in their lungs. This is because they are using accessory muscles to close those sacs not yet pliable, due to a lack of a substance called surfactant. While parents often think this sound is cute, Labor and Delivery nurses know this grunting is a sign of poor transition of the baby to life outside of the womb. As I listened to this little boy, I watched his retractions continue without improvement. I quickly foot-printed him, applied his identification bracelets and wrapped him up. After a quick kiss from Mom, I took him to the Special Care Nursery, where he stayed for several days.

When I returned to the mother, she said, "I should feel so happy today, but I just feel so sad." She had drawn out the last word until it alone expressed all of our attitudes. I tried to reassure her that her feelings were valid. Not only had she witnessed the brutal murder of thousands of people, but also I had whisked her son out of her presence with hardly a "hello.” Apart from those deliveries where there had been loss of life or severe anomalies, it was the saddest delivery I had ever witnessed. Never will I forget the events of that morning or the cheerless, quiet delivery of the mother with the grief stricken face.

A year later, I was amazed we even had any cases scheduled for 9/11. Who would choose this date for the birth of their baby? What memories would always be associated with this child's birthday? Yet, here they were, pillows and suitcases in hand, ready and anxious to have their baby. They were not strangers to me either; they had been in my six week childbirth classes.

Their class had been my favorite in twenty-one years of childbirth education. It had been a big class and these couples had so bonded with each other and with me, I think if I had let them, they would have continued to meet each Monday night long after the classes had finished. We all laughed together, cried together, and then laughed together again. It was the best teaching I had ever done and the best group of couples I ever had the pleasure to teach.

I was thrilled to be a part of this couple’s special occasion and looking at them; I smiled my first real smile of the day. As I admitted Joan and she settled into bed, she told me many of her family and friends had suggested she change the date of her induction from 9/11. Her response to them changed my outlook for the whole day.
"I thought the best way to thwart the terrorists," she said, "is to bring love and joy and laughter to this date."
What a glorious thought! What a glorious day! This time I sang "Happy Birthday" to their gorgeous little daughter with a heart full of joy.

As September 11 rolls around each year, I remember those lost in the horrible tragedy and those brave fire fighters and police officers who died trying to save them, but I also remember something else. I remember two smiling joyous faces and the daughter they love, destined to bring love and joy out of terror and fear.

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."
Psalm 30:5