When I was younger I used to always wonder why people would ask “Where were you when Kennedy died?” I didn’t get what the big deal was. Now when someone asks me “Where were you on 9/11?” I understand perfectly what they were talking about. On 9/11 I was no where near NY. I was living in Pacific Grove, CA with Brian. I was almost 8 months pregnant with Bella. I woke up to kiss Brian goodbye for work and he told me I had better check the news because he saw online that there was news of a terrorist attack.
When I turned on the TV, I first thought a single terrorist flew his own plane into the Twin Towers. Then a realized a regular commercial flight with innocent people on board were made into human bombs. And not just one flight – many of them. I kept thinking that the Twin Tower workers probably never saw it coming but the people on the plane were aware and watching it unfold. I was dumbstruck until all I could do was sob. (Even now its hard to hold back the tears when I think about it.) I don’t think I ever got off the couch that day as I watched and cried. Brian came home and eventually made me turn off the TV so I’d stop thinking about it.
I remember at one point someone told me that it was a shame that I was bringing a baby into a world such as this. For a moment I thought she was right but as I came to my senses I thought – no! This child of mine is a sign of hope! It is a breathe of joy and peace in the midst of evil and darkness.
Two weeks later Bella was born a month premature. (I always wondered if my stress at that time had something to do with it.) Weighing only 3lb, 12 oz she was tiny but had a feisty, fighting spirit and came out fine. My beautiful little Isabella Rose Marie. She was my proof that no matter how troubling things may look or how small and insignificant we may feel, with God, you can find a purpose, a means, and always hope.