Tuesday, August 13, 2002
Heather: Hey, twice in a row! is this some kind of record or what?
I'm blogging now, about a month early, about September 11. I don't think about it much because I so quickly start thinking of all of the innocent people who died, seemingly without purpose. After the first plane hit, how many people listened to the announcement to go back to their desks? How many of them could have gotten out?
I think of Lisa Beamer, a mom who lost her brave husband. I can easily picture Dale, or my brother, or his, doing something like that. I think of her daughter Morgan who will never be held by her daddy who gave his life for an unknown number of people he probably never met.
Madeleine was 5 days old when it happened. She was in her bassinet; I was in bed. Dale called and told me about the three planes; before we got off the phone he told me he was on his way home. I never really had a chance to worry even though it took him so long to make the commute. I called his parents and left a message that he was okay and on his way home; he left a message once he arrived. All I wanted to do during that hour or so was hold her, possibly so close I could put her back inside (hey, she was still little). When Dale got home, I knew he'd want to hold her so I handed her over.
He talked with his dad that afternoon, but I made sure he called back and talked with his mom that evening. I knew I'd want to hear from my own children. I was so proud of myself--a mom for only 5 days and I knew how to reassure another. We have a picture taken that evening while he was on the phone with his mom.
I can look at Madeleine and not automatically think about it because she's changed so. A friend reassured me this would happen; their daughter was born the day of the Columbine shootings. I found myself a basket case ("disastered out" is what I called it) by the 14th and I called her in tears. She was right, thank God.
But when I think about the events of September 11, I remember how tiny and vulnerable she was, how helpless it made me feel thinking how little I could do to protect her from evil such as that. Did the WTC have a child care center like the Murrah building in Oklahoma City? Did all of those babies get out?
As I said, I can't think about it much.
I'm blogging now, about a month early, about September 11. I don't think about it much because I so quickly start thinking of all of the innocent people who died, seemingly without purpose. After the first plane hit, how many people listened to the announcement to go back to their desks? How many of them could have gotten out?
I think of Lisa Beamer, a mom who lost her brave husband. I can easily picture Dale, or my brother, or his, doing something like that. I think of her daughter Morgan who will never be held by her daddy who gave his life for an unknown number of people he probably never met.
Madeleine was 5 days old when it happened. She was in her bassinet; I was in bed. Dale called and told me about the three planes; before we got off the phone he told me he was on his way home. I never really had a chance to worry even though it took him so long to make the commute. I called his parents and left a message that he was okay and on his way home; he left a message once he arrived. All I wanted to do during that hour or so was hold her, possibly so close I could put her back inside (hey, she was still little). When Dale got home, I knew he'd want to hold her so I handed her over.
He talked with his dad that afternoon, but I made sure he called back and talked with his mom that evening. I knew I'd want to hear from my own children. I was so proud of myself--a mom for only 5 days and I knew how to reassure another. We have a picture taken that evening while he was on the phone with his mom.
I can look at Madeleine and not automatically think about it because she's changed so. A friend reassured me this would happen; their daughter was born the day of the Columbine shootings. I found myself a basket case ("disastered out" is what I called it) by the 14th and I called her in tears. She was right, thank God.
But when I think about the events of September 11, I remember how tiny and vulnerable she was, how helpless it made me feel thinking how little I could do to protect her from evil such as that. Did the WTC have a child care center like the Murrah building in Oklahoma City? Did all of those babies get out?
As I said, I can't think about it much.
