Amid the darkness, a new light in our lives
On Sept. 11, 2001, this couple became parents for the first time. Twenty years later, they recall a birthday that shook their world
Surprised, scared. Elated, uncertain. Great anticipation, deep-rooted anxiety. It had been less than three months since our wedding vows were uttered and now this thin strip of paper was telling us we had a baby on the way.
Fast forward nine months — a date to be induced was given should labour not happen naturally: Sept. 11, 2001. A date that would have no other meaning to us at that time than the birth of an ordinary couple’s first child.
We were told to wait for a phone call around 7 a.m. that day to confirm that this would indeed be the delivery day. We sat in bed fully dressed, showered and psyched to go by 6:30. The landline was answered before a full ring could complete its shrill roar. A nurse at the other end gave us the green light to make our way to the hospital.
By the time we got there, it was just past 8 a.m. We confidently entered the maternity ward, fully prepared to begin the transition into mother and father. Mom changed into a patient gown and got hooked up to an IV while Dad heard the gut-punching news coming in from New York City.
You know. The first plane. Mom was told to walk around until they were ready to administer the inducing drug. The look on everyone’s faces, no matter where we roamed in the hospital, was one of worrisome confusion. A woman passed us in the hall and said, “Well, at least there’ll be some good coming out of today,” motioning to the obviously enormous belly.
We looked at each other and remembered all those juxtaposing emotions felt at the outset. That surprise, elation and anticipation of the day ahead was being weighed down by fear, uncertainty and anxiety brought on by the tragic news of the attacks. Can we bring a new life into a world seemingly filled with such evil? Maybe our child could stay inside a bit longer, where we could keep them safe.
They were ready to start the inducing. We tried to block the
images in our minds of what was happening in the United States and focus solely on the baby. But, then, Dad left Mom alone in the birthing room across from the nurses’ station. And that’s when the contractions kicked in.
When Dad did re-emerge, coffee in hand, Mom was seething. How could he abandon his partner for even a second? After the epidural, Mom’s jaw relaxed enough for her to ask him where he was. He was in the lounge. Everyone on that floor who wasn’t giving birth was gathered around a single television set, dumbfounded, getting hopelessly lost in the footage of what the entire planet was witnessing.
So we refocused on the baby, until the doctor showed up. She quickly checked on Mom’s progress without a trace of pleasantries and flew off to use the phone at the nurses’ station. She may as well have been sitting next to us as we heard her angst-ridden pleas to her own husband, who was in Chicago. “I don’t care if you have to rent a car. Get back here now!”
Although we should have sympathized more with her concerns, all we could think of was how a distracted medical professional could safely and joyfully welcome this new life into an uncertain world.
By the time of the traditional supper hour, family members
nervously waited outside, clamouring for updates on the expectant mother’s condition — in anticipation of a first grandchild for both sides of the family. The ward was full; babies were being born all around, cries coming from infants and adults alike.
Then an announcement came over the hospital speakers, asking all staff to gather for an emergency meeting. It became eerily silent and we felt very alone again. Rumour was they were meeting about possibly having to take in patients who would be helicoptered in from the World Trade Center aftermath.
The delivery was a mad rush; the hearty sound of our newborn baby girl dissolved all the pain, sorrow, uncertainty and apprehension either of us had been feeling.
She was beautiful. A perfect reminder that there is hope for humanity. It starts with love — a sentiment, an emotion, an expression that comes so easily when you stare into the eyes of a pure and innocent infant.
Right from day one and now 20 years later, she is fiercely adored. We have always clearly remembered where we were on that Sept. 11 and how precious life really is.