Grace was 3 months old on September 11, 2001. I had taken her down to my parent's house in New Jersey, while my husband stayed home for work.
My parents had woken early that morning and gone to the gym. My post-pregnancy body only craved sleep, so the gym wasn't an option for me.
Grace was in a routine where she'd wake at 6am, nurse, then be back to sleep by 7am. So, I would wake at 6, feed her, and go back to sleep as well. (Oh, the days of only have one child!)
I heard the phone ring, but didn't answer it. From the floor below, I could hear my husband leaving a message, but couldn't discern what he was saying. Back to sleep.
My parents came home around 9am. I woke when they walked in the house. Grace was still sleeping, and wouldn't wake for another hour. When I came downstairs, I remembered the message my husband left, and we listened to it. Something about a crash at the World Trade Towers?
I turned the TV on and immediately saw the images of the pentagon. Wait - hadn't Chris said it was the WTC? What's going on?'
Then I saw it... split screen. The news station showed both images at once, the WTC and the Pentagon. Burning. I sat, dumbfounded, on the couch. We, the entire nation, were mesmerized by what we saw unfolding.
Then Grace woke up. I scooped her up, brought her downstairs, sat on the sofa, and cried. I cried for the world I had brought my perfect little daughter into. I cried for all those who would never hold their babies again. I cried for all the babies who lost a parent.
In my own small world, Grace's diagnosis 7 years later was devastating. But I'm fully capable of perspective. I still have her. She's alive, healthy, thriving. As heart wrenching as it was, it's nothing compared to the sacrifice that so many paid that day.
In our home, we will never forget those that gave their lives that day, or those that continue to fight for our freedom. You are true heroes.
God Bless America.
The apache wars by paul hutton
21 hours ago