9/11 : Bittersweet

I just wanted to point out that 9/11 is a day of happiness for me, but of sorrow as well. While I remember vividly watching the towers fall that day, little did I know that I would be pushing out my fourth and last child a year later. I cried as I watched the towers fall, no sounds emitting from my mouth...just the flow of tears as I stood in horror. I went to school that day, afraid as usual of missing something important, only to be kept in the class as the university took measures to protect those who shared nationality with the enemy. Upon my release, I rushed home to my three babies. That December, when my husband's brother came to visit, a little oopsie daisy that turned into the best thing that happened to me became a reality as I vied for my husband's attention. It was when the last box was carried into our first home that my contractions started at midnight on 9/11. As my husband lay his head down for the first time that day, I tapped him on the shoulder and told him it was time. Only a few hours later, our 9 lb 7 oz baby boy was celebrating his birthday. A packed hospital that day with other new babies, I spent much time alone as my husband ran about getting our girls into school and finalizing moving details. Now, six years later, my baby boy, Ty, gives me a reason to be happy on that horrific day. Instead of calling it 9/11, we call it 9-7 on 9-11. Happy Birthday, Ty Ty...and a moment of silence please.