anniversaries and milestones

Three big things went on this week, two personal and one global. Two wonderful and full of love, and one, of course, quite the opposite.

I’ll start there. We’ve all been bombarded with “where were you on 9/11?” sentiments from ads on TV to blog posts to segments on NPR that I had to turn off moments before bursting into tears. I’d say damn the hormones but I don’t know if they’re completely at fault. For some reason, the events of that morning seemed to tear something inside of me, and to this day, I have trouble keeping my eyes dry when I think about it too closely.

So where was I? I was three months graduated from university and working for a coffee house – but not the one I worked at all through college.  Tuesday, September 11, 2001 was one of my last days in my three-week-stint as an employee of this particular caffeine outlet. On Monday, September 17, I was to start my very first actual career job. So anyway that Tuesday, my roommate woke me from a very deep sleep. She said, “Someone’s bombing Washington”. Another friend had called our apartment and told her to turn on the radio. It was only 6am and change west coast time. My first thought was “Why on Earth would anyone bomb Washington (state)?” ha.

So we turned on the TV and sat, glued. Everyone had images of the news that day burned on their brains. I’ll tell you mine. One of those major anchors on a major network (I honestly can’t tell them apart, I’m sorry) was sitting in front of a New York skyline. Two towers stood behind him, taller than anything else and smoking from about 3/4 of the way up. They were yammering on about something when suddenly the scene behind him began to change. What I will never forget about that moment, and what is imprinted on my memory is the look on the reporter’s face. This journalist who had told us, with such even manner and presence, about so many of our history’s events. Atrocities and wonders and the very mundane alike. This man’s face registered shock and fear and the complete bewilderment that we all felt as we watched floor after floor of the first of those mammoth buildings crash down, taking with them our fellow human beings.

He didn’t know what to say. I’ll never forget that. None of us did. And in that moment, we were all the same.

I managed to get myself to work. Starbucks closed, but we didn’t. I couldn’t stop crying and at one point someone in line asked me why I was so upset. He hadn’t heard. I said, remember the twin towers? They’re not there anymore. I am not sure that he believed me. All day there were reports of other planes, other attacks, none of which turned out to be true thank god. When my shift finally ended, a couple of my friends were there to meet me. My roommate and I went to get pizza that night, just to get out of the house. We purposely sat where we could not see any TVs. I remember thinking that I didn’t want to live in a world where this was what people did to other people. I wondered how life could ever go on and seem normal again.

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But life went on, didn’t it? And six years later (minus three days) was quite a different day. One full of family and friends and laughter and love. On which I pledged to love someone for the rest of my life.

My husband and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary this week. It’s funny that four years seems like so little. We’ve been together more than twice that and so much of our history came before the vows. But at the same time so much has transpired since that day, that it makes it feel like a lifetime ago.

These days our celebrations look a lot like regular days. We worked, we met up afterwards and went out for Indian food, just the three of us. No gifts or sappy cards, but we know. Deep inside where it counts, we both know just how lucky we are. To have each other. To have our families and our home. And most of all to have our two, perfectly amazing little boys.

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And speaking of the smaller of those two little miracles: the milestone. This week marked the 20th week of gestation for my second son. We’re halfway to meeting him and I couldn’t be more excited. We had our anatomy scan which went really well – everything looked perfect and the penis was confirmed. 😉 It wasn’t quite as in-depth as Gus’ was, which I thought was odd. But I’m not really worried about it.

We did get better pictures of this little tyke than Gus ever let us get. My firstborn kept his hands tightly in front of his face despite the best (and very uncomfortable) efforts of the doctor to get him to move. I was content waiting to see his cute little mug, though, so it didn’t bother me. This guy was much more photogenic though, even sucking back the amniotic fluid in a movement that will become his number one signal that it’s time for mama to supply some boobies STAT.

Usually I think these 3D shots are a little creepy but this one was such a dramatic pose, it makes me smile. 🙂 I’m so looking forward to meeting this little guy. My heart is warm in anticipation of quiet moments spent learning each other and memorizing this other person who will mean everything to us for the rest of our days.

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So what’s the takeaway? I guess it would be that life does go on. Even though it may have changed ten years ago, and even though I may have realized, at the tender age of 22, that the world wasn’t always the place I wanted it to be, sometimes it is. Sometimes it really is.

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