Andy was a newborn who scoffed at sleep, I was a new mom who wanted to set fire to the phrase, “sleep like a baby,” because my baby didn’t sleep. And one beautiful September morning, after yet another night of it’s-kinda-sleep, after being screamed to his bedside yet again and giving up any hope of shut-eye to rock him in the early morning hours, the world changed.
The boys see 9/11 as history, something they’ve read about in books and seen on BrainPop. Tom and I see it as the day when everything changed. We went to bed the night before, having watched the Broncos game and seeing Ed McCaffrey’s horrible leg break, and woke to a different world.
Even now I give thanks that Andy was a five month old, never sleeping infant. If he’d been older that day would have been an even worse hell, traumatizing him to a point I don’t want to even consider. We could barely hold it together; an intense child losing his own shit on top of that…I don’t even want to think about it.
I’m relieved the boys will only know this day as something in a history book, that they weren’t here to live it. I wish none of us had had to live it.
Peace and blessings on this day of remembrance. May no one see this kind of evil again.