Two years ago it happened. 40 weeks and a day into my pregnancy and it was finally your time to join us earth-side. None of it happened the way I thought it would. None of it. But finally holding you safe in my arms was all that mattered.
It wasn’t the timing I hoped for…
Your due date was September 10th which also happens to be the day your Uncle Chris was born. While he claimed he wanted to keep his birthday to himself, I know he would have loved sharing this day with his newest niece. I thought it would have been special, but I was convinced I’d be meeting you sooner.
Your big sissy was born at about 38 and a half weeks and I was so sure you’d make your way a bit early too. After all, isn’t everything supposed to be faster and ‘easier’ the second time around? HA!
At each of those latter appointments I was told you were just as content as you wanted to be, but I didn’t think my humongous basketball belly could expand anymore! I was doing my darndest to walk you out, plus I knew your Nana was coming to town a week before your expected date of arrival. Due to circumstances beyond our control her time was very limited. I prayed and prayed for you and her to meet in that delivery room but that wouldn’t be the case. You were hanging tight.
I was disappointed and shed many tears, but I knew my mom would meet you soon enough. At that point I was ready for you to be here. I was beyond ready and said I didn’t care when, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Deep in my heart I didn’t want a September 11th baby.
Any day but that.
Was I putting too much on it? Was I hormonal and overthinking things? Perhaps.
But maybe I wasn’t.
The tragic, horrific, and senseless acts of that day will be in the history books for my children. It was a day we saw the absolute worst in humanity and the absolute best. We’ll all remember exactly where we were when it happened. So many innocent lives were lost and so many sacrifices were made. We vowed as a nation to never forget.
So I admit it. I asked myself those questions.
How many people would give me ‘that look’ when I told them your birthdate?
Will it make you feel bad once you’re old enough to understand?
Will I be viewed as insensitive or unpatriotic if I post party pics instead of a memorial tribute?
How can I embrace and protect our tiny bubble of happiness on a day so marred by loss and devastation?
Am I completely selfish for even having these thoughts?
Am I being ridiculous?
How can I make it special for you?
I remember where I was, how I felt, and how my life was affected 15 years ago on September 11, 2001. And I remember where I was, how I felt, and how my life was affected 2 years ago on September 11, 2014. So how would I reconcile the two in a way that felt right for me? The answer was simple.
I would celebrate you with my whole heart. I would stop worrying and give you everything I would give you if you were born on any other day. Long before you could comprehend any historical significance I would engrain into your mind the importance of your birthday because you have made our lives better. And I would not feel guilt or shame for the joy you brought to our family because of the date.
I remember lying in the hospital bed holding you when your Papa Bob, a retired colonel in the USMC, said something so tender and profound.
I know this isn’t the day you would have picked. It seemed like everything went wrong on that day years ago, but today everything is right. You have a beautiful little girl and she can be the hope we can all hold on to. She can be what’s right in the world. She will always be your little blessing.
It wasn’t the timing I hoped for, but you will always be my blessing. Not only on your birthday, September 11th, but every day the good Lord allows me to love you in this lifetime.
Wondering what happened when I went into labor? Was my attempt at a vbac successful? Stay tuned for part two. It certainly wasn’t what I expected!