On September 11th, I  jumped out of  bed excited, and whisked my baby boy out of his crib.  He  was 3 months  old as of that day, and like any mother, I celebrated  every single  milestone.  He had an uncanny habit of waking up at 9:00  am every day.   It never failed, and the first thing I did as I changed  his diaper and  readied his bottle was switch the television on to CNN.   I've always  been a news junkie, so it was routine.

Immediately,  the images of  the twin towers being hit were shown, and no matter how  many times I  watched it, I still couldn't believe it.

A friend  called and  mentioned how bad it was, and I agreed, but the severity of  the  situation wasn't fully realized.  Sometimes planes wreck, and  people  make it.  Boats sink, but people manage to be saved.  Call it  wishful  thinking or the product of too many feel-good movies, but I  thought  everything would be okay.  I didn't think about the number of  floors in  the buildings or the sheer volume of people within.

When  the  towers fell, I became seized with panic and fear.  I held my baby  boy  close as people coated in dust and ash ran through the streets,   terrified for their lives.  I cried and cried as people began searching   and pleading for help in finding their loved ones.  Their tearful   requests and the handwritten signs with pictures taped to them will stay   with me for the rest of my life.

Before then, I hadn't felt a   real connection with New York.  I didn't know anyone and I had never   been there.  Over 1,000 miles away, it was part of the country, but not   part of my conscious.  It saddens me that it took an act of terror to  establish camaraderie.

Some time ago, my son asked about  September  11th and its significance.  I was able to tell him that the  best part of my day was waking up to his smiling face.  I told him about  the twin towers, the  Pentagon, and how the passengers on flight 93  surely saved so many other  lives with their actions.  My voice was  cracking the whole time, and although I tried to maintain composure,  tears fell uncontrollably.  The same thing  is happening as I write  this, because no matter how much time passes,  the memories and  heartbreak will never fade.