I told Beth I wasn’t going to cry.
Ten years ago my first baby was born. She was born still, as they say. Except there was nothing still about it. Kicking and squirming inside my stomach, she made her presence known. And labor and delivery is never a still process, the body knows nothing of whether the baby is too tiny, too soon, or too still. Two pounds or ten, the process is the same. For a moment, the pain is even the same. Grief and childbirth both feel like being ripped apart from the inside out. With both you start filled with something and finish with an indescribable emptiness. Only when the two come together do you realize how very different they are. Childbearing turns to child-rearing and the hole inside you is filled from the outside in. But when instead of being born unto you, the child is borne away from you – “Would you like me to make footprints? Shall I dress her or will you? Is it time for me to take the body away now?” – then the tears carve out the hole and your grief guards it and the hole that was never supposed to stay, it becomes a part of you.
On some anniversaries my husband and I have planted flowers or lit candles or baked a birthday cake. Some years I open her memory box, untie the green ribbon that held my heart together, and let myself cry over the few physical mementos I have left. Some years it passes almost without remark except for an ache. But this year, the tenth year, the tears came all on their own.
I told my son I wasn’t going to cry.
September 11, 2001, I watched the Twin Towers come down on TV with my students. Oddly the thing I remember most about those moments was that CNN.com crashed because too many people were looking for information about something that will never make sense no matter how much we learn about it. But it was CNN.com going down that made me realize how severe the situation truly was – we’d never before had a disaster so large the Internet was brought to its knees. I suppose this makes sense; I was teaching a computer science course.
Before we even knew about the other planes, I sent my students home to huddle around their TV sets and hug their loved ones. Looking back it’s the not knowing that feels scariest. We didn’t know how many planes there were, or why, or how. We didn’t know if there were more targets. We didn’t know how many people were dead. And we didn’t know if my baby was dead. I went to the doctor’s office. I had already begun labor. Like most people I spent that day crying but I’ll admit that I saw everything through the loss of my daughter. For me, one tiny baby trumped thousands of lives lost that day. And being able to stumble around the following weeks with teary eyes in crowds of others in active mourning felt like a kind of gift.
I’ve never re-watched the video footage of the planes crashing or the towers falling – until my oldest son asked me today if he could watch it. They had learned about the attack in school and he wanted to see it. He had so many questions. So we sat down together and watched a 9/11 tribute video on YouTube. It was the first time for me watching it without the haze of stillness that had permeated the actual day. I cried and cried and cried. I cried for the people in the buildings, the people jumping out of the buildings, the people in the planes, the rescue workers, and all the people who survived them. I’d always known but for the first time I felt what a monumental tragedy this was. This year, the tenth year, the appropriate tears finally came.
I told Laura I wasn’t going to cry.
My grandmother died on Friday. When I first heard of her death from my mother (I was at the gym, naturally) admittedly I didn’t feel much. It wasn’t a surprise. Nor was it necessarily a bad thing – she was very sick and in a lot of pain. And while she and I had had a strained relationship, it ended on good terms. Yet she was the last of my grandparents. It feels strange to be unmoored in this way. It feels a little scary to be two generations away from the one making their final exit. I can’t imagine what this must feel like for my mom because I can’t imagine the horror of losing her. In fact, I don’t even want to think about that inevitability. Not yet. The thing about grief is you can’t anticipate it. It’s bad enough all on it’s own.
So when my sister asked me if I had cried for Nana, I said no. But today I cried. Good-bye Nana. I love you. And I’m glad I got the chance to tell you that before you died.
I didn’t want to cry today.
How was your September 11th? Did you cry today?
I’m so sorry about your Nana! Even when it’s not a surprise, and when we hope they are no longer in pain, it still hurts.
And, of course, I’m so sorry for the loss of your first little girl. Always.
I told myself I wasn’t going to watch the tributes today. I tell myself that every year. But I do, and I did. And I cried. I sat and watched and remembered sitting alone in our new house with our nearly 2 month-old son, in an eerie silence: no traffic sounds outside, no planes flying overhead, no trains going by on the tracks behind the house. Just the TV and the horrible images, over and over again. I remembered how kind we all were to each other for a while. How considerate and patient. And how very, very sad.
After 9-11 my sister-in-law left her job as a flight attendant for American Airlines, my brother joined the FBI, and I determined that the post-partum depression I’d been feeling would NOT get the better of me. I would not leave my husband and son alone. Life is a gift, and too many kids had lost their parents that day.
I’m sorry about your Nana and your daughter, but, death isn’t the end, right? Or at least I don’t think it is- I’m not sure of the details (obviously, since I’m still here), but I’m pretty sure all those I love will be around for forever, whether they’re with me now or not.
I did not cry today. I thought of those who died, and those who lost loved ones, but I try to avoid crying, it’s a snowball situation. Today, instead of crying, I tried to see my friends, talk to my family, and generally be thankful that they’re all here and healthy and happy. I vote positive/uplifting/silver lining type thoughts instead of…the crying kind.
I was in Grade 9 when 9/11 happened. I was sitting in gym class, when our teacher told us that we all needed to go home- there were rumours that WW III had started, I had no idea what was going on. My mom came and picked me up. I remember seeing it on CNN. I didn’t really understand the ramifications at the time.
Charlotte, this post very nearly brought me to tears. Like you, the sadness of 9/11 is overshadowed by my personal grief for the loss of my father, which happened shortly before the tragedies of that day. I was 14 when all of this happened. To this day, if I begin crying about, well, anything, I find my tears inevitably turn to him and they are hard to turn off. So, no, I didn’t cry today.
But I wanted to.
Thank you for your honesty, your trust, and your grief. I appreciate that you share so much with your readers. It makes me feel close to you on a day that is so painful for you, and me, and so many others. I’m sending you love. xoxo
I did
a lot
for me and for friends.
I am so sorry for the loss of your grandmother. I did not cry yesterday, despite learning of the death of my father-in-law, (expected since he was 87 and in poor health-but still sad). However I kept busy. Arranging for a dog sitter, writing absence notes for the kids, rearranging my work appointments, buying appropriate pants and socks for Darling Boy, Hotel Arrangements, etc. Then when I ran out of those things, I decided it was the PERFECT day to organize the large box of scattered photos, because those 2000 loose photos really, really needed to be categorized.
I am so sorry for the loss of your daughter and Nana.
I was pregnant with my first child that day and yesterday we sat down at the computer (like you) and watched and talked about it. And I cried.
Beautiful post! I’m so sorry for the deep personal loss you suffered on that date.
I have such a weird mix of feelings about 9-11. We lived in Manhattan at the time, and evidence of the horrible losses were everywhere, with thousands of “missing” posters around town, fires that never went out etc. (Friends of friends died, but fortunately for us, no one we knew well). But I also have a great deal of anger–not just at terrorists but at the way our grief was hijacked to turn our country into something ugly and unrecognizable. The Bush administration used it as fuel for so many egregious misdeeds. And so many Americans became paranoid and intolerant. We squandered the world’s sympathy and the spirit of togetherness that was present in the wake of the tragedy. So the memorials tend to bring up as much anger as sadness for me– I confess I avoided them and saved tears for another day.
Agree with you, Crabby. The concert band I play in was part of a commemorative event yesterday but I wasn’t asked to play and was honestly happy to get out of it. My friend who had to play said it was nice though. Big turn out and good togetherness vibes.
9-11 is the first event of my life that I’ll always remember in detail. I was 22. I only cried just now, reading this post.
Sorry for the loss of your Grandmother and your daughter.
On 9-11 we watched the news all day. Since then I really haven’t watched much footage of what had happened. Last night we watched a History Channel special and I was beyond emotional watching what had happened. There were many images/videos that I hadn’t seen before and in a way it is still so shocking that it happened in the first place.
I cried. I try to chalk it up to pregnancy hormones, but really, it’s all the ugly and the beautiful that went on that day. I’m grateful that in the midst of tragedy there can be something wonderful and kind that occurs. Last might I watched a video about the boatlift of nearly 500,000 people off the island of Manhattan in the aftermath of the attacks, after bridges, tunnels, and subways off the island had been shut down. All in 9 Hours with almost exclusively volunteer efforts by boat pilots and captains in the New York harbor. I’d never heard the story, and I cried when I saw it. I’m crying even now to write about it, but that really could be pregnancy hormones. 🙂
Thank you for telling us about your “not” crying. It’s okay to cry, and it’s still taking me time to realize that.
I didn’t cry yesterday. I did think a little about where we were as a country 10 years ago- how everyone pulled together. It’s sad to see how divided we’ve become since then.
I did cry reading this post. Motherhood has made me more weepy than I used to be.
Hugs to you.
So sorry to hear about your grandmother. It’s always hard no matter how expected it is. My uncle passed a few weeks ago from colon cancer, so I completely understand.
I did not cry yesterday. I spent the day at a wonderful parade and made sure to smile at ALL of the military personnel that were there. It was a perfect day to celebrate what is still good in our country.
However, I was appalled by how many places of business did not have their flags at half mast yesterday. Did anyone else notice that?
Sorry to hear about your grandmother.
I cried yesterday. My husband kept asking me why I wanted to keep watching this stuff if it made me cry. I couldn’t answer besides because. I would have been perfectly content yesterday to haul away in our bed and watch 9/11 footage all day and eat comfort food and drink. But having two young kids doesn’t allow that anymore. Sigh.
(((HUGS))) to you….your post made me cry 🙁
I thought of you and your sweet Faith. I watched the History Channel replay live video coverage of that horrific morning all night long. Very sobering. Condolences regarding Nana! Love you!
I am so sorry about your Nana. And baby Faith. I know this must be a very difficult time for you, sweetie. {Virtual hug}
I was in grade six when the Twin Towers came down. We lived in Colorado at the time, so the first tower had already been hit before I got to school. We watched the second plane hit and the towers fall in my homeroom class that day. Honestly, I don’t even remember whether or not we had any classes that day.
Somehow, watching the documentary on CBS last night that was filmed by firefighters at the scene made it more real. It was real that day, watching it on the news, but it became more real watching it from the angle of the people on the ground. It became very real hearing the roar of the jet and looking up with all the firefighters just in time to see the first plane hit.
No crying from me, but I think it shocked me all over again.
I did that day, but not for the 911 thing…I was in Vancouver on a work holiday and spent a bit of time before I came home with my husband’s favorite aunt and her 2 daughters who have become much like extra sisters and mom to me…and sspending time with them like that, and then saying bye to them made me think of my mum…and miss her. I was sad for a while on the long flight home by myself. Even tho I know I wouldn’t have gone out to dimsum and crazy shopping with my mum like I did with them….I sure would give anything to do it 🙂
I’m sorry your little girl and about your gran. It’s sad letting people go, even when it’s time…
I did not cry until I read your post…I am sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing. Hugs.
I cried, when I read about one son who called his mom from inside the towers, and told her that he didn’t think they were going to survive. Her response? “Go hold someone’s hand. I don’t want you to die alone”. As a mom, I can’t even imagine saying those words to my child…and I can’t imagine going through my entire pregnany, and the pain of labor (I’m 16 weeks preg with our 2nd right now), and then losing the baby. It must have been heartwrenching, to say the least. I’m so sorry that you went through that.
HUGS!!!!
I did tear up at some of the shows I watched yesterday BUT it is also my stepdaughter’s bday so we need to LIVE & understand we can be happy on that day too & still remember.
Love you forever and like you for always. Forever and ever my Charlotte you’ll be. Once again I am flying the skies around 9-11 marking the passage of a loved one. We can cry together at the internment and family dinner. Remembering with special love our darling, beautiful Faith on her 10th anniversary.
I’m sorry to hear about your Nana. I’m sorry again about Faith. Much love to you.
For some reason, I fought the tears all day yesterday. Not sure why?
Your mom’s comment just made me tear up.
Hugs and lovin’s, Charlotte.
I didn’t watch any memorials on Sunday. I did get choked up a few times reading some friends’ personal stories and reactions on FB and elsewhere… including yours (although technically I didn’t read your words on 9/11), but I don’t believe I shed any actual tears. There have been plenty of them over the last decade relating to that particular day, sometimes at the most random and unexpected times. That’s pretty much how my crying about anything goes, though. 🙂
I did cry… I had just found out I was pregnant on the third of September that year and by the 8th knew things were off.. I had made grandparents cards to send out to announce our newest news and when I started miscarrying I went out to mailbox to retrieve them.. That evening in the moonlight as I was walking out to retrieve laundry I couldn’t shake feeling that I had to lose this baby because there was something about to happen… Never in a million years did I feel this loss would be anything outside of myself… But that Tuesday it was very clear to me my baby was needed else where… And that gave me comfort in my sorrow.. 10 years and 3 babies since I still feel that wonder that misplaced loss even… But we will meet I KNOW THIS… 🙂 crying is always good no matter the timing is off several years lol … My heart goes out to you!…
I did cry. We were redecorating our two daughters’ room and I was overcome by a sense of failure because the ceiling lines were wobbly and the furniture was gloppy. I cried because my adoring husband let our darling 7-year-old paint her own bed after I’d spent 5 evenings sanding, filling, and tacking it. I cried because we might lose out house to foreclosure and have spent months waiting on a definitive answer from the bank. I cried because motherhood is hard, and marriage is harder.
I remember all too well the days of grieving my own lost babies- none so heart-wrenching as your loss, but losses nonetheless. Shame on me for crying over paint and addresses.
XO,
A.
Ugh, what an awful day you had. I wish i had known so i could, I don’t know, do SOMETHING. So glad you have friends and family who love you and an outlet like to express yourself so beautifully. xoxox
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