A 9/11 Moment On Bedrest

Every year when that fateful date 9/11 rolls around, I know we all recall where we were and what we were doing the exact second we found out about the planes and towers.  Seven years later, I find it fascinating to consider where God has taken me and why He’s placed me where I am today against the backdrop of an overwhelming international tragedy which became instantly personal for every American.

You see, 9/11 became a lens through which I began to view so many of my own life events.  I was eight months pregnant when 9/11 occurred.  My mother was staying with me since I was on bed-rest and had an active toddler.  My husband had already started a job in another state, thank goodness, since he had been unemployed for over a year and we were in the middle of renovating a house we couldn’t sell.  And the dot.com market had crashed, we only had one car, limited health insurance and had maxed out all our credit cards…and…and…and.

I had endured an excrutiating year.  During my 20-week ultrasound, the doctor announced Edward was a healthy boy, but also that a large mangly-looking cyst on my left ovary was threatening his very existence.  This grapefruit-sized growth looked suspiciously cancerous, and was growing every week.  Specialists were called in and consulted from all over as we charged $800 on our credit card per month for a COBRA from our last employer.

Everyone agreed the mass had to go so Edward could stay, and I could obtain further treatments, if necessary.  Yet removing the mass also involved risk for Edward.   The somewhat tricky surgery involved lifting my uterus out with baby intact, removing the cyst, and replacing the uterus.

When I share the “long version” of my testimony, I talk at length about what God showed me during this period because it is such a powerful rescue story.  I was at the depths of hopelessness in a pit of “cancer/miscarriage fear” as well as impending possibly bankruptcy.  Moving into my parents’ basement and going back to work four jobs became a clearly possible future for our family.

Yet as I lay on the operating table numb from the waste down, but fully awake since that was best for my baby, I could hear the surgeons speaking and working.  I had absolutely no fear.  No fear of losing my baby.  No fear of cancer.  When the doctors returned from pathology to announce the cyst benign, I was relieved but not terribly surprised.

Through scouring every Bible study on adversity and trials, through reading Job until I thought my head would split in two, through striving so hard to “dissect God and theology and intellectualize trials and pains,” I finally, some 15 years after I had actually become a Christian, made the important transfer from only believing in God to flat-out believing Him.  I finally laid it all down and begged Him to take control because honestly, all these years of trying to control everything and everyone had worn.me.down.

The relief was profound.

As the spinal and epidural wore off, the first thing I felt were those tiny feet, kicking furiously against my stitched stomach.  Not since the first moment of “quickening” had I been so amazed at the miracle of pregnancy.  The remainder of my recovery went much the same way.  Edward thrived, I had no premature labor, and I went home a week later to wait a few more weeks for my baby to be born.

Still, I was being wrenched out of my comfort zone and forced to abandon the town I was sure God wanted me to live in.  Why was God calling me to leave a sweet, beautiful town with a renovated house so close to a park and grocery store I could walk?  Why was I leaving the promise of an award-winning elementary school within walking distance?  Why was I becoming separated from my supportive in-laws who were previously an hour and a half away?  And now instead of two hours away, my parents were six.  I did not understand why all these changes were taking place.

So back to the 9/11 “moment” and my mom and the TV.  She’s not a big TV person, so the TV hadn’t been on.  Joseph, who was 19 months at the time, asked for Elmo–his favorite.  I flipped on the TV nonchalantly and will never forget standing there, my pregnant belly suddenly enormously heavy, staring at the towers…gaping at the plane…wondering how this could be real…fearful of my toddler watching the plane crash repeatedly into the large building…thinking at the time, “Will he remember this?  Should I move him away?”  I recall all of this as if it was yesterday, and I remember how shocked I felt as the reality slowly sunk in.

What amazed me most, however, is that my sorrow in leaving such a comfortable life and town faded into the background in the face of this instantaneous tragedy.  I don’t remember if I moved Joseph away from the TV, or if I let him sit there chanting “See plane, See plane!” for the next several minutes.  What I do remember is that from that moment forward, my own sorrows paled in comparison to those on the front lines of this tragedy.

Immediately God granted me perspective I never had before.

And that is what I think about when I remember 9/11.

Please also visit Monica Brand’s inspirational 9/11 post!  And Molly’s at The Girl in the Middle.  Don’t miss Cutie Booty Cakes 9/11 post.  She was actually there!

If you have a 9/11 post and want me to link to it, just let me know!