My Miscarriage & 9/11

Like most people who lived in the Tri-State area, for the week following 9/11, I was in a perpetual state of shock fuelled by non-stop television coverage, by a permanently altered view from my bedroom window and by the knowledge that but for a twist of fate, I would have been on a PATH train entering the World Trade Center at 8:55 am.

On the morning of September 11th, I was in the waiting room of my OBGYN when the first frantic calls came through.  "Are you OK?", my sister asked.  "Where are you?" my mother cried.   Where was I?  I was with my husband waiting for my  second post miscarriage/ D&C consult.   On the morning of September 11th, I woke with the dread of having to confront my declining fertility.  By the afternoon, I realized that it was that decline that quite possibly saved my life .... or at least saved me from some very unpleasant memories.

A collegue of mine who actually made it a habit of getting to work on time, was on the last PATH train before the planes hit.  For his efforts, he was rewarded by the sight of dead bodies - people who jumped in order to escape death by fire.

My 9/11 experience taught me that sometimes good things can come from bad.  Some people might say that everything happens for a reason, but then to believe that I suppose one would have to believe in some sort of devine intervention, which I don't.  I mean, who am I to deserve that.