Tried and failed again…

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For twelve years I have tried and failed to write about 9/11. Last night I stayed up way too late laboring over the essay that I thought would finally express what that day meant to me. This morning, twenty minutes before it was scheduled to post, I read it again and aborted. At the last minute, it seemed to me that “no words” better expressed what I was trying to say than the 700+ words I had wrung out of myself like blood from a stone. Ironically, yesterday’s “no words” post, which consisted of just that, got more hits than many other posts I’ve spent hours composing.

Today I’ll just say that this is what kept me going that terrible year:

I lived for the doctor’s appointments when I could hear the heartbeat of my son, who was born about 9 months after 9/11.

3 responses »

  1. I was pregnant on 9/11 too! My son was born 4 months later in January. I will admit that during that time I too focused alot of my attention on the baby to be growing inside me. Some things are hard to put into words. I know exactly where I was, what I was doing. The chaos it caused because I was supposed to be on a plane but the flight was delayed by a day because of a hurricane (I was traveliing home from Japan) I could tell you but it would just be a list. I too struggle to find the words.

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