Butterflies in My Tummy

"Someday when you have children-"
"Ugh!  I'm NEVER having children!"

"Someday you'll have your own family"
"No, I don't picture having kids.  Too expensive"

"Congratulations on your wedding!  When are you guys going to start having kids?"
"We can wait!"

I am such a liar.

All my life (or at least my adult life) I've made it seem as though I never wanted children.  I reasoned that I wanted to travel.  I pointed out that I was not yet married.  I bragged about my love of being able to do whatever I want, whenever I want.  Most people understood my choice.  Some even envied my freedom.

The truth is, I knew from the time I was 19 that I was not going to be able to have children.  The only other person who would know this was my doctor.  No one else would ever have to know if I told them I just didn't want kids.

I was told at 19 that there were cysts blocking my ovaries.  I was told that it would be nearly impossible to get pregnant.  In order to conceive it would take effort.  Maybe surgery.  So, not impossible, but highly improbable.  But at 19, who wanted to think of putting effort into conceiving?  I took it as good news.

10 years later I switched doctors.  Or, I finally went to a doctor again.  I usually find no need to visit one unless I feel sick.  But moving to a new neighborhood forced me to list new physicians on my insurance.  I decide I might as well check one out before putting down a name.

Dr. Kastner is unlike any doctor I've ever had.  I spend 10 minutes waiting, 5 minutes on the exam table, and 10 minutes in her office to "talk."

"You're about to be 30?"

"Yes"

"Are you in a relationship?"

"Uh, I guess so"

"Boyfriend?"

"Yes"

"Long term?"

"I guess...7 years"

"Any plans for marriage?  A family?"

Are these questions legal?  "I don't know"

"So if you got pregnant, it would be a big shock, probably turn your world upside down and change everything..." she seems to mumble.  Is she taking this personally?

"I don't know.  I don't think I can get pregnant.  My last doctor said..."

"Listen.  You're about to be 30.  You're getting to the age where having a baby can become difficult.  I'm going to recommend you get serious about what you want in life.  Lose weight.  Eat healthy.  You'll feel better about yourself.  I'm going to write you a prescription for the pill.  You need to be on it."

"I... uh... ok... thanks." I stumble out of her office in shock.  Get my life together?  Feel better about myself? Getting pregnant is about to become more difficult?  Did she even ask if that's what I wanted?

Next thing you know, I'm watching the movie "Up" (a kids animation movie mind you) and balling my eyes out. There's a 10 second clip where this sweet couple are preparing to have a baby, but then something goes wrong and they're crying in the doctors office.  The wife takes this huge sigh of disappointment...despair....and I can't stop the tears from falling! Cartoons really are not for kids....

So I ponder my future again.   Do I want to have kids?   Or do I want to be the aunt at every family gathering who's always alone?  Will I regret not trying?

A few years later, I've dumped my worthless, long-term boyfriend, lost (a little) weight, changed my eating habits to include more veggies and take the pill as directed.  And things just start to happen.  I meet the man who is to be my husband!

He tells me he wants to start his own family.  I almost choke on the delicious breakfast I've made us.  But the lying continues, "I do too."

Is it a lie?  I've been saying the opposite for so long.  Which one is true?  Do I want kids or not?  What if I really can't have any?  "How do you feel about adoption?"

"No, I want my own kids."

"Ok."  I don't ask anything more. I'm sure he suspects something.

"Why did you mention adoption?" he asks me later on that evening.

Because I don't think I can have any kids of my own, I think.

I say, "I just think it's something nice to do.  Save a child.  But of course I want my own kids."  I can't tell if I'm lying or not.  But as he hugs me tightly, I can tell he really wants kids and I'd do anything to make it happen.

We marry in May.  On June 1st the following year, I'm walking through the grocery store and suddenly I feel very, very nauseous.

At that exact moment my best friend Denise, texts me to meet her at the park, but I can barely make it through check out.

-I wish I could but I feel nauseous.-

-Sick nauseous or pregnant nauseous?-

-I don't know.  I'm going home to lie down.-

In fact, I make an appointment with my doctor.  I've switched to Dr. Moon the previous year.  I found Dr. Kastner's need to "talk" a bit too much.  Dr.  Moon was so laid back...I swear he's from Hawaii.

After I've peed in a cup and changed into a tissue paper gown, a nurse comes in and takes my blood pressure.  I look at her for an answer.  She gives nothing away.  Dr. Moon comes in and asks me questions, but gives me no answers.  It isn't until the ultra sound machine is turned on that I get my confirmation.

"There's a baby in there!" Dr. Moon speaks.

I see a fluttering heart beating and imagine I can see a head and limbs, but I'm really not sure.  I start to tear up.

"Aw, you're crying!"

"It's just that I never thought I could have a baby."

"Why would you think that?"

"I thought there was something wrong with me."

"There was never anything wrong with you.  It just means that you've found the right person at the right time."

I never imagined this.  I had no idea how wonderful it would be!  I could've stared at the screen forever (if the table weren't so uncomfortable).  I cried when the doctor left me to change.  I cried driving home.  And I cried as I told my husband.  But they were the happiest tears ever.  After he washes the dishes, takes out the trash and picks up dinner from my favorite Portuguese restaurant, we settle into our happy news.

I can't lie anymore.  I love the kicks, the flutters, the hiccups and the maternity clothes.  I love the naps I know I will never have time for again.  I love the way he holds my belly and calls it his "Bambino" even though we're not Italian and couldn't care less if it's a girl or boy.  I'm having a baby with my amazing husband and I have everything I never knew I always wanted!

11 Years Later...

"Where were you on 9/11?"

This question has become as common as "Where were you born?" especially if you live in New York.  We tell our stories to anyone who asks and discover how connected we were to so many people that day.  You hear everything from, "I was watching from my office in Brooklyn" to "I didn't know what happened till I turned on the news" to "My brother worked for Cantor Fitzgerald."

In August, 2001,  I visited the World Trade Center for the 1st time.  Despite living in New York for over 10 years, I was finally visiting the tallest skyscrapers in New York.  My dad was working for Morgan Stanley in the South Tower at the World Trade Center.  I was ready to travel up to explore the observation deck, but he decided to meet me outside instead.  We went out to lunch to enjoy the gorgeous weather.  He told me of his plans to leave Morgan Stanley and take a position in California.  He left at the end of August to work for Centerbeam in San Jose, California.

On September 10, 2001, I took my mother to a Michael Jackson Concert at Madison Square Garden in Midtown Manhattan.  We enjoyed the night of music and entertainment, taking the Long Island Railroad home late at night.

Understandably, I woke up late the next morning and had to rush to work.  From my home in East Meadow to my office in Melville it's a 20 minute drive when I'm in a rush.  I was in such a rush that I didn't turn on 10/10 WINS as I usually do to listen to radio news.

When I walked into the office, my supervisor, Brian and co-worker Josh, were standing in the hall.  Josh immediately says, "A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center."

"Really?"  I say as I rush past him to get to my desk.  I immediately turned on my computer and my homepage being CNN.com, I got an idea of what he was talking about.  At the time, they speculated a small plane had hit the towers.  I remember dismissing the event as an accident.

A few minutes later Josh calls out from his desk, "Another plane hit the World Trade Center!  This isn't an accident..."

At that moment everyone left their desks and gathered outside Brian's office.  We listened to the news for a while, but Brian being the person he was, he wanted to hear Howard Stern's point of view.  He switched the station and Howard's voice came on.  Vaguely familiar with the radio show host, I recognized his voice, but noticed a difference in his speech.

Someone turned on a television a few feet away.  We watched in horror the video footage of what was going on in Downtown Manhattan.

The twin towers were burning. Flames...smoke...debris...papers...sirens.

I felt like I was glued to the TV.  My heart jumped when I thought of my father, who had worked there just the month before.

One tower fell.  A woman began to cry hysterically.  We continued to watch...speechless.

They told us to go home.  I remember passing Brian's office and hearing Howard Stern's voice again...I can't remember what he was saying but he was trying to make light of the situation.  It wasn't working.

Driving home on the Southern State Parkway was eerie.  State Troopers had their lights on and were standing guard at every other exit.  The lights on the emergency message boards were blinking yellow, indicating drivers tune into the radio for a special message.  I did that and heard something to the effect of staying out of Manhattan.

When I got home, my mom was there and the news was on.  We watched together as the second tower fell.  We watched the rescue efforts.  No one went to work the next day.   We watched the news all day.

In fact, we watched the news non-stop for two weeks.  We couldn't stop staring at those towers.  We watched the attack over and over again.  The smoke, the debris, the running, and soot covered cars and people...We heard stories from friends and family around us...someone they knew in the towers had either died or barely escaped.  No one tired of crying.

September 15th was my sister Natalie's 16th birthday.  We had a huge party planned at a catering hall.  No one would have been surprised if people didn't show up.  My own father had been trying to get home to us from California, but for several days, it was impossible to get a flight.  Cell phone service was still shaky.  We didn't know if he'd make it nor did we even want him flying.

That night, neighbors all around New York had agreed to set candles out in front of every house as a huge memorial.  We set ours out and looked up and down the street at all the flickering lights.  As we drove to the catering hall, we noticed everyone waving to each other or honking their horns in approval as more families put out candles.

To our surprise, very few people missed the party.  It seemed as though everyone had been indoors for so long that this gathering was just what was needed.  Before the night ended, my Dad made it from California.

Forever the Ex-Marine, the next day he insisted on heading to "Ground Zero" despite warnings for everyone to stay away from downtown Manhattan.  What made it worse is that he decided to take Natalie with him.  I watched the news all day and wondered if they would get anywhere near the site.  The news flashed the faces of people missing.  Families crying holding pictures of loved ones who haven't come home yet.  Throngs of people shouting "U-S-A, U-S-A!"

When they walked through the door, they were gray.  They were so dirty.  And the stench they carried was of death.  To this day, I fear for their health from the hours of breathing in that dust.

A month later, a letter arrived from someone at Cantor Fitzgerald requesting information on a securities class action law suit.  I stared at it, looking over every inch for about 10 minutes.  Finally I showed it to Josh.  "I don't even know how we would respond..." he mumbled.  "File it somewhere until we hear what happens with them."

I started a file.  It was the 1st and last letter in the file.  I left the company before I ever heard anything more about it.

By September 11, 2002, I had become a middle school teacher.  I feared going to work that day.  Not because I was afraid of something happening.  But I was afraid of how I would stay strong if my students were not.  11 years later, still can't stop staring at those towers...