Heavy with my fourth child, I remember the phone call that alerted me to turn on the television.
With my college roommate on the other end of the long distance line, I sat on my bedroom floor staring clueless and confused at the screen. My three little ones (at 5, 4 and 2 years old) were carrying on around my perimeter with business as usual, completely unaffected by the troubles of the world.
The morning news cut to live footage of the first tower with smoke billowing from its side and the newscasters tried their best to spin a story while still devoid of facts.
As I listened to their banter and speculations, a second plane appeared in the New York skyline. Its purposeful trajectory made clear we were witnessing something very different than first considered.