I was getting my house ready to host the babies play group. Seven moms were to show up at 10:30 a.m. with their babies (all about 3 months old). Michael called me from work and said, "Turn on the TV."
"Why?" I asked.
"It's bad. Just turn it on."
"It doesn't matter. Gotta go." And he hung up.
I turned on the TV to NBC, I think. By the time I had oriented to what was happening, the plane hit the second tower, and that was when I started to cry.
Needless to say, the play group didn't meet. I called every mom to make sure they were okay. I cried for the rest of the day. Over the next several weeks, Michael and I made an emergency plan, bought survival supplies to shelter in place, and prayed a lot more than before.