Personal Narrative: The Birth Of My First Child

The birth of our daughter was an event that was both very significant as well as very inspiring to me. On September 10, 2001 at 10:00 p.m., my husband and I entered the hospital to prepare for the birth of our first child. We had assumed throughout the pregnancy that I was carrying a boy. We had chosen not to have the gender of the baby revealed because there are so few true surprises in life. The labor had already been ongoing since the early hours of the morning. I had walked many miles in an effort to expedite the process. We had taken a long ride on a rough country road among other suggestions to encourage the arrival of the new baby. I had been instructed early in the day not to eat a lot so that potential complications could be avoided if surgery was

Many prayers were sent in my efforts to endure the discomfort. I did not wish for the process to end in surgery due to the increased risks to the baby's well-being. During those long hours my strength, will and determination were tested. By 7:00 on the morning of September 11, 2001 we had achieved enough progress to begin the process of pushing. For the next two hours my sole purpose was to focus intently on the knowledge my husband and I had gained on breathing techniques and methods by which to encourage this dear life to emerge into the world. At 9:20 a.m. our dear Mallory Grace was born into the splendor of a crisp, clear Pennsylvania morning. We were surprised that it had not been a boy after all, so we greeted her with an apology. The pain of the last 32 hours vanished in an instant when we saw the miracle of this precious new life cradled in our loving arms. We had no idea of the horrific events unfolding a few hours away in New York City. We experienced many bittersweet emotions during that time. Our elation at having given birth to a healthy, vibrant baby girl was squelched by a deep grief for complete strangers who were engulfed in struggles we could not