When America was attacked on September 11th, 2001, I was living in England. My husband, then boyfriend, was at college in Maine. I was due to visit him for Thanksgiving. My parents were due to fly to Canada on September 13th. I was at home with a friend when we heard about it. My brother called and told me to turn the news on, my stomach leapt into my throat. I fielded questions all day, from people asking where Maine was exactly, and if everyone we knew was okay. Even in my fairly disconnected English town, everyone knew someone who knew someone. My parent's trip was canceled, and a trip to Canada remains on their bucket list.
When I arrived at the airport in November, I was shocked to discover that my flight no longer existed. After 9/11, flights were re-arranged. You could no longer fly from Gatwick airport in London to Boston. I hadn't checked the flight before leaving, I never had to before, and in my naivete I did not think to on that occasion. Many tears and some wonderful assistance later, they put me on a flight to New York with a connector to Boston. I remember everyone at the time saying “This is the safest time to fly, no one would try anything now.”
I had never been a nervous flier, and 9/11 didn’t change that. Even though the terrorists changed planes in Portland, Maine, not twenty minutes from my current home. Even though I have a high school friend who I keep expecting to see in the news as a suicide bomber. I will not live or travel in fear.
Then in 2009 I became pregnant. I flew back to England so that my mom could see me glow, so that my grandmother could see my bump. I watched the safety demonstration, wondering how I would cope with my built-in flotation device. Foolishly, I was also in the middle of watching Lost. Halfway home we hit turbulence and I burst into tears. It was no longer about me. The world I lived in now had to look after the baby I was carrying, my family, my son, my life. It shocked me how much I was affected by traveling while pregnant. When we flew back I was calmer, but still concerned about turbulence, about the other passengers, about the unknown. We have since flown several times with our children, and I have to admit, it takes a lot of effort not to think about the nightmare scenarios. For me, I have no concern, but you get close to my kids and you touch a nerve. Being a parent changes the way you view the world, and when you are above the clouds the perspective gets a little altitude sickness.
I may be a tad more nervous about flying with my family than I was as a footloose and fancy free single gal, but still I refuse to live or travel in fear. I will raise my kids to love the world they live in, to enjoy the world they live in, and when the time is right I will explain to them what happened on 9/11 and why it is important that we not live in fear.
