I turned on the television just in time to see a replay of the plane hitting the South Tower. I called my secretary and told her to get money, groceries, gasoline and her kids and to go home. Reports about bombs in Washington, D.C., made me think that we were at war. I watched the North Tower collapse behind a stunned Aaron Brown on CNN. I called my husband, who could not leave his high school until his students' parents returned home. My sister was stranded in downtown Boston when the subway was shut down. I tried calling everyone I knew in New York and Washington.
I never made it to work. Governor Swift shut down state government at 11 a.m. and I stayed glued to the television for hours.
I had just pulled into the Beverly Hospital parking lot to have my third child. It was about 8:45 a.m. and my husband and I heard about the first plane crash on the radio. I thought it was strange but didn't think much of it and went into the hospital to have my baby. A lot of commotion started in the hospital, but I was more focused on having a baby than what was going on in the rest of the world. My daughter Caroline was born later that afternoon, so 9/11 has a whole different meaning for our family and everyone always remembers her birthday.
I was deep in thought at my desk when someone poked their head into my office in Wakefield and yelled to come quick and watch the TV in the company's conference room.
Every channel you turned to, it was the same unbelievable story. A plane had crashed into one of the towers at the World Trade Center. As we watched, another plane hit the second tower. Then we heard about the Pentagon and then possibly the White House.