We All Fall Down: The True Story of the 9/11 Surfer (23 page)

Dara and Mike Martire were good friends to Louise and Pasquale. Mike was a leuitenant in the New York Police Department, and Dara, his wife, was pregnant with a baby of their own. Dara and Louise had become a comfort to each other as their husbands dealt with their own issues stemming from 9/11.

“Hey, Weezie! How you doing, girl?” Louise heard Dara ask on the other end.

“Hey, Dara. Still pregnant.How about you?”

“Oh God! My back is killing me!” Dara exclaimed. “And the heartburn! Girl, I’m telling you. I feel like my belly is on fire sometimes.”

“I know, right? It is hard to eat anything anymore, even when I’m hungry!” Louise replied.To the outside world, it may have looked insane that Louise could go from thinking so many sad thoughts and being perched on the precipice of a depression and then turn around minutes later and gab on the phone with her friend about pregnancy pains, but for Louise, it was a godsend.

Every moment since the night her husband had escaped death had been oppressively heavy. There were not many people aside from Dara whom she could just call, talk about nothing with, and actually laugh—just...laugh! It was almost as if the burden could be lifted, at least temporarily, in those moments; she could almost just think about normal, mundane things such as the horrors of being unbearably pregnant. But then, she would not be unbearably pregnant for long.

All good things must come to an end, and eventually Dara had to hang up the phone and head out to a party. After that, Louise sat in silence for a few moments, left alone with her thoughts. It was during those moments, in the torturous, solitary quiet, that she finally broke.
Oh God. Tell mewhy, God?What’s going on in this world? Why Pasquale? Why anyone’s husband? They never did anything to anyone. Wwhy did that happen to them? Why did some worthless COWARDS from the other side of the world get to take away these innocent people? My husband was a good man, and so were— OUCH! Hey! What was that? Oh God!

And, just like that, Hope was ready to come into their lives...and she was just in time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

When Two Become Three

“I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean.
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens.
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
and when you get the choice to sit it out or dance…I hope you dance!”

~ Lee Ann Womack

(“I Hope You Dance”)

Pasquale’s eyes opened wide, his head snapped forward, and he looked around the dark room for any sign of familiarity. He could see nothing outside of the light being cast by the big TV in front of him.
God, it’s just...another nightmare. Maybe I should go to bed...

He picked up the remote and pointed it at the TV. He knew he should shut it off, but his hand just hung in midair, as if he’d lost control of it. He just wanted to shut off the TV and go to bed, but his brain would not let him. Instead, he just watched, once again a slave to the images of destruction flashing on the screen.

“P., are you awake?”

Pasquale jumped at the sound of Louise’s voice behind him. He immediately hated himself for being startled. Every since he’d come home the night of September 11, loud noises had caused him to jump. Whether it was an explosion on TV, a garbage truck in the early hours of the morning, or even just a door slamming, he would flash back to the horrors of five weeks prior. He had gotten better at hiding his jumpiness, but on that night, in that vulnerable and sleepy and nightmare-awakened state, he was not in control. “Oh, Nunu...” he began, hoping she hadn’t noticed. “I thought you were asleep. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is
wrong
, but...well, I think I’m in labor.” Louise’s voice remained calm. Despite the pains she was feeling and the excitement that her baby may finally be on the way, she was not alarmed. She had been ready for that day since the day Pasquale had asked her to share one love, one lifetime. She was, however, worried about stressing Pasquale further. He was already in such a vulnerable state, she did not want to cause him further distress.

“Uh, okay then! Let’s get you to the hospital.” Pasquale stood up and immediately took control of the situation.

Louise was surprised by his initiative at first, but then she just smiled. After all of those weeks of watching her husband seemingly fade away, she knew the man she had married was still in there somewhere, and now he stood in front of her, ready to do whatever she needed, to be her protector and provider, just as he always had.

Pasquale had always been a planner. He’d always thought several steps ahead, and he never liked to be surprised. So, even though he struggled to find some of the strength he had before 9/11, he had prepared for the moment when they’d deliver their baby. He would not allow his personal struggles to infringe on that blessed moment. He would be strong for his wife as she brought their little Hope into the world.

Within moments, the daddy-to-be was helping Louise into their car. Louise was in pain, but it was not intolerable, so the ride to the emergency room was relatively uneventful. Louise was admitted to the Pascack Valley Hospital maternity ward, but then the labor pains began to weaken.

“Mrs. Buzzelli, your contractions are slowing down,” said Dr. Dotto, their physician, barely glancing up from his chart. “It seems like this was just a false alarm,
Braxton Hicks contractions. It’s nothing to worry about—pretty common, actually. You’re probably not in full labor just yet.”

“Oh no! We came all the way here just for a drill?” Louise asked in disbelief.

“Don’t feel bad, Nunu,” Pasquale said. He took her hand in his and went on, “You had no way of knowing the difference.”

“Mr. Buzzelli is right,” the doctor interjected. “Braxton Hicks is easily confused with full labor. That’s why we call it ‘false labor’. Since you’re already here, we’re going to go ahead and monitor you for a little while longer. If the contractions continue to slow or come to a stop, we’ll send you home. Sound good?”

“No, that
doesn’t
sound good. I don’t want to go home. I want to have my baby!” Louise responded.

Dr. Dotto smiled at her before leaving the room.

Once they were alone and in the quiet, save for the beeping of the machines and the shuffling of nurses in the hall, Louise spoke softly to Pasquale. “I am so sorry, P. We drove all the way here…for nothing.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m not upset at all. Actually, I would’ve been pissed if you had ignored the contractions. I mean, it’s not like either of us have done this before.”

Pasquale hugged her, and she smiled. He always knew what to say to draw a grin out of her. It was one of the many reasons, though there were more than she could possibly count, why she loved him.

“And hey,” Pasquale continued, “now that I think about it, this is probably the first time we’ve been alone since it happened.” He did not have to say what the unmentionable “it” was, as they both knew: “It” was and seemingly always would be 9/11, the unspeakable day when those Towers collapsed.

“Oh my God, you’re right! It seems like this is the first time in a month when it’s just been the two of us.”

Pasquale leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “You want some more ice chips?” he offered.

Louise nodded, and Pasquale asked a nurse to refill her cup.

The next hour was quite calm. They spoke to each other in whispers, and, for the first time in five weeks, their conversation was free from the intrusion of 9/11. The only interruptions came every few minutes, when Louise felt the pang of a contraction.

“I think it’s starting to speed up,” Pasquale said to Louise. “I am going to tell the nurse.”

As it turned out, Pasquale’s intuition was right. After the temporary lull in contractions, they began to speed up again, and soon, Louise was in full labor, nothing false about it. Despite all of the buildup, the four years of trying to conceive, the months of in vitro, and the nine months of pregnancy, the birth was a relatively uneventful affair. Louise was in labor for twenty hours, but once she was given an epidural and injected with Pitocin, it seemed like everything happened in one quick blur.

“Okay, Louise. I’m going to need you to push,” the doctor said.

Louise did as she was told, summoning all the might in her little body to free an even littler one into the world.

“All right. I can see the head!”

“You’re doing it, Nunu!” Pasquale said as he brushed the hair out of Louise’s face. “You’re almost there!”

“He’s right, Louise,” Dr. Dotto said. “Come on. Just one more big push!”

Louise, though numb and exhausted, obliged and gave one last huge push before collapsing back on the hospital bed.

“Oh my God! You did it, Louise!” Pasquale exclaimed before the sound of a screaming baby drowned everything else out.

The doctor stood, and with him was the most beautiful sight Pasquale and Louise had ever seen. In his arms was the tiny gift they’d always wanted, wailing and covered in the remains of childbirth, and smaller than either of them could have possibly imagined. There, in that doctor’s arms, was exactly what they had been waiting for their whole lives: Hope Olivia Buzzelli. “Mr. and Mrs. Buzzelli, congratulations! It’s a beautiful baby girl!” announced the doctor.

“Where is she? I want to hold her!” Louise asked pleadingly, and the doctor handed her the tiny, squirming bundle. Louise looked down into the face of her daughter, her Hope, and everything else melted away. Her baby—
their
baby—was finally there. She could finally hold Hope in her arms. Within seconds, she realized her life was finally complete. She had her husband, her child, and everything she’d always wanted.

“Louise, you…God, you did it.” Pasquale looked down at his two girls in awe.

“
We
did it, Pasquale. Our baby is finally here! Oh Pasquale, you have to hold her!” With what little strength she had left, Louise held Hope up to her daddy.

Pasquale took the teeny being into his hands. His hands were so large, but suddenly they seemed diminutive when he realized he was holding life in them—his daughter’s life. He looked down upon his baby, and he could not believe what he was feeling. It was as if everything was suddenly…real. He had been so ready for his baby to be born, but the moment he laid eyes on her, the love he felt for her increased exponentially. He had loved her so much already, even when she was just a grainy picture on an ultrasound machine, but now—now that he could hold her and smell her and look at her tiny…everything… “I can’t…I can’t believe…” He could not get the words out.

“I know! She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Louise said.

He handed the baby back to his wife and stood by her side. They both remained in silence, needing to say nothing more. The love between them and for their little one was so strong that nothing either of them could have said would have done it justice. So instead, they just sat together in that hospital room on November 18, 2001, truly together for the first time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Welcome to the Family

“
My grandma says that when a baby sleeps, they dream about angels. And now that I have met all of you…you are the angels I have dreamt about. Before I go to bed each night, I’ll ask Jesus to watch you through the day and through the night, until you wake in morning’s light. God bless you all!”

~ Louise Buzzelli

It was two weeks after Hope was born, and Pasquale found himself once again sitting on the couch with his eyes open and images of planes, skyscrapers, explosions, and impossibly thick clouds of smoke reflected in them. He was holding the remote in his right hand, but that was only out of habit. As much as he wanted to, he just could not bring himself to change the channel or turn the blasted thing off. He just watched, over and over again, until eventually his eyelids started to feel too heavy and began to close.

“P...”

Pasquale jerked awake and saw Louise standing a few feet from him.

“It’s after midnight. Are you coming to bed?”

“Oh..yeah.” He rubbed his eyes and tried, though he new it was futile, to clear his head of the images that were flashing through his mind. “I’m sorry. I’ll be up in a minute, Louise.”

“Okay. Remember, we have the press conference tomorrow,” Louise reminded, trying to ignore her concern that he was still sitting alone in the dark, almost obsessively watching footage from that day, even with a new baby sleeping upstairs.

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.”

“All right. Just try not to be up too late, okay?”

“I won’t. I’ll be upstairs in a few minutes, I promise.”

Louise nodded and left the room.

Pasquale looked back at the TV and was overcome with severe self-loathing.
What the hell is wrong with me? What am I doing, sitting here while my wife is upstairs with our newborn baby? We waited so long for Hope. Now she’s here, and I can’t get myself together. I just sit here, like a freakingjerk!I am such a loser, sitting here like a mope when I am the lucky one. What about Pat? Steve? What about everyone who di...they lost everything. They would not be sitting on a couch, wasting their lives. God! Why can’t I clear my head? Why can’t I just go back to providing for my family? I can’t even do that. I can’t be a good husband, and I certainly am not being a good father to that beautiful little girl up there. WHY CAN’T I FIX THIS?!