September 11, 2001, will forever be etched into our memories as a day of tragedy and despair. Yet, in spite of the fact that so many lives were lost in an instant, there is hope for our future. It lives in the innocence and beauty of newborn babies; proof that life is a circle and that hope always exists, even in the direst of circumstances.

In this delightful book, Christine Pisera Naman, whose son Trevor was born on that fateful day, has gathered together striking black-and-white photos of her child and forty-nine other babies who share the same birthday. Gathered from each of the fifty states in the union, these shining faces give hope to our nation as its citizens reflect on the anniversary of September 11.

With simple eloquence, the author shares two wishes that she has for each little one, such as:

• I hope that you find good in all people.
• I hope you catch snowflakes on your tongue.
• I hope you always have more than you need and share your plenty.
• I hope you are someone's dream come true.

Through the smiling photos of these precious babies, readers will remember that, even in tragedy, there is always a ray of sunshine. With new life, there is always hope.

A portion of the proceeds from this book will be donated the Twin Towers Orphan Fund Charity.

Introduction

Having a baby on any day is a special experience; having a baby on September 11, 2001, was especially unique.

Every new mother cradles her newborn in her arms on the day that it is born and wonders what kind of world she has just brought this tiny, innocent little being into. Every new mom spends at least a few moments on her baby's first evening of life wondering what kind of world we live in. Mothers who gave birth on September 11, 2001, were no exception. They just had more company with their wondering than most new mothers do.

Almost everyone sat somewhere that night wondering what type of world we were living in.

I did, too. As I sat in my bed on the maternity floor of a Pennsylvania hospital holding my newborn son, Trevor, I, too, was wondering what type of world I had brought this sweet little baby into. While I held him, caressing his tiny fingers and toes, marveling at his perfection, I prayed it was a good one.

As the television in the corner of the room droned on relentlessly, the experts took turns trying to explain the unexplainable tragedy that had rocked the world.

I wiped a tear from my eye for the victims whose lives had been cut short with so much life left yet to enjoy. My heart ached for the victims' families who were living their worst fear. I cried for the children whose parents were explaining with words what no childrens' ears should ever have to hear-that someone that they loved was now gone-while my own husband was home explaining to my children about the birth of their brother and the miracle of new life. I felt guilty that I was feeling blessed on a day when so much sadness had touched so many.

As my baby drifted off to sleep, I whispered to him, ""No one will ever forget your birthday."" As his breathing became soft and regular, the announcer on the television explained to me that definitely indeed there were bad people in this world. I prayed that my baby would never meet one. I held him tighter, wishing that I could always keep him this safe, but knowing sadly that I couldn't.

I held him, dreaming dreams, hoping hopes, wishing wishes and praying prayers for the life I wanted him to have.

I wondered if other new moms who had babies that day were having similar thoughts. Together we share something unique.

The serious voices reverberating from the television anxiously tried to make sense of evil, all the while knowing there was no sense to it. Instead, they settled for explaining what had happened because trying to explain why was impossible.

I stared at my baby's innocent face. He was a good person born on a bad day. I wondered why he had not been born yesterday or tomorrow. Everyone who called to wish me well politely congratulated me before mentioning his tragic birth date. ""Babies come when they are supposed to come,"" I would automatically say back to them.

It wasn't until the dark, still moments of that night, after I had turned off the television and was staring out of the hospital window into the black, did my own words come back to me. The words danced around me arranging themselves in fragments of sense.

Babies come when they are supposed to come, I thought. This I know is true. I walked over to the bassinet where my baby was sleeping. Tears from my eyes fell onto his baby-blue blanket. I studied his tiny face, and in it, I saw goodness. I saw peace. I saw hope. Maybe babies born on September 11, 2001, were supposed to be born on that day. Maybe because it was a tragic day, other non-tragic things needed to happen. Maybe because it was a day when life was taken, life needed to be given. A day when innocence was lost, so innocence needed to be born. A day when sadness had befallen us, so happiness needed to whisper through. It was a day when hope had been stomped on, so new hope needed to surface.

Every pregnant woman spends nine months caressing her tummy and wondering. Wondering who is in there, wondering what they will be, what they will do. One thing all mothers wish for their children is that whoever they are, whatever they do, whatever they become, they will be good.

I began to realize my baby and all of the ones who joined him in being born on that day had a very special purpose. They were born to provide life, hope and goodness to a world on a day when it needed it most. Because on that day, life, goodness and hope had been taken. They were not born to replace anyone. That would be impossible.

But they were born to remember. When they are older, we mothers will see to it that they know, see and remember the faces of the lost. This will help to inspire them to go on for themselves and for others. When they are older, we will remind them of all of the bravery displayed that day. We will tell them that they displayed their own bravery that day, by having the courage to be born on a day when the world didn't even have the time to welcome them. We will thank them for coming. And we will tell them to go out and do good. Because that is why they were born.

©2002. Christine Pisera Naman. All rights reserved. Reprinted from Faces of Hope . No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the written permission of the publisher. Publisher: Health Communications, Inc., 3201 SW 15th Street, Deerfield Beach, FL 33442.