As many of us sit and reflect today on the 11th anniversary of 9/11, most of us can easily recall where we were and what we were doing at the precise moment when we heard the news that America was under attack. And while the events of that day impacted us all in one way or another, many of the victims who somehow managed to survive the attack on the World Trade Center are still feeling negative effects to this day -- even if they were babies in their mothers' wombs at the time.

A new study has found that pregnant women who suffered PTSD after 9/11 passed the trauma on to their children. Since there were so many reported cases of expectant moms experiencing trauma after 9/11, researchers at the Traumatic Stress Studies Division at the Mount Sinai Medical Center in New York decided to try and find out if the stress of the day's events might somehow impact their babies.

Randy Scott was on the 84th floor of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001 when the plane hit. His three daughters and his wife assumed he'd died instantly, but a year ago, they received a note Randy wrote that he'd let fly from the office window after the attack. The note is being touted by the museum curator as one of the most powerful 9/11 mementos to be included in the National September 11 Memorial and Museum -- the seven words Randy wrote convey such a succinct, sad, and touching message. And now, after 10 years of not knowing how Randy died, his family has an answer. The note read:

This morning, on September 11, many of us reflect. I think about where I was 11 years ago today when the first plane hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center at 8:46 a.m. This morning, I rode a creaky subway to work, my thoughts consuming me. As I meandered my way through the humid tunnels and up toward a buzzing Times Square, I passed six middle-aged men wearing Army uniforms. I emerged onto the street, my cheeks graced by the cool hints of fall, picked up my iPhone, and called someone that matters very much to me.

We dated for almost three years. During that time, he spent ten months or so in Afghanistan. A staff sergeant in the Army, it was his second tour there. Because of what happened this day 11 years ago, this amazing man I feel fortunate to know, his life, the lives of his friends and family, and so many of his peers, will forever be changed. 

The phone rang three times, and then he answered. "Thank you for your service," I said.

"Never forget." Every 9/11 I hear this over and over again. "Never forget" -- as if I could if I wanted to! This directive continues to baffle me, year after year.

I wish I could forget the morning I heard a loud crash from the other side of my office, just blocks up the street from the World Trade Center. I wish I could forget seeing that second plane smash directly into the second tower, the sinking fear when I realized the first collision wasn't an accident but an attack, then the sight of the first tower collapsing, a sight that literally drew me to my knees with despair. I wish I could forget the confusion, not knowing what would come next and whether it was safe for me to walk home. And the smell. How I long for the smell to fade from my memory.

But there are some things that I want to remember.

I have to admit I'm saddened by the run-up to September 11th this year. Just a year ago we were caught up in the hoopla over the 10th anniversary of 9/11. Today is like the polar opposite. It's as if this was just another fall week. There's a quiet we in America haven't had about this day in, well, 11 years.

One decade and one year after September 11, 2001, we may not have forgotten the tragic attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, the plane that went down in that Pennsylvania field. We can't forget. And yet, the quiet is unsettling, isn't it?

I have been wondering if it's because we don't know what to say. So I looked around for the quotes about September 11th that say it for us.

For most of us, September 11, 2001 is seared into our brains so deeply we can't forget a minute. But as horrifying as the actual day was, the days and weeks that followed were equally bewildering as though we had broken ground on a new way of life and we were just learning how to exist in it.

Were we allowed to laugh? And if so, how much? What was funny and what wasn't? I was working in television PR at the time and I remember thinking everything we did was so shallow. For months it was hard for me to work when so many people had died. The world felt insane.

Those first couple days were dark and quiet, but then life started to return, slowly but surely. Here are some of those moments:

Chasing a dream — that’s what I was doing in New York City in 2001, fresh out of college, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about putting my brand spankin’ new degree in English to use on somebody’s magazine staff. I’d had my daughter in the first semester of my sophomore year, so I kind of shot myself in the foot when it came to being a candidate for the high-velocity internships that other kids in my field were getting. Even though there were no Starbucks runs and copy machine masterminding for me at Vibe or Women’s Wear Daily, my mom and Nana were steady cheerleading, and encouraged me to head to the City of Dreams to look for a job in journalism. I could leave my baby girl with them for a week or two so I could make some much-needed contacts, they said. I smothered them with kisses, packed an arsenal of stilettos, and hauled my little Honda Civic up the familiar route on the New Jersey Turnpike, Brooklyn-bound to stay with family.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I wasn't at home watching in horror as the news unfolded on TV or leaving work and streaming through the streets with mobs of other bewildered New Yorkers. I was racing downtown in a taxi to cover the attacks.

The subways had already been shut down, so I had no choice but to hail a cab. When I told the driver where I wanted to go, he put his head down on the steering wheel for a full 30 seconds and seemed to be praying.

"Okay, Miss," he finally said quietly.

The air was filled with the piercing sound of sirens -- more sirens than I'd ever heard in my life. A thick plume of black smoke wafted over the East River. We were stuck in a massive traffic jam with countless ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars. It was sheer mayhem.