Mother recalls going into early labor on 9/11 after fleeing through Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel

Sept. 11 has always been a day of profoundly conflicting emotions for one former Long Island family.

On a day defined by unimaginable loss, Janet Kask was given the greatest gift of her life – her son.

Almost 25 years later, she and her son returned to the place where their extraordinary story began – the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel.

"All of a sudden, I feel nauseous," Kask said.

The last time she was there was Sept. 11, 2001, the most terrifying day of her life.

"We were admiring the towers on a beautiful, clear-blue-sky day," she said.

That morning, Kask, who was vice president of the New York Islanders at the time, was heading into Manhattan to pick up her husband one day after his heart surgery. She was eight months pregnant.

As she entered the tunnel, she had no idea New York was under attack.

"We were pretty much through, at that point, to the Manhattan side," Kask said.

Then traffic stopped and people came stampeding through.

"Running towards us, screaming, with smoke behind them," Kask said.

From car radio reports, drivers learned about the twin towers and the Pentagon. Pregnant and legally blind, Kask abandoned the car and tried to escape.

"It filled with debris, it filled with smoke, and the tunnel just got very dark and people were panicking," she said. "Every man for himself, get out the car and run."

Kask finally emerged and took shelter in an empty toll booth. A police officer got her to an ambulance, where she says an EMT told her she may have lost the baby.

"She said, 'I can't find a heartbeat. I can't detect any fetal movement,'" Kask said.

At the hospital, the doctors determined the baby was alive, but the trauma had sent Kask into early labor. Her husband, just out of heart surgery, somehow walked himself to Penn Station and made it to the delivery room.

"I still have asbestos in my hair, feet are wrapped in bandages from blisters from running," Kask said. "Peter still has things taped to his chest from his heart procedure."

Aidan Kask was born that day, one month early.

"We just considered him hope for the future and on our birth announcement we called Aidan 'our light at the end of the tunnel,'" Janet Kask said, calling her son "the one good thing that came about that day."

Peter Kask would live only five more years, dying of a rare cancer.

It wasn't until Aidan Kask was 10 years old that he began to understand just how extraordinary his birthday was.

"I had an assignment in school one day to write why we're special," he said.

Today, Aidan Kask is an engineer living in California. He and his mother return to New York not just to mark his birthday, but to honor the thousands who never got another one.

"Now it feels a little different celebrating," Aidan Kask said. "I couldn't imagine what it takes to make it through that day."

On a day forever remembered for what was lost, the Kasks also remember what was given, marked each year with solemn gratitude.