Let me tell you about flying with a baby. My child is sneaky. She had me convinced that all the anxiety leading up to our first flight was a bunch of garbage. My child was an angel. She happily nursed and napped the entire route to New York. People would smile as they passed us, commenting that they never would have guessed there was a baby on the plane.
Oh I was patting myself on the back feeling like Supermom.
And then we began our returning flight. I should have known what was in store for me when Reese peed everywhere while I changed her diaper in the airport, getting the whole back of her onesie soaked in pee. (Don't you hate that?) And I came to realize that I had no back up clothes whatsoever in my carry on. Well played, life, well played. Now I not only had the pleasure of being the person bringing a baby on a plane, but that infant would now smell like urine for the entirety of the flight.
My sweet pee pee princess pulled a 180 during our flight back to no-man's-land- Georgia. We had a window seat. And a nice lady was seated next to me. I was relieved. Because although I have no problem nursing in public, my 18 pound giant of a child wriggles her legs and climbs up the arms of our neighboring passengers, and it makes me a little more comfortable that a woman will be watching the antics of a squirmy nurser, rather than a man on his way to a business meeting.
My boobs are like fire hoses, once the water is turned on, watch out! It takes a while to slow it down. A strong let down and a highly distractible baby mix like oil and water. Every time an announcement was made over the loud speaker, Reese would pop her head up and around leaving me to hose down our neighbors 2 rows ahead of us.
She fell asleep on my chest, and I did my best to make us comfortable in our 18 inch square of personal space, and braced myself for a quiet 2 hour flight.
Well, all hell broke lose, people! She woke up and couldn't fall back asleep. She was stuck somewhere between half asleep and pissed off and there was nothing I could do. We had a full out melt down. She was standing on my lap, arching her back, pushing away from me, crying in rare form. Not one of the 17 toys I had stuffed in the diaper bag would distract this tired baby long enough to calm down.
I was mortified. Like, wanted to hide under my seat with my hand over her mouth, mortified. And then people had the audacity to start yelling across the aisles to each other about how they scored these "wonderful" seats. A lovely woman even had the nerve to turn around and ask me if I had a pacifier to give to my baby?
Talk about rude! I had to get myself in check before my middle finger went flying over the top of the seat. I didn't take the time to explain how my child wouldn't take a pacifier or bottle, and that we were traveling for the first time, and I was a nervous first time mom. Nope, I just shot her a look that could kill and we went on with the good times in 38F.
Just as home was close enough to touch, seriously, our wheels were 50 feet from touching down, we made an emergency swoop back into the air at what felt like 90 degrees. Apparently at the last moment our pilot realized the runway was not clear. So the fun continued for another 20 minutes.
You could hear the disappointment ring out all around us. Joy.
The good news is we eventually had to land. We eventually got home. And that sweet baby had a bubble bath and fell asleep before 7pm. But I am in no hurry to fly again any time soon.
Do you have any flying horror stories? Does traveling get easier with babies? Because Ohh emm gee am I tired.