This past week DJ and I flew to the Midwest to see my extended family. He met his great-grandmothers, great-aunts, a few cousins, and spent time with Grandma and Granddad. He was a hit, of course, and I got some great pictures.
It’s a trip I planned before he arrived, but as it drew closer, I dreaded the idea of taking him on a plane, and it being just the two of us, no bouncy seats, car seats, play mats or cribs, for several hours. Thanks to the exorbitant air fares, non-stop flights were out of the question, as was purchasing a seat for his car seat. So it was going to be me holding him through the airports and both flights.
Thankfully, all went well, for the most part. We traveled at off times (Tuesday afternoon, Friday morning), so the planes were half-full, which meant a pair of seats to ourselves on each flight.
There were some bumps. He became very fussy right before our first flight took off. Nursing calms him down, but I was trying to wait until we actually took off, since it helps babies' ears adjust to the pressure. As he completely lost it and started screaming, the pilot announced that we’d have to sit on the tarmac for an extra ten minutes since there were too many planes in the airport’s air space. That’s when I about lost it. We didn’t have to wait the full ten minutes, thankfully, and he calmed down.
On the way home, he cried all the way through the security line, drawing many looks from our fellow travelers. I knew what they were thinking: “Please don’t let them be on our plane.”
Would I make the trip again? Not just the two of us. It wasn't the destination, but the traveling. Next time, we'll make sure Tim is with us.