Traveling on a plane with a baby, just you and the baby, isn’t easy. Traveling on five planes in three days should be impossible. But I did it (no choice), and somehow survived. And I owe thanks to so many people, from the airline personnel to my fellow travelers. Without their help, we never would have made it out of one of the five airports we were in.
The worst possible scenario I can imagine that can occur when traveling with a four-month-old is dealing with a cancelled flight. I had no reason to think that would occur. My mom took the same flight path when he was born. But, lo and behold, we landed and I went to check to see where our connecting flight was leaving from.
I checked goodness knows how many times. The word never changed, a gate never showed up. It was two more flights to our final destination. By then, we had been traveling for a good 12 hours just to get across the country. My son was incredibly cranky by the end and I was stressed beyond belief.
My son, as it turns out, likes air travel even less than I did when I was his age. He refused to be comforted. REFUSED. Until he finally wore himself out and would sleep for an hour. And dealing with a stroller and car seat while balancing him and our luggage was even less fun.
So, I owe a bottomless pit of thanks for all the people, airline personnel and fellow travelers, who found themselves traveling with a baby from L.A. to Chicago to Boston to Philadelphia and then back to L.A. via Las Vegas. Your kind help, understanding, and willingness to help entertain an extraordinarily fussy baby is more than I could have asked for. I owe a deep debt of gratitude, and I surely would have had a breakdown if not for your kindness.
A little help goes a long way. And I’m thankful for all the help I received.