Here it is. My “that time I flew alone with my son while pregnant” post. This is something I have dreaded for a long time, as you can imagine. It was hard enough the previous three times when I had the support and physical buffer of my husband. Having that 2nd person meant that one of us could actually have a few moments at a time where we could stare off and dream of a more tranquil existence. Instead, when you fly alone with your son while you are pregnant, there is absolutely no time to yourself whatsoever. Every mere second of the flight and the layover were entirely spent entertaining and maintaining my child. Even when he slept, he did so when I was in the most uncomfortable position. One symptom I have had in this pregnancy is a pinched nerve which makes sitting for a long time really painful in my quads. So when he did fall asleep, having a 25lb hot little meatwad sprawled over me and being too afraid to shift my weight was kind of a nightmare. Plus, when he woke up, boy was there hell to pay. He actually stood on my legs, faced all of the rows behind me, and screamed the song of his people to the entire plane. As if they didn’t know where we were sitting, he made it clear to everyone that the child crying on the plane was sitting in seat 9a. And that his mother obviously hates him and everyone else.
Before this plane ride, I kept thinking about how to keep him contained in order to not be the worst person on the plane. I see those looks of the onboarding passengers when they see me with a child on my lap. There is a frantic look at the seat number, and a double-take to their own ticket to make sure that they do not have to sit next to us. I get it. I’ve been there. We’ve all been there. No one wants to sit next to the kid on the plane. But midway through my flight back to the midwest, my perspective on this situation changed drastically. I realized that I don’t give two shits how anyone else feels about me and my lap-riding child on this plane ride. I did not pay way to much to fly to Ohio, plus a checked bag fee, plus an upgrade to get the “premium main cabin seat” which claims to have more leg room to make sure that YOU are having a good flight. I have no obligation to make sure that you can sit quietly and sleep, even though it is 1pm and you are a grown-up that doesn’t need to take a nap. My only obligation, besides to sit with my seat in the upright position with my tray seat secured and my bag placed under the seat in front of me, is to sit back, relax and enjoy the flight. Those are the captain’s orders!
And while we are on the subject, where did this unspoken rule that no one can talk on an airplane come from? Sure, people carry on quiet chit chat with each other and there is always that stranger sitting next to you that tries to make friends, but for the most part, airplane rides are pretty quiet. On one leg of my trip, you could hear a pin drop (over the jet engines, that is). On that flight, my son was the ONLY child on the plane. I just felt like everyone was just waiting for him to flip out (which he did) and were stock piling their last moments of silence. It was oppressive.
When he did freak out, I would bust out all of the tricks to get him to calm down to no avail. I would pick him up and he would do that slinky thing that toddlers do where they effortlessly slide out of your arms. I would get him food and he would bat it away. I would try to get him to watch Thomas the Tank Engine and he was over it already (probably because it had been on loop since we got on the airplane). And then something happened on both plane rides. Women sitting in front of me thrusted me their devices. “Here,” they said. “Try this.” The first woman handed me her iPad that had a bug-squashing game queued up. “My kid loves this game,” she said, handing it to me frantically. And it was entertaining for me to play and for him to watch me play. The 2nd time, the woman (different woman, different plane ride) handed me her cell phone with her photo gallery open. “My cats,” she said. “I have seven cats. My nephew loves them.” That interaction was a little more confusing. So, you want me to scroll through pictures of your cats? When should I stop? When I see humans? This ploy also worked, but both efforts were short-lived and equally awkward. The game was nice but how long am I supposed to keep the iPad? The whole flight? Till he stops crying? What if he starts crying when I return it? Are you going to give it back? And let’s not overlook the woman with seven cats. SEVEN CATS. You’re telling me that she’s the expert on child-rearing? I’d argue probably not.
This is the part of my story that my mom reminds me that these people were just trying to be nice, and this is probably the case. But let’s not forget my perspective as the pregnant and alone traveler of the 18month old. These people weren’t helping me. They were helping themselves. Both of these people have husbands/male partners who were constantly giving me the passive aggressive side look. The man friend of cat lady ordered a few bloody marys in a tone that suggested he “really needed it”. Ok pal. Settle down. You might be the guy who got a seat in front of the crying child but I am the SINGLE PREGNANT MOTHER OF SAID CHILD. My flight is way harder than yours, in fact, it’s worse because I am the single pregnant mother of crying child who ALSO got stuck behind an alcoholic A-hole. So your lady friend has to overcompensate for your irritability by 1) not judging you for drinking at 12pm on a 2 hour flight and 2) making sure that my kid stops crying so you’re not in a bad mood the rest of the day. That is why I got all of the cat pictures, not because she didn’t want my son to cry. I see right through your plans, lady.
By the time we got home, I was completely spent. I hated everyone I saw, even the flight attendant who made sure to say goodbye to my “adorable little traveler!” Get outta my way lady. I still have to wrangle him in the stroller he hates, use the elevator downstairs to get our luggage, schlep it on over to the shuttle and try to get a stroller and luggage on board, and THEN convince my son to get strapped into just ONE MORE SEAT for the car ride home. It seemed like the traveling had no end in sight.
When we got home, he skipped inside the house and gave our dog a big hug. He seemed totally unphased by what we had just endured. And maybe it was the sight of him being so happy or realizing how tiny he really was, but all of the frustration washed away. I patted him on the head like a good doggy. “You were such a good boy,” I said. “I know you did the best you could.” We both did.
DailyDebs 