Baby's First Flight

So. Many. Buttons.

Not feeling it on the way back. Daddy walked him around the plane.

This week we were lucky enough to take our first out-of-state trip as a family to Texas to visit my grandfather for his birthday. Add to that the fact that my grandfather is my only living grandparent. Add to that the fact that he was turning NINETY years old. And add to that the fact that he would be getting to meet his first and only great-grandchild for the first time—well this overall was an event not to be missed!

Hubby was definitely nervous about traveling with a baby, though, and I admit I wasn’t without worry myself, despite optimism that, “it would all work out in the end” and “it’s not like he’s the first baby to ever go on a trip.” What worried me most, however, was definitely the plane ride. From our home to Texas was only about three hours by plane, but that’s still three hours in a confined space with lots of germs, with air pressure changes and little ears and lots of people to be bothered by lots of potential crying. Not to mention getting through TSA alive.

Baby, and the universe, must have known I needed a solid on this one. As Hubby and I hurried toward the TSA line we realized we were heading for an entrance that was only for specific passengers, including those in wheelchairs. No mention of kids or babies. But the nice, female TSA agent guarding the line must have taken pity on the frantic mom and the smiling baby in her arms (half my length). As we turned to find the correct line entrance the agent called us back. “I’ll take you too.” Thus we were able to jump most of the TSA line and proceed to getting our multiple items on the conveyor belt: phones, shoes, jackets, two carry-ons, one diaper bag, a baggie with liquid infant Tylenol, and a mini cooler of frozen breastmilk. Hubby, of course, helped as much as he could while I held Baby in one arm and removed my shoes with the other. I was grateful that I didn’t have to ask to skip the human X-Ray station that I did NOT want to expose Baby to—they let me skip it automatically. When I told the next TSA agent guarding the conveyor belt that I was flying with breastmilk, he said it would need to be tested. I assumed as much and didn’t worry about the delay—except there was none. The scanning TSA agent opened my little cooler, breathed a sigh of relief, and placed it back on the belt. “Thank you for freezing it,” he said. “We don’t have to test it if it’s frozen. Makes our job a lot easier.” The TSA agent actually thanked ME when I was fully prepared to thank every one of them for letting us pass through with a baby, milk, and more. It was probably the smoothest trip through our local airport that I’d ever had.

My son also apparently wanted to ease my worries about his first flight. Though he fussed a little at the airport as he grew hungry, he didn’t struggle when I fed him under a nursing cape at our gate, propped awkwardly in my lap instead of on our usual nursing pillow that had been stowed in my checked luggage. The airport agent called me to his desk to review Baby’s birth certificate and give us a tag for our gate-to-gate car seat. My parents had paid for priority boarding, so we were the first people on the whole flight. And once settled in on a mostly empty plane (thankfully), I was able to finish feeding Baby until he fell asleep in my lap under the cape. He slept for TWO HOURS, lulled by the loud but monotonous hum of the plane. In fact, he awoke from his nap just as we began our descent, all refreshed and full of smiles for the passengers during landing, and everyone exiting the plane before us.

We even asked if there were any flight wings in honor of Baby’s first flight (an attendant managed to track down a pin for him) and we asked if he could meet the pilot and see the cockpit before we left. Everyone was super accommodating and full of smiles and compliments for our beautiful baby, who stared wide-eyed at the many buttons and controls he was not allowed to touch.

All-in-all, Baby’s first flight could not have gone any smoother. The trip back, however, was slightly longer and slightly bumpier in terms of obstacles. The TSA check still went by quickly—we had to wait in the regular line this time, but it was a short wait since the Texas airport we flew out of was fairly small. However, this time as Baby settled in to eat and nap on the plane, he decided to only sleep for about 40 minutes. The next two hours he was wide awake and not just in need of constant entertainment. He was FUSSY. He didn’t outright cry except for a couple of brief moments, but he fussed, growled, expressed his displeasure, and refused to smile for this plane passengers who smiled at him anyway. He wanted to be up, so we took turns walking him around the plane when the seatbelt sign was off. He wanted to eat, but sometimes didn’t want to nurse and sometimes didn’t want the bottle of milk I had quickly thawed under running water in the airplane’s bathroom. We tried feeding him fruit purée, which quelled him for a minute, but not long. And his many teethers, toys, and even his favorite plastic straw from Starbucks to chew on didn’t hold his interest for long. I was tired—Baby didn’t sleep well the night before and trying to calm the fussing was exhausting. I was also hungry since I hadn’t eaten much for breakfast after a stomachache the night before, and I missed both times the flight attendants came by with snacks for sale (the first time Baby was asleep on my lap. The second time I was thawing milk). I knew in my mind, however, that things could be worse. This flight was still shorter than most. Baby wasn’t screaming in pain. None of the passengers seemed bothered by his fussiness. And finally things started looking up. Hubby helped me get a snack from an attendant. Baby got the most calm when Hubby took over walking up and down the plane. The flight attendants shared their stories of young babies. And, the part I am most grateful for: our fairly full flight still somehow had an empty seat in our row, so after a few minutes I could spread out Baby’s toys, food, pacifier, blanket, and had a place to change his diaper easily. At last we made it home and had help from Hubby's family in order to get our luggage out of Baggage Claim.

I still don’t think Baby will be traveling far with us again any time soon—it’s stressful to put this much activity on someone so young, even when you have help. But I still have to say that my worries were mostly unfounded. We all survived this travel “battle” with minimal scars to show for it. And ultimately the minor stress and inconvenience was worth it to be able to see my grandfather’s smiling face when he met and carried his great-grandson. It was worth it to be at his 90th birthday party and surprise him with a speech, and feel his arms wrapped around me at the end as he whispered, “thank you” and “I love you” (a phrase he rarely says aloud, instead usually choosing, “God bless” to mean the same thing). It was worth it to be able to see my aunt and uncles, great aunts and cousins. To see my mom hold Baby and get to show him off to her relatives the way Hubby’s mom gets to at their local family parties. More on the whole Texas experience to come, but for now I just have to say, I’m so grateful that my baby can fly!

Great-Grandfather!

Mima (my mom)!