Kiss Your Miracle

I don’t consider myself an overly emotional person. Sure I get teary-eyed over things – when a friend is going through something difficult or when I find myself in a crisis. But I don’t usually get worked up over small stuff. Friday though, was an exception. I had a meltdown over something minor. Complete with big fat tears rolling down my cheeks. And it happened on an airplane packed with people.

We were about to leave O’hare Airport in Chicago for Orlando after spending the week with my family. And yeah, I was a little sad to say goodbye to everyone, but that’s not why I lost it. I actually started to cry over our seats on the plane. When we booked our tickets online we made sure to get two seats together near the front. But somehow when we checked in, we were given new seats in the very last row. And once we boarded I realized we had two inner seats; the third seat on the aisle would be taken by someone else. With as much as I typically get up to pace around with Sky during an average flight, this meant I’d constantly be asking that person to get up and let me by. “Maybe I can just ask him to switch with us,” I said to Adam as the plane filled up. “Or maybe that seat will stay empty,” I added hopefully. Sky was already fussy and kept trying to squirm out of my arms. “Oh,” said Adam, looking out the window. “What?” I asked. “Well, we can’t see out.” I leaned over to the window and saw nothing but a big, silver jet engine. Normally that wouldn’t be a major issue, but my pregnancy nausea is definitely made worse by motion and focusing on the horizon is what usually keeps me from actually throwing up. “Let me know if you want me to check your carry-on,” announced a flight attendant cheerfully over the speaker. “We have a completely full flight today folks!”

As more people crowded onto the plane the temperature seemed to rise. Behind us, flight attendants loaded drinks into their cart, talking loudly as they worked. Our row of seats backed up to the bathrooms. Would that icky plane-bathroom-smell be stuck in my nose the entire flight? Suddenly I had a vision of finally getting Sky to fall asleep in my arms only to see her startle awake with the first slam of the bathroom door. Adam sat next to me, calmly eating a bagel sandwich. “I think I’m going to have a panic attack,” I told him, and in a flash, big, hot tears filled my eyes and spilled over. He glanced at me and then looked back again, stopping mid-bite. “What’s wrong?” he asked in surprise. I couldn’t speak. Skylar was starting to cry at that point, so I jumped up with her and walked into the little space between the two bathrooms to try to compose myself. This flight is only three hours, I reminded myself. I have plenty of friends who’ve flown internationally with babies and they all survived somehow. But I still couldn’t stop crying.

A minute later an older man took the aisle seat in our row. When Adam asked if he would mind sitting by the window, the man explained that he had two young children sitting up in the front and asked if we would mind switching seats with them. “Come on,” Adam said to me joyfully. We grabbed our stuff and headed forward to a pair of seats in a row by themselves on the other side of the plane, with a clear view out the window. I sat down and cried some more. Not because I wasn’t grateful, but because I’d even started crying in the first place over something so small that quickly resolved itself anyway.

My mom’s favorite piece of advice in any given situation has always been, “Let a little time go by. See what happens.” And there’s wisdom in that. It’s just not easy to do, especially when your body’s full of raging pregnancy hormones.