Adelyn sat in her dad's lap, looking out of the window at a world she'd never seen before, and she watched the ground disappear beneath her as the plane took off. Her eyes got wide at the sound of the roaring engine. We were sitting in the back thanks to Southwest's free-for-all, no-perks-for-parents boarding rules, and it was inevitably noisy, the sound of the plane trumping all others. Except for Adelyn's babbling. That I could still hear.
I don't think I could properly express how nervous I was about this weekend. As a parent I have a tendency to do that, get all worked up over the scheduling and logistics of everything. And I knew going into this weekend that I'd have to let go of it; there was nothing I could do but go with the flow and hope Adelyn wanted to go along with it.
I hate flying. Hate it. I used to love it, back when I lived in New York and flew about a dozen times in a six-month period. Back then flying meant I was going to see Jason. It was exciting, not scary. I'm not sure when this hatred of flying really sunk in, but it's been there for a few years now. I have to steady myself during take-off, work really hard to keep my thoughts from delving into the what-ifs and what-was-that-bump-obsessions. (Having a bouncing baby on your lap is a good distraction.)
The only thing I used to worry about when I traveled was Crohn's. Getting sick during a trip, finding the closest bathrooms, avoiding embarrassment and awkwardness sharing a room with someone else. Getting stuck in an airport for hours with a perpetual line for every toilet. These are the things people with Crohn's and Colitis worry about. That didn't even cross my mind during this trip, not because it's no longer a concern but because my worries are only occupied by Adelyn, her comfort and routine.
And somehow, even with a mother who takes every possible thing that could go wrong into consideration, Adelyn managed to defy every single one of my worries. She took every scenario I was stressing over and turned it into a sure-to-be memory, those moments where you know, while you're living them, that they'll stick with you forever. Watching Adelyn fall asleep on her dad's chest mid-flight, drool dripping down his shirt, his hand on her back while he drifted off, too--these are the things you always remember. (Adelyn has not fallen asleep like this, on our chests, since she was a newborn. Something about the closeness to us, or the white noise of the flight, brought the newborn out of her.)
This weekend worked out better than I ever could have imagined. That's not to say it was all easy--our flight got delayed nearly four hours on the way home. Two of those hours were spent speed-walking around the airport with Adelyn in the stroller, desperately hoping she would fall asleep, evil-eyeing every single child who screamed or squealed anywhere near her the second she drifted off. But once we got on the plane everything was fine. She fell asleep once again on her dad's chest, after gaggles of strangers remarked on her calmness.
The rehearsal and rehearsal dinner went off without a hitch. Adelyn slept in her stroller while we all ate and celebrated my big sister's impending wedding. The next day she babbled all throughout the ceremony, and when she started getting fussy ten minutes in Jason walked her over to the side, where she promptly fell asleep in his arms while her aunt and new uncle said their "I do's."
In a span of two days Adelyn slept through the night in a beautiful hotel; she played her part perfectly in her second family wedding; she saw Delaware and rode through its beautiful hills and napped while her family and some of her new family ate and drank at a local brewery; she watched her aunt change into her wedding dress and then her sari for the reception; she made new friends, adult and her-size; she strolled around the airport with her grandpa, hysterically laughing at his Donald Duck impressions; she sat beside her mom, dad and grandpa in Philedalphia while they scarfed down Philly Cheese Steaks.
She had an amazing time, and her mom learned a valuable lesson. This weekend wasn't about me or my life as a mother, it was about my sister, Rachel, and her new husband, Neel. But I still walked away with a newfound attitude on parenting. Jason, Adelyn and I can do whatever is thrown our way. And Adelyn will happily oblige.
After our first flight landed in Philadelphia, the woman sitting in front of us leaned over her seat to meet Adelyn. She was a mother, too, on her way to drop off her daughter at college. She told me Adelyn was gorgeous and the most well-behaved baby she'd ever seen on a flight. I told her that I'd been happily surprised that it had gone so well, that she'd giggled and napped the whole time.
"What do you expect?" she said. "She had two hours of undivided time with her parents."
That, right there, was the beauty of this weekend. The TV wasn't on while we fed her her bottle, as it usually is. I wasn't working while she napped, or desperately trying to load the dishwasher while she jumped in her Jumperoo. We just were. Dad, mom, and baby.
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