I’ve been privileged to be able to travel overseas with our daughter. The first time was when she was eight months old—it was a long haul flight to Philadelphia, with a layover in Narita and Detroit. I read all the testimonies I could about flying with your kid but nothing could prepare me for the physical endurance traveling required from you.
I remember getting my daughter ready for the flight while she was still asleep on our bed. I was careful not to wake her while I slipped leggings over her onesie and gingerly inserted her arms into a cardigan.
You also enter into a covenant with your partner when you decide to fly together as a family. Covenants are crucial in any relationship, but the one you make when you travel echoes the one that you had when you embarked on childbirth and infant care together. Taking care of a baby in a small, compressed area is a throwback to the newborn days. Expect no rest, to only sleep when the baby sleeps, and to take turns eating.
This is the time you worry about the people in the plane. No matter how many times friends tell you not to care, you end up still caring. On the plane, my husband and I learned how to carefully lower our daughter into a bassinet without waking her up, how to mourn the end of watching as many in-flight movies as we can, and how to change a dirty nappy in a cramped airplane bathroom.
Read more at Inquirer.net
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