It was my first time. My nerves were a wreck, causing me to sweat in the middle of January. Doing something so new and risky made me edgy but the fact that my children were with me made the stress level escalate. The initial stages made me uncomfortable, and I had no idea of what awaited over the course of the next twenty-four hours.
When I boarded the plane I was met by Greg, a handsome attendant whose demeanor was more than one could expect. His tenderness and professionalism was appreciated and so very needed. The way he smiled—an obvious attempt to calm my nerves—was refreshing. He helped the children and me to our seats, taking care that we were all comfortable before continuing his duties. My nerves were actually beginning to calm.
I settled into my seat, although I silently fussed about the confined space between the rows. Every few minutes Greg would walk by and smile and other times he’d ask if I was okay. The more he checked on me, the more relaxed I became.
My oldest son was three at the time and my youngest was six months. I placed the baby’s carrier in my lap. A few minutes before the flight was to take off, Greg walked by again. I called his name and he came back to the isle, standing right beside my seat.
“Where do I put the baby?” I asked. I went on to explain that when making flight arrangements I was told that there would be accommodations for my baby and that infants are not charged. Greg explained that the airlines provided what I needed and the carrier would be placed in the back until the flight landed.
“I’ll go the airline carrier.” He said with the faithful smile I had come to rely on. I held the baby in my arms and handed him the carrier to store.
Greg was gone for what seemed like forever and then I saw him appear in the doorway. I didn’t have my glasses on (I only need them for driving) but what I thought I was seeing could not be for my baby. As he moved closer I was praying he would walk past us, but he didn’t. He stood; his arms extended indicating that I was to take his offering.
