Jul 9, 2013
rifle, part I
Before we took off, Lincoln was crying and fussing and arching his back and kicking his legs in a manner that made holding him extremely difficult. I tried having him look out the window, sitting up, over the shoulder, rocking, laying, playing with toys, giving him his pacifier, trying to get him to nurse... he wasn't having ANY of it.
I had multiple little prayers that flight. One of which was for my seat-mate. I was hoping those little ear phones he had in were drowning out the screams. I also prayed the empty seat between us was enough distance to not notice me ripping off my shirt to get this bucking-baby of mine to nurse.
My other little prayer was for the guy in first class who kept turning around giving me this annoyed look like I was incompetent to comfort my own baby. (Did I mentioned I was the first row behind first class? Perfect place for a new baby). I hoped one day he would have to join us commoners in coach and be smooshed between two crying babies; one of which would throw up on him and the other might bite him.
And my last prayer was for Lincoln. That he would calm down or at least the next flight wouldn't be nearly as difficult and challenging as this one. Well, he didn't calm down. And when we finally landed, I quickly strapped Lincoln back in his carrier and bolted off that plane never to look back at the passengers glaring me down (although I did feel the stares at the back of my head). HOWEVER! My prayer was answered and our final flight to Colorado was extremely peaceful. Not only that, I had two people tell me after we landed how he's well-behaved and surprised he didn't cry. I had my proud mommy moment, but it only lasted for a second. I quickly realized his silence was probably due to his worn out vocal cords.