- I was flying alone with my 2-year-old, and she was overtired and crying.
- The gate agent said I needed to calm her down before boarding.
- A woman behind me carried all my stuff so I could hold my child and comfort her.
It took a moment to register the gate agent’s words over the high-pitched wails of my 2-year-old daughter. One look at her crossed arms told me I hadn’t misunderstood. She wasn’t letting us onto the flight.
Stunned, I remained frozen in place.
“She’s not getting on the plane until she calms down,” the gate agent repeated. Her mouth curled in disgust at my daughter’s tear-strewn cheeks.
She was tired, and I knew she’d be fine on the plane
On our way home from where we lived in Maui to visit my parents in Washington State, my daughter had hit her threshold. She was tired of being confined to her umbrella stroller in the stuffy terminal. But she loved airplanes. Once we settled into our seats, I knew she’d smile again. When the announcement for families with young children to pre-board was made, I rushed to the front of the line.
I was 32, lost, and struggling as a new mom. However, I considered myself a pro at traveling as a solo parent. A small victory I clung to.
Though I was still together with my daughter’s father at the time, I often felt like a single mother. Our relationship was fraught. He usually didn’t join us when we flew to visit family during the holidays and summer vacations. I craved a supportive, loving partnership to share parental duties, but I also longed for peace and respite from the fighting.
So I’d learned to navigate my daughter’s bulky car seat, luggage, diaper bag, and stroller by myself, proving I could bear the weight of it all without assistance from anyone. Even if it left my hair disheveled, and beads of sweat smudged my mascara.
I tried to tell the gate agent she would calm down
We’d taken our first transpacific flight when my daughter was 8 months old. I’d noticed nearby passengers’ tense, wary looks as we shuffled down the aisle. When the wheel hit the tarmac six hours later, those same people cooed, “What a good baby,” marveling that she’d never cried.
Bristling, I met their compliments with a tight smile. I really wanted to reply: So, babies that did fuss were somehow bad?
Now, according to the gate agent in an Aloha-print polyester button-up blocking my path to the jetway, the answer was, in fact, yes.
“Once I gate-check the stroller and carry her to our seats, she’ll be fine,” I pleaded.
Without glancing at me, the gate agent waved the person behind me around. The beep of their ticket scanning caused my throat to constrict. Perhaps sensing her mother was on the verge of a breakdown, the intensity of my toddler’s tantrum kicked up a notch. I could feel everyone’s watchful gaze boring into us. My carry-ons, diaper bag, daughter, me — we were all in the way. It was a spectacle. My face started to break.
“Please,” I implored once more.
Another mom came to my rescue
A hand grasped my elbow. Expecting to see a security guard ready to escort us away, I turned. Instead, there stood a woman in her late 30s with warm eyes.
“Let me help you,” she said. I thought this stranger might be a saint.
Too overwhelmed by her unexpected kindness, I nodded wordlessly. The woman removed my diaper bag from my arm and swung it over hers. Working together in tandem, she grabbed the handles of my carry-on. I unbuckled my daughter from her stroller, scooping her close to my chest. Her shrieks turned to muffled whimpers. In two swift moves, the woman broke down the stroller. Reaching to take it from her, she waved away my hand. “I got everything.”
She turned to her husband and two older children further down the line and told them she’d meet them on the plane.
She was not a saint but another mother.
With her by my side, I walked past the annoyed sigh of the scowling gate agent onto the plane and to our seats. Minutes earlier, the burning humiliation I’d felt gave way to immense gratitude. “Thank you,” I managed to choke out as she embraced me before continuing to her row to wait for her family.
It was just me and my daughter again, who was content peering out the window. Only now, after this woman’s selfless act, I didn’t feel like we were so alone in the world.
