I prepared myself for an embarrassing flight when the woman next to me asked me to pay for a second seat, blatantly citing my baby belly as justification. However, the pilot’s audacious reply? Not only did it silence her, but it also made me believe in people again. A cold feeling came into my stomach, where my small unborn baby was snuggled, right as I was ready to fasten my seatbelt. I was frightened. It was intimidating to consider carrying a toddler while traveling 30,000 feet in the air. My name is Jennifer, and I am a 28-year-old soon-to-be mother. I never would have guessed how this flight would alter the way I view people.
I gasped in an attempt to slow my pounding heart. After a traumatic divorce, this flight was meant to be a fresh start, but in the moment, it felt more like I was plummeting into the unknown. I looked around the cabin, observing other travelers get comfortable in their seats and get ready for the trip. A mother comforted her weeping toddler, a businessman worked away on his laptop, and a couple smiled and talked to one other. Suddenly, ordinary scenes seemed so alien to me. Unconsciously, my hand went to my left hand’s vacant ring finger. I could still see the tan line, a somber reminder of the life I was giving up.
A pile of paperwork and broken vows marked the end of a five-year marriage. And here I was, pregnant and alone, on a plane headed back to my hometown with little more than a hazy promise of a job from an old acquaintance. The voice of the flight attendant crackled over the loudspeaker, startling me out of my reverie, “Last call for boarding.” I took a deeper seat and waited for the moment to come when my row would fill up. My stomach twisted at the notion of striking up a conversation with inquisitive people and explaining my predicament.
Alternatively, it could have been simply morning sickness, an ongoing issue these days. I was completely alone after going through a heartbreaking divorce, having lost my parents in a car accident when I was very young. I felt the oppressive weight of soon-to-be motherhood pressing down on me. “You are capable of doing this, Jen,” I whispered, clutching my bump with one hand. “For the infant.” I took a deeper seat and waited for the moment to come when my row would fill up. My stomach twisted at the notion of striking up a conversation with inquisitive people and explaining my predicament.
Alternatively, it could have been simply morning sickness, an ongoing issue these days. I was completely alone after going through a heartbreaking divorce, having lost my parents in a car accident when I was very young. I felt the oppressive weight of soon-to-be motherhood pressing down on me. “You are capable of doing this, Jen,” I whispered, clutching my bump with one hand. “For the infant.” I took a deeper seat and waited for the moment to come when my row would fill up.