emotions

Last week was highly emotional. To go from normal life to hopping on a plane to visit my dying grandpa, to being with dear friends who live far away, to dealing with difficult relationships—is it any wonder I’ve been crying at the drop of a hat? But it’s strange, all of this crying, because I’m really not a crier.

I was holding it together fine, mostly, until security in San Jose. I was flying home with baby b., and since security at O’hare had been really smooth, I was completely unprepared for them to make such a fuss over my backpack full of baby goods. Having just spent a full day with my family—which is another blogpost entirely—to say that I was feeling exhausted and raw would be an understatement. I’ve got my shoes off and I’m holding on for dear life to my 19-pound bundle of joy while his stroller and backpack go through the scanner.

The friendly-enough looking security woman says, “You need to make this formula up now. You can’t bring this thermos on the plane.”
“He’s not hungry now. And it’s a four-and-a-half hour flight.”
“It doesn’t matter. You can’t bring this.”
“Um. Well, how will I make formula for the baby?”
“That’s really not my problem, ma’am.” She says, dumping the warm water out of the thermos.
That’s when I start bawling.
“You can buy a bottle of water at the gate,” the security woman is trying to be helpful now.
“He – won’t – drink – it,” I sob. “He – only – drinks – it – warm.”

I finally move past security, and a helpful woman behind me tells me I can get hot water at Starbucks and mix it with the bottled water to make it the right temperature. Now, here’s the problem—I cannot stop crying. I try. I tell myself it’s no big deal—look! Hot water! But it was too late. And it wasn’t really about the water.

So there I am, walking through the airport, crying my eyes out. Not quiet tears rolling down my cheeks, but sobs. And I have no time. I need to get to the gate. I am mortified, walking through this airport, but I also don’t really care. At this point, I’m just trying to survive until I get home. So I stop at Starbucks. (God bless that barista! I just held out my thermos, no words, and she filled it halfway and didn’t even look at me funny. I’m guessing I’m not the first empty-thermos Mom she’s met.) Then I stop to buy a sandwich for on the plane. I was starting to get it together at this point, until a nice gentleman insisted I go ahead of him in line. He had a little one at home, he said, and would hate to think of his wife waiting and waiting in line at the airport with the baby. And it was such a kind, human thing to do that I started crying again. The sandwich lady asked me what kind of cheese I wanted, and I just shook my head for no cheese because I couldn’t form words, but I really, really wanted cheese. Any kind of cheese. I felt like a complete idiot. Some people stared at me; others looked away, clearly embarrassed for me. I was embarrassed for myself and just praying I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew.

I finally got to the gate and called my husband, who felt terrible for me. (Since I was crying, and he knows I’m not a crier.) The conversation was brief, and my tears were at least the quiet kind. But you know what happened next? An older couple sitting near me looked over and immediately got down on the floor (where baby b. was sitting, happy to be free from his stroller) and asked if they could help me. The woman offered me a Kleenex, which I gladly accepted. She put her arm around me and asked me about the baby. And she didn’t stop there. She started telling me about her grandchildren and played peek-a-boo with baby b., to his great delight. She didn’t even ask why I was upset, she just stepped in and offered support. I cannot tell you how much that interaction meant to me.

I was alone in that airport, and felt like the world had caved in on top of me. Strangers reached out a hand, and I grabbed on. And getting on that miserable, delayed-at-the-gate-with-a-squirmy-baby-on-my-lap flight, I was grateful to not be alone.

How do you respond when someone near you gets really emotional? What if it’s a complete stranger? I’ll admit that I probably would have walked right on by myself that afternoon at the airport. Well, not now. But before? Absolutely.