Traveling back to Chicago with Madeline did not go quite as smoothly as the previous trip. Perhaps it was the time of day, the extra flight that was required, or just that all the commotion and disruption to her sleep and eating habits had thrown her off schedule. Our timing just seemed a little off for feeding, changing and getting on and off planes. Explosive bowel movements occurred, outfits needed to be changed. Luckily, people love little babies, and no one seemed to mind a few whimpers and cries here and there.
However, there was one event that left Mommy's nerves shattered. While in route from Denver to Chicago, Maddy woke up needing to be fed. While feeding her, it became clear from the smell wafting out of her that she now needed a change. While I knew this need was imminent, she was now sleeping soundly and I was hesitant to move her. My husband reminded me that the people around us probably didn't appreciate the smell, so I steeled myself against the fact that she would probably wake up and scream, set my mind up for another herculean feat of changing a baby in a tiny airplane bathroom, and set out for the back of the plane, diaper, wipes, changing pad and baby in hand.
Once in the bathroom, I was able to get Madeline on top of the toilet and on the changing pad, and myself crammed up against the bathroom door. It was at this point when the captain come on to PA system to announce we were hitting turbulence, and asked everyone to take their seats. Before he is done with the announcement, the plane is bopping around, and Maddy is putting her full force into announcing her displeasure at this diaper change. It takes all of my resolve and patience to change her diaper, get her onesie buttoned up, and get her back in my arms without screaming like a baby myself. Maddy grabs a large chunk of my hair and holds on for dear life, and I try to find anyway I can to soothe her, while standing up braced against the turbulence in the airplane bathroom. I'm dreading leaving the bathroom, knowing that the entire back portion of the plane now thinks I've performed cruel and unusual torture on my daughter. With her pants shoved in one pocket and her socks in the other (getting the onesie on was all I could muster) I pull my things together and step out on the bathroom. Luckily, there were no annoyed glares to greet me - only helpful flight attendant, understanding passengers and a very concerned husband ready to help Mommy finish the very long day.
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