Before Brody, flying for me meant I could pack the night before and be ready to go the next day!

Things are a little different now.

About a week before our flight to Arizona I started packing a suitcase for Brody and myself. Seventy-five pounds worth of clothes, toiletries, and an extra feeding machine later it was exactly 24 hours before our departure from Omaha.

As I was continuing to pack and making sure I had my boarding pass on my phone and my ID in my wallet, an uneasy feeling took over. Brody doesn’t have a passport or other form of picture ID – how is he supposed get through security?

As any new and frantic mother would do, I went straight to Google: “How do infants show identification for flight”. O.K., easy enough, all we needed to bring was his birth certificate.

But there was one minor problem with that… my 4 month old baby didn’t have a birth certificate.

When I delivered Brody, he was in the NICU for 2 weeks and in between learning how to feed my cleft baby and working his new feeding machine, it had slipped my mind to order his birth certificate. I had packed an extra feeding machine, notified Brody’s home nurse that we were going to be gone, and even got a car seat lined up for when we arrived in Arizona. How am just now thinking about how Brody would get on the plane without any identification?

FYI (and a hard-learned lesson by me): If you don’t have a birth certificate, all you need is some sort of document that shows your child’s name and birth date.

While changing Brody’s diaper the next morning (which was Fly Day or more commonly referred to as F Day in my worrisome mind), his G-button caught my attention. Great, another major detail I somehow overlooked. Cue the next mini panic attack.

Was there any special care for flying with a child who has a G-button? Was the balloon inside his stomach going to expand like a bottle of shampoo would?

I called the hospital where the G-button procedure took place and they advised me that nothing special needed to be done with his G-button and he was fine to fly.

The entire morning Brody had been fussy, Chris was working, and I was in charge of getting Brody and my stuff out to the car. Eight trips to the car later it was time to pick Chris up. Brody slept on the car ride to the airport and the moment we stepped foot inside, the crying began.

THIS WAS IT. HE WAS GOING TO CRY THE ENTIRE 3-HOUR FLIGHT TO ARIZONA.

Or so I thought.

He cried for 5 minutes while we checked in and that was it. Was this too good to be true?

We got through security with me wearing Brody in my Baby Bjorn. Once we reached our gate, I thought it was a good opportunity to change Brody’s diaper since the restrooms in planes aren’t exactly baby-friendly.

I’ve changed a thousand or more of Brody’s diapers and am always prepared for him to pee on me during a wiping, but I let my guard down.

I was covered, or more accurately described as ‘drenched’, in baby pee.

As we boarded the flight my anxiety was through the roof and I smelled like a combination of formula and pee. I was about to be the passenger on the plane with the screaming infant.

I fed Brody immediately after boarding the plane and half of his bottle spilled all over him. Great, we’re both drenched at this point. He was about to lose it, I could tell! I took his formula-covered sweater off and he fell right asleep before making a peep.

He slept the entire flight.

Why is it that throughout Brody’s life I have always expected the worst? I claim to be his biggest advocate and number one fan yet I am always filling myself with negative thoughts and anxiety.