I was 34 weeks pregnant when my husband and I boarded a flight home after my father’s heart attack. I thought the worst part of our trip was behind us.I was wrong. And when the captain made an unexpected announcement before we landed, I was certain something terrible had happened to my baby.
Earlier that week, Dad had collapsed while watering his tomatoes. My sister, Rachel, found him and called an ambulance. Dad was unconscious when Daniel and I arrived. The doctors couldn’t promise he would recover.
He managed a smile. By the following afternoon, he was complaining about the coffee.
Beside his bed, I described the crib Daniel had assembled backward. I’d chosen our daughter’s name, I said, but wouldn’t tell him until he woke.
On the third morning, his eyes opened.
“You look terrible,” he whispered.
“Nice to see you, too.”
I wanted to stay, but he squeezed my hand and made me promise to return with his granddaughter.
He managed a smile. By the following afternoon, he was complaining about the coffee.
“Go home,” he told me. “You’ve got somebody else to worry about.”
I wanted to stay, but he squeezed my hand and made me promise to return with his granddaughter.
My doctor had cleared me to fly, and until then, the pregnancy had been uneventful. Still, a dull ache had settled across my lower back that morning. I blamed the hospital chairs.
Daniel didn’t like the idea of traveling again so soon.
I had barely slept in three nights, and my legs ached from standing beside Dad’s bed. It was easy to explain away one more discomfort.
Daniel didn’t like the idea of traveling again so soon.
“Want me to find a wheelchair?” he asked at the airport.
“I’m pregnant, not made of glass.”
“I know. I’m still allowed to worry.”
“I said I’d be there. Stop changing things without asking me.”
We boarded behind a man in a navy suit who was speaking sharply into his phone.
“I said I’d be there. Stop changing things without asking me.”
A woman beside him touched his elbow, clearly uncomfortable.
“Please stop,” she whispered.
She took out her phone and began typing.
He ignored her.
She took out her phone and began typing.
“We’ll make it,” she said.
Finally, he hung up without answering.
Across the aisle sat an older woman named Teresa. She offered me a peppermint and asked whether this was our first baby.
I forgot about him once we found our seats.
Across the aisle sat an older woman named Teresa. She offered me a peppermint and asked whether this was our first baby.
When I nodded, she smiled at Daniel.
“Then you’re about to discover a whole new kind of tired.”
For the first hour, everything seemed ordinary. I watched part of a cooking show, ate the crackers Daniel had bought, and texted Rachel.
HE’S ALREADY COMPLAINING ABOUT THE PORTIONS.
She sent a picture of Dad gripping a coffee cup.
HE’S ALREADY COMPLAINING ABOUT THE PORTIONS, she wrote.
I laughed. Then a sharp pain crossed my lower back.
I shifted sideways. A few minutes later, it happened again.
“Are you okay?” Daniel asked.
I went to the bathroom, where another wave left me bent over the sink.
“Probably. She’s been kicking all morning.”
But the next pain made me grip the armrest. I checked the clock.
Seven minutes. Then five.
I told myself I was counting wrong. Knowing what contractions meant was different from feeling them up here.
I went to the bathroom, where another wave left me bent over the sink. On my way back, I had to stop and hold the top of an empty seat.
He flagged down a flight attendant named Olivia.
Daniel saw my face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think I need some water.”
He flagged down a flight attendant named Olivia.
She crouched beside me. “Are you feeling faint?”
“Can you tell me how far apart the pains are?”
“No. Just cramping.”
“How far along?”
“Thirty-four weeks.”
Her expression changed.
“Can you tell me how far apart the pains are?”
“I’m going to ask if there’s a medical professional aboard.”
Before I could answer, another one hit. Daniel counted quietly until I could breathe again.
“I’m going to ask if there’s a medical professional aboard,” Olivia said.
I caught her sleeve.
“Please don’t scare everyone.”
“My priority is making sure you’re safe.”
He asked about the pain, the baby’s movements, and whether I felt pressure.
A man near the back answered the announcement. He introduced himself as Ramon, a paramedic traveling home, and knelt beside me.
He asked about the pain, the baby’s movements, and whether I felt pressure. Then he asked Olivia to contact the medical team on the ground.
“Am I in labor?” I whispered.
“I think you are.”
“The nursery isn’t finished, her clothes aren’t washed, and the car seat’s still in its box.”
“No. I still have six weeks.”
“I know.”
“The nursery isn’t finished, her clothes aren’t washed, and the car seat’s still in its box.”
Ramon held my gaze.
“None of those things matters right now. Only you and your baby do.”
“We’re almost at our destination. Why can’t we keep going?”
The captain announced a diversion to the nearest suitable airport.
A few people murmured. Someone sighed loudly.
Then a man behind us said, “We’re almost at our destination. Why can’t we keep going?”
I looked back.
It was the man in the navy suit.
Olivia approached him. “Sir, we have a medical emergency.”
“She’s frightened enough. Whatever appointment you have, it can wait.”
“I understand. But has anyone even asked whether she can wait?”
“My wife is in labor,” Daniel said.
The man glanced at me.
“And there are hospitals near the airport we were supposed to land at.”
“The crew has made its decision,” Olivia replied. “Please stay seated.”
I wanted to ask whether he thought I could simply decide not to have a baby. Another contraction silenced me.
Teresa turned toward him. “She’s frightened enough,” she said. “Whatever appointment you have, it can wait.” He opened his mouth, but Olivia raised one hand and pointed firmly at his seat.
I wanted to ask whether he thought I could simply decide not to have a baby. Another contraction silenced me.
Olivia and another attendant cleared space near the rear galley. Ramon helped me lie down while Daniel steadied my shoulders.
Teresa brought her sweater.
“I don’t want her born here.”
“Put this under her head,” she said.
While Ramon prepared supplies, I heard Olivia on the cabin telephone. She said two words: “Priority exit.”
I assumed she meant us.
I gripped Daniel’s hand.
“I don’t want her born here.”
The contractions came almost on top of each other.
“I know.”
“What if she can’t breathe?”
His face drained of color.
Ramon leaned closer. “We’re preparing for her. Listen to me, not the noise.”
The contractions came almost on top of each other. I tried to remember when the ache had begun. Breakfast? The drive to the airport? Had I been in labor for hours without knowing?
Pressure had replaced the pain, and I couldn’t stop myself from pushing.
A voice rose beyond the curtain, followed by Olivia’s firm reply.
“Sir, you need to remain seated.”
I barely heard her. Nothing I did seemed to bring the ground closer. Pressure had replaced the pain, and I couldn’t stop myself from pushing.
“She’s too early,” I cried.
When our daughter arrived, we were still at cruising altitude, roughly 35,000 feet above the ground.
“I know,” Ramon said. “But she’s coming now.”
Daniel pressed his forehead to mine.
“You’re not doing this alone.”
When our daughter arrived, we were still at cruising altitude, roughly 35,000 feet above the ground.
For a terrible moment, there was no cry.
Ramon used supplies from the crew’s delivery kit to clamp and cut the cord.
I heard Ramon speaking, the hum of the engines, Daniel breathing beside me.
“Please,” I whispered.
Then came a thin, furious wail.
