Page 125 of Bountiful
Two black satin nightgowns were added to our stash—one for eachofus.
It was a good day, and I let optimism bubble through my soul in a way that was rareforme.
Which was why, on the day of our trip, I was blindsided by the worstflightever.
Earlier in the week, Nicole had come down with a bit of a cold. But toddlers were famous for having lots of colds as their little immune systems learned the ropes, and I didn’t let it worry me. I was too excited to see Dave—at a luxury beach resortnoless.
Nicole was a little weepy as we began our trip, but I assumed it was just the break in her routine. Then she was fussy during the flight and wouldn’t eat or drink her milk. Still, not abigdeal.
But as the plane started its descent, she began to whimper. And by the time I could see the lights of Miami, she was crying. The cries became howls. She buried the side of her face against my collarbone and cried like there was notomorrow.
I couldn’t soothe her with a trip up and down the aisle, because the Fasten Seatbelt light was on. She cried, and I shushed and patted her back as people began tostare.
“It’s probably her ears,” a flight attendant said, trying to help. “If she drinks something, it might relieve the pressure.” She offered me a bottle of water, whichItook.
But Nicole wasn’t having it. She screamed when I tried to sit her up, and her crying took on that desperate, hiccup-y sound of the trulydespondent.
The plane took four hours to land. Not really, but that’s how it felt to me. And then came that interminable time before passengers were allowed off the plane. Everyone near me was tapping their fingers or toes, eager to fleefromus.
I didn’tblamethem.
When I finally stood up and took a good look at her, one ear was bright red. She’d been rubbing it against me for almost an hour, so it could have been irritated, but I had a sinking suspicion that Nicole had a bigger problem—baby’s first earinfection.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered in her good ear as she cried. “Ididn’tknow.”
Hell, I wasn’t even sure I had baby Motrin in mysuitcase.
By the time we were able to leave the plane and head for the baggage claim, I was a nervous wreck. And she still wouldn’t stopcrying.
Then I spotted a certain auburn head and a certain rugged smile. For a second I forgot to panic. There he was, waiting for me. Waitingforus.
God, I almost had to pinchmyself.
Once he got a good look at us, his smile faded fast. “What’s wrong?” he askedimmediately.
“She won’t stop crying. I think it could be an earinfection.”
Dave reached for Nicole and took her from me like any good dad anywhere. He cradled her and whispered somethingtoher.
“DADA…” shewailed.
I felt likecrying,too.
Dave
The next couple of hoursweren’teasy.
To the irritation of the Uber driver, my child screamed all the way to the hotel, like we were trying to kill her. I called the team doctor in New York and asked him what I should do. He sent us to an overly bright urgent care facility, where a young physician’s assistant diagnosed an ear infection and gave us aprescription.
“Give her a dose immediately,” she said. “And a dose again in the night, if she wakes up. She should get some relief within twelve or twenty-four hours. And baby ibuprofen willhelp,too.”
One pharmacy stop later, and we were on our way back in the hotel’s courtesy car, with Zara looking shaken andbleary.
Still crying, Nicole relaxed into a fitful doze in her car seat. I reached across to Zara and took her hand. Her fingers laced into mine, but she looked out the window and bitherlip.
Then, finally, we’d made it back to the suite I’d booked. There was a crib waiting in the extra little bedroom and a bottle of champagne sweating in the bucket where I’d left ithoursago.
Ah, well. The best-laidplans.
