Parenting Insights
A week after my tumultuous trip across the Atlantic with my two young children, aged 4 and 15 months, I am just beginning to feel like my usual self again. Traveling with multiple little ones is certainly not for the faint of heart. I thought I was prepared. After all, I have extensive experience traveling with babies—I even created a community when my first child was just 18 months old.
Our group consists of over 6,000 parents worldwide who discuss the highs and lows of traveling with kids. We exchange travel tips, local secrets, and hacks, but most importantly, we offer each other much-needed support, whether on the road or at home.
The day after my exhausting journey, I shared my emotional experience with my community and was overwhelmed by the understanding responses from hundreds of fellow traveling parents. It became clear that my ordeal resonated with many. There appears to be a significant issue with the travel experience as it stands today. Traveling has escalated into a stressful venture, especially for parents, turning it into a nightmare.
Why has it become this way? Why does the U.S. rank as one of the least family-friendly countries when it comes to airports? In many other nations, traveling with children seems to be easier. Expecting mothers and parents with young kids enjoy priority access almost everywhere, and small play areas are common, particularly in Europe. These are just a few thoughts that surfaced as I reflected on my challenging trip.
Upon finally returning home, I felt as if I had emerged from a battle, barely intact. The night before our transatlantic flight, my mother jokingly suggested that I should consider wearing a bathing suit for the journey with my children. In retrospect, perhaps I should have taken her advice more seriously.
I traveled alone with my two kids from Paris to Chicago, with a layover in Philadelphia—a choice I regret, but budget constraints left me with few options. The eight-hour flight from Paris to Philadelphia was exhausting in itself. My 15-month-old daughter could hardly sit still, and I spent most of the flight digging through my carry-on for anything to occupy her—books, toys, snacks—you name it. Meanwhile, my nearly four-year-old son still required my assistance with everything from finding cartoons to using the bathroom.
My baby managed to sleep for a total of just an hour and a half during the flight, divided into two brief segments, the second of which was interrupted by her brother. She screamed and shrieked endlessly trying to fall asleep. As we began our descent into Philadelphia, my son threw a tantrum because he refused to buckle his seatbelt. I had to forcibly buckle him while managing my daughter on my lap, who was also crying in discomfort. It took a solid twenty minutes to calm him down.
Upon landing, I was completely frazzled, yet I had to navigate through the Philadelphia airport—Customs, baggage claim, and security—all while managing my two kids and carry-ons. My ordeal was far from over.
When I reached Customs, I hurried toward the Global Entry line. Previously, an officer had assured me that although my children didn’t have Global Entry, I could still use the line with them. However, in Philadelphia, I was directed to the back of the line. My energy was depleting rapidly, and tears began to flow as I realized I might miss my connection. I took deep breaths to calm myself, and thankfully, some passengers recognized my distress and allowed me to cut in line. An airport employee moved me to a shorter line, but I was met with indifferent stares from the officers who had no control over my chances of making my flight. I was in tears during the Customs photo they now require.
At baggage claim, the passengers who helped me at Customs also assisted me in getting my luggage and car seat to the baggage drop-off. There was no way I could have managed that alone, especially with my carry-ons and a stroller. As we approached security, I had to unfold the stroller and remove my baby, a total nightmare. I then rushed to the gate, my daughter in the stroller and my son running ahead of me.
Once at the gate, I paused at the bar to grab two glasses of water—one for myself and one for my son—while my daughter continued to sip her milk. People were staring, and I must have looked like a complete wreck. In that moment, I couldn’t care less about appearances; I had been in survival mode the entire time. My son, who had been difficult just moments before, looked worried and asked me why I was crying.
Despite the chaos, many people were kind and offered assistance. One gentleman on the first flight had lent us his iPad with a coloring app for half an hour and offered parenting advice throughout the journey. While I was trying to gather myself at the bar, another father approached, ready to help. Just as I asked him to watch my things while I fetched some food, I realized my daughter’s passport had gone missing, sending me into a panic once again. Thankfully, it had merely fallen under my large backpack, but for those few moments, I feared we wouldn’t be able to board our flight.
However, not everyone was kind. Just as I thought I was in the clear, a woman in her sixties, wearing oversized sunglasses, approached me claiming to be a pediatric nurse. She expressed concern for my daughter, who was visibly upset. Yes, my baby was crying—she was exhausted from a long day—but I was doing my best to care for her. At that moment, feeling utterly overwhelmed, I broke down in tears. The staff at the mini-mart immediately rushed to assist me, asking if I was okay. In my vulnerable state, I admitted, “No, I am most certainly not okay!” The woman, undeterred, continued to berate my parenting skills, insisting that someone should intervene. Fortunately, the employees defended me, and I mustered the strength to tell her to leave me alone.
Despite my emotional turmoil, I experienced many acts of kindness that day. The manager of the mini-mart generously offered me a complimentary bag of cookies, muffins, bananas, and water. With the help of several kind strangers, I finally boarded the flight back to Chicago, where my husband was waiting to take over.
As I gazed blankly out the window on the flight home, watching the sunset over Chicago, I reflected on the world we live in, where social media often showcases perfect images of families traveling seamlessly. While I wholeheartedly support traveling with children—after all, I created a community and a website focused on it—I was struck by two lessons from this experience: (1) Traveling with young ones in America is unnecessarily stressful, and we must advocate for change, and (2) we are all imperfect. Social media pressures us to present flawless images of parenting, but that is simply unrealistic. Let’s embrace our imperfections; we are doing the best we can, and that is enough. It is disheartening that some feel entitled to judge our parenting.
In addition to my travel experience, if you’re interested in fertility or family planning, our blog on at-home insemination kits can provide valuable insights. Check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination for more information.