Stephen from Manchester undertook a brave journey. No, he didn't go off to war- he travelled with his 6 month old son Jack from America to the UK- all on his own...

Oh come on Jack, don’t look at me like that, this is going to be tough enough as it is. My six month old son is giving me the evil eye. I’ve just pulled him away from hammering his latest toy into oblivion and tied him into his car seat. He hates that, but we’ve got a 17 hour journey ahead of us if we’re to get him back to his mum. I’m a slightly single dad. Jack’s mum and I are British and have been working in New York and Connecticut for the last three years. Slowly getting bored of CT and with a stalled career, his mum found a great job in Manchester UK and started 3 weeks ago. Jack and I stayed behind while mum sorted herself out and threw herself into work.

Now it’s Mum’s turn for Jack, while I try to sell the house (ha ha fat chance in this climate) and look for a job in Northern England. I’m feeling smug with myself. The three weeks went smoothly. Jack has day care. My job is easy and allows me to leave early if necessary. We got through 3 weekends together, an ear infection and a full set of booster injections. I’ve got him in a nice sleeping routine in his own bed, and as far as I can tell he doesn’t seem to be pining for his mum. To his mum’s annoyance I’m questioning whether she’s ready for him. You got a doctor lined up? What’s his child care like? She patiently reminds me she looked after him solo for 3 months before returning to work and I can kindly shut up.

The adventure begins
Anyway we’re all set to fly. I put him into the car, now complaining loudly and wetly and set off. There’s something very stressful about a screaming child, but within a couple of mile he’s fallen asleep. I’m not sure if this is good or not. I’m guessing he’s saving up to demonstrate lung power to his fellow passengers. The 3 hour trip to the airport goes fine and before long I’m at the BA check in desk. Jack’s gurgling and cooing at the check in lady and she promises me a spare seat next to me and a crib. She appears to take no notice of my bag being several kg’s over the limit. It could be because I’m balancing Jack on top of it as a distraction while he does his best to seduce her. We head to what has always seemed Boston’s humourless security check in. They must have had an entire staff change. They’re all smiles and I have two of them helping me with Jack and oversized luggage through the detectors. One woman frisks Jack, now sleeping deeply in his car seat. “You wake him up, and you can put him to sleep again”, I warn her. She smiles and finishes up without him flinching “I’m an expert, I have 3 of my own” she says. I hand over a plastic bag full of bottles of breast milk and way over the fluid limit. They take it and call me over after I’ve got through. Oh here we go. “Excuse me sir, we need you to test this milk”. “Err what ? How do I do that?”. “We need you to taste it”. “You realize this is pumped human breast milk?” Jack’s mum has been pumping milk like crazy to give us enough for 3 weeks supply while she was away. Our fridge was stuffed with it. “Come on it won’t kill you” she said. I tasted the first bottle. I have to admit it wasn’t the first time. I’d done some experimenting before, though directly from source. I also knew it tasted rather disgusting. “There you go. It’s real milk, are you satisfied?”. “Sure, that one’s fine. You can go ahead and test the rest”. I had to sample each of the bottles while two security guards giggled at me.

Finally I struggle into the lounge. Jack’s getting really heavy in his car seat and my hand luggage, a medium size rucksack is slowly cutting off my circulation. I struggle over to Starbucks and notice a woman and child even younger than Jack sitting down. She smiles and I make the decision to join her.

We instantly get into a conversation. She’s travelling to Deli with her husband and their 4 month old. 2 months younger than Jack and already flying. I never thought I’d be interested in talking babies, but now I’ve got my own we spent an hour discussing intricacies of rolling, travelling and behaviour. AND I really enjoyed it. Her and her partner looked after Jack and my luggage while I got everything I needed at Starbucks. A Canadian couple nearby come over and start joining in the conversation and before long Jack’s getting handed around and we’re chatting like we’ve known each other for years. Two hours disappear as the most fun I’ve had at an airport and I’m about to go board my plane. “Your very brave flying alone” says the woman off to Delhi with her young one and husband. I shrug modestly. “I bet no one would say that if it was a woman flying solo with a baby” chipped in the Canadian. “Oh yes I would” came the reply. “Anyone travelling alone with a kid is brave”. I left the dangerous topic, the arguing women and headed to the plane. I’d have to agree, it’s tough for anyone, but I’d be hesitant about calling a woman brave in case she took it I was implying she couldn’t cope with solo baby travelling.

Flying, flirting and fidgeting
At the check in the BA lady calls me over by name. “Mr Dobson, you can board now”. Family boarding, I’m one of the first on. Another BA lady holds Jack while I re-organise everything. He’s gurgling again. He’s such a shameless flirt with women. I sit down and tie Jack into his seat belt on top of me. This is going to go one of two ways and it’s not looking promising. He’s getting in a bad mood and starting to get loud. The seat next to me is free but a middle-age business man sits down in the one beyond that. He gives me a weak smile, acknowledging that he probably has 7 hours of noisy hell to get through before landing at London. I get Jack’s dummy and toy out. Amazingly Jack quietens down and starts exploring his surroundings. He’s an active little bugger. He spends the next 20 minutes wriggling like a greased pig. But at least he’s making no more noise than a happy gurgle, and I’m getting admiring glances from a lot of the women on the flight. One of us is anyway, I can fantasize it’s me. I’m very nervous at this stage. The flight is 6pm and Jack hasn’t had his afternoon poo explosion yet. He’s pretty regular about this and has had 3 epics in his life. I’m fully expecting another one. His first was at Penn Station in New York where we ended up with poo dripping on the floor. His second made daddy proud when he destroyed his own clothes and a full set of his mothers. The third was a spectacular event in the car when he managed to get poo in his hair and down his sleeves. Thank god that ability goes away as you approach adult hood. Jack’s sucking his bottom lip and going cross eyed. A sure sign he’s about to blow. 5 minutes to go, the planes moving and a loud grumble comes from his nappy. I visibly jump and he’s heard for several rows behind. The air stewardess gives me a worried questioning look while pointing at the bathroom. I hurriedly examine the damage. We’re ok to continue. I don’t think we need to delay an entire flight just yet. We hit altitude and I stand up with Jack in one arm and fight to get my giant rucksack down and Jack’s change of clothes. Jack thinks it’s a game, alternating between pulling at the rucksack, putting his hands dangerously in the way, pulling at my hair and glasses or wetly sneezing in my face. He’s playing to the crowd and everyone’s watching. I can see several people torn between helping and not wanting to offend a guy, making him look like he needs help. We manage and get a full change done in the bathroom. There’s quite a queue when I get out but Jack plays to the crowd and they don’t mind. He rewards me when I sit down by filling his nappy again and destroying another onesy. We repeat! We pass the flight in relative peace. Jack plays and wriggles for 3 hours, while building up some dedicated followers. People who seem mesmerized and constantly smiling at him.

The rest of the flight he spends between asleep in his BA crib and trying to catch the eye of the attractive woman on the other side of the flight who’s trying to read her book. We have one embarrassing moment when Jack notices the deep prominent cleavage of a woman while on a bathroom trip. He puts both his hands out towards her, obviously wanting one thing. She doesn’t notice, though the guy behind me has a little giggle. He feeds all the way down to landing, and suddenly we’re in London and Jack’s an international traveller. The BA staff help me into all my luggage. Jack’s in a front carrier, I’m carrying his car seat. I have a big rucksack (my “hand luggage”) on my back and I have yet to pick up an overweight suitcase that has to be wheeled. At passport control I suddenly forget what I’ve written on Jack’s landing card. How long will he be staying sir? Err 3 weeks I mention. He’s actually staying permanently. But his British passport is still in the post and he’s entering as an American. I’m allowed through, and forgiven the entry I’ve put for Jack’s profession “eating, puking, pooing, crying, sleeping”. I pick up my overweight luggage. Some annoyed member of BA has stamped a huge sticker on it saying “OVERWEIGHT”.

Semi-smooth landings
Next stop London. Twice as I head through terminal 5 to the train. Heathrow express and the underground is a breeze. I’m helped through both by staff. I have a Heathrow Express guard spending 10 minutes waving to Jack through the window while we wait to leave. Underground staff help me through gates and to platforms with my luggage. Soon we’re standing at Euston waiting to board the train to Manchester. A Virgin guard sees me and helps me on the train and sets me down with a table and plenty of room for Jack to play. “We’re almost there Jack”. Daddy’s tired but OK. I managed a couple hours sleep on the plane and the adrenalin is keeping me awake. Jack loves it. He’s all smiles and loves the train. His little head is moving side to side looking at people boarding.

Finally I’m in Manchester and probably the hardest part of the trip. I have a 20 min walk dragging the suitcase from hell to his Mums city center apartment. I’m met by a good friend of ours who takes Jack while I sleep. His mum arrives back from work four hours later. Both Jack and I are refreshed and Jack finally shows some sign he’s missed his mum. He’s all smiles and shows obvious pleasure at meeting her. He also happily accepts breast after his 3 week break.

The trip was an adventure, but mainly due to amazing friendliness of everyone on the way. This was way different from my usual isolated journeys. I’m on my way back to the USA now. I’ll see Jack and his mum again in about 3 weeks when I come over. For now I’m alone, and so far I haven’t managed to get more than a smile out of one or two of my fellow passengers. I’ve heard dogs can create the same affect. Perhaps we’ll get one when Jack’s older. Here’s to our next journey together, maybe I can use Jack to go trawling for girls. Perhaps that’s one reason his mum wants him with her. Oh hang on, there’s a woman travelling alone with her 4 month old. I’m off to tell her she’s brave and talk about rolling.