stayed secured against my chest in
his baby carrier.
It wasn’t a luxury purchase in my mind.
It was a practical decision.
I wanted Emma beside me where I could reach her easily, and I needed enough room to adjust Oliver if he woke up, needed comforting, or became restless during the flight.
By the time boarding began, I was already carrying the kind of exhaustion that comes with a six-week-old baby, but I kept telling myself that once we reached our seats, everything would settle down.
Emma stayed close while we moved through the narrow aisle.
She had her backpack on and was trying to be helpful in the quiet, serious way she always did when she could tell I was juggling too much at once.
Oliver was sleeping against my chest, his weight warm through the carrier, and for
