I was flying alone with my two-month-old son, who wouldn’t stop crying. My husband was in another city, and I had no help. The six-hour flight felt endless.
My baby, usually calm, was fussy and exhausted. I tried everything—feeding, soothing, diaper changes—but nothing worked. The man sitting next to me, clearly on business, looked annoyed. I felt guilty with every sideways glance he gave.
Then, surprisingly, he spoke:
“Give me the baby. You try to get some rest.”
I hesitated, but he smiled. “I’m a pediatrician. I have two at home. I know how stressful flying with little ones can be.”
I handed him my son. In minutes, the baby fell asleep in his arms. I closed my eyes and slept for the first time in hours.
When we landed, he handed my son back gently.
“You’re a very strong mother. Never doubt that,” he said.
I’ll never forget that moment—and his kindness.
