AMERICA!

Raleigh 1.20.14

I had to fly home from Europe by myself while Todd stayed in Copenhagen to work for two more weeks. I was really nervous about it when we booked my tickets back in July (flying + alone + ocean = confluence of my worst fears) but I was hardly nervous at all the day I flew! Maybe my phobia is disappearing, maybe I was too excited about home to care, or maybe I was successfully limiting my stress for the sake of my child. But I'll give credit where I really think its due: Todd gave me a Priesthood blessing the night before.

Things were going smoothly until we were checking my bags at the airport and I pulled Todd's passport out of my pocket and handed it to the desk agent.

I have this completely remarkable ability to remember a thousand tiny details and forget the one absolutely crucial piece, which has somehow become even worse with pregnancy. So I was really careful to have all my ducks in a row for the return home. The luggage was sorted, labelled, packed, ready. I had specifically put my passport in the interior zipped pouch of my carry-on days before so I wouldn't forget the one thing I couldn't leave the country without. Just that morning, I had taken Todd's passport out and left on the desk at our apartment... CRAP.

My flight left in 90 minutes and it would take at least 2 hours for us to go all the way back to Østerbro- we'd have to reschedule my entire trip. Rather than choosing a productive response, I started bawling my eyes out.

Todd handled my crazy like a champ. He went to the ticketing desk and started the process of rescheduling me for a later flight while trying to reassure me that everything would be fine. I just stood there, sobbing. (I'm normally not drama like that... pregnancy.)

Then I realized, the passport I gave the desk agent came from my pocket. I hadn't checked the zipped pouch.

So I checked the pouch, and guess what was inside? It turns out I had both of our passports with me. What was a major disaster in my morning turned out to be a blessing-- what if I had checked my bag first instead of my pocket, and unknowingly traveled all the way to America with Todd's passport?

Still shaken at THAT whole experience, plus having to leave Todd (which I've never been good at), I was quite red-eyed when I went through security. The security man asked me if I was okay, and I said 'yes' unconvincingly. He saw my birthplace on my passport and said "Utah? No NFL team, right? You like football? Who's your team then?" Ha! What a nice guy, seeing a need and trying to cheer me up.

After that, my trip home couldn't possibly have gone better. (Except the part where I left my passport on a scanning station at emigration in New York. What do I need to do, tether that thing to me?!)

My jet lag was pretty bad, so I woke up the next morning at like 4:30. I occupied myself around the apartment until 7, then I went to get some breakfast and drove around while watching the sun rise. The temperature was in the 60s and the sun was shining. I felt absolutely joyful. I hadn't realized how depressed I'd been for at least a month. I was so happy to be home.

So many Tender Mercies-- from no flight phobia, to discovering Todd's passport, to the nice security guy, to the empty seats next to me on my trans-Atlantic flight, to the lack of pregnancy fatigue, to the kid who found my passport in NYC, to a sunny 60-degree day in January. So grateful.