The journey from Atlanta to San Francisco began with the usual chaos of traveling with a 14-month-old. My baby was fussy and crying, clearly uncomfortable in the confined airplane cabin.
I felt the judgmental stares of other passengers, silently criticizing my inability to soothe her. Anxiety churned in my stomach as I tried everything to calm her, but nothing seemed to work.
About an hour into the flight, a kind-looking man sitting across the aisle caught my attention. With a warm smile, he offered to help, saying,
“Would you like me to hold your baby for a while? I have a daughter around the same age, and I know how tough it can be. Let me take her for a bit
