Waiting, and Waiting, and Waiting...
“Flight number BA2490, 5:45 am direct to Los Angeles has been delayed, please check with employees at your terminal for information.” Heather breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was 5:25 am and she hadn’t even moved 10 feet in the line for customs. Amelia had just started to stir, her head still covered by a thin pink blanket to act as a barrier between her and the bustling airport. Heather thought she allowed enough time between feedings to get through customs, but the way Amelia was stirring told her otherwise.
Heather's Secret Weapon
As time went on, Amelia got fussier and Heather got more anxious. As the clock neared 6, Heather steadily closed the gap between her and the customs agents who seemed to be half asleep, checking bags and stamping passports like zombies on an assembly line. By the time Heather made it to the front, Amelia had gotten visibly antsy. Heather patted her baby bag to feel for her saving grace, a bottle of milk that she filled and left in the freezer overnight for this particular occasion. Heather decided to wait to get through customs to feed Amelia, but when she stepped up and dropped her bags to be inspected, something unusual happened…
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