Fear of flying.

I’ve changed. I gave birth, and I changed.

Before kids {well kid, but kids sounds better} I felt fearless. Invincible. I could walk through dark streets alone in Kings Cross and not fear for my life. I loved being home alone. I never heard sounds or worried about intruders. I was invincible.

Most of all I liked to fly. Flying was a great time to catch up on magazines and people watch, and look out the window at the world underneath. Now… I hate to fly.

Last month I went to Melbourne for my work Christmas party {seriously. so. much. fun!} and to get there, of course we had to fly. So along with my Sydney workmates we flew to Melbourne. We boarded the plane among adults in fancy dress {also going to their work Christmas party, I assume}.

Somewhere up in the sky between Sydney and Melbourne we hit turbulence. I felt as far from invincible as humanly possible. The plane dropped, and bumped, and the passengers screamed. I was too scared to scream. I closed my eyes and held on to work-mate’s hand, like it was going to save my life. I practiced my labour breathing techniques. I waited for it to be over. And eventually it was.

When we got off the plane, I joked that we should drive back home instead of flying. I wasn’t really joking. I never wanted to fly again.

The next day {with a nasty hangover} I got back on the plane and headed home. I felt every teeny bump and movement of the plane. I held hands with my work mate again, thankful that she was as anxious as I to be up in the sky.

I’ve felt this way about flying ever since having Lacey. I hear it’s normal. Mums don’t feel so invincible, it seems.

Do you like to fly? Are you as anxious flying as I am?