A Birth at 30,000 Feet (Almost)

Our flight to Mississippi was delayed, the kind that makes everyone sigh and refresh the gate app a hundred times. In the middle of it sat an Army soldier, phone clutched tight, eyes shining. He whispered, “They’re taking her in now,” and we all understood. He couldn’t be there. So he opened FaceTime.

We went quiet—passengers, crew, even the guy who’d been on hold with an airline for an hour. A flight attendant slipped him extra napkins. Someone passed over a charger. The captain dimmed the cabin lights and announced, “Let’s give Dad a moment.”

Then it happened: a tiny cry through the speaker. The soldier covered his face and shook with relief. The whole plane cheered, strangers clapping like family. He turned the screen so we could see the smallest bundle, and for one breathless second, Gate B12 felt like a delivery room.

I’m sharing this to remember our service members—the hearts they carry, the moments they miss, the love they never stop showing. If you see one, say thank you. Sometimes the bravest thing they do is simply keep showing up—here, and far from home.