A gate agent refused to let me board a flight with my crying toddler. Another mother came to the rescue.

02.02.2025 - 22:57 / insider.com

It took a moment to register the gate agent's words over the high-pitched wails of my 2-year-old daughter. One look at her crossed arms told me I hadn't misunderstood. She wasn't letting us onto the flight.

Stunned, I remained frozen in place.

"She's not getting on the plane until she calms down," the gate agent repeated. Her mouth curled in disgust at my daughter's tear-strewn cheeks.

On our way home from where we lived in Maui to visit my parents in Washington State, my daughter had hit her threshold. She was tired of being confined to her umbrella stroller in the stuffy terminal. But she loved airplanes. Once we settled into our seats, I knew she'd smile again. When the announcement for families with young children to pre-board was made, I rushed to the front of the line.

I was 32, lost, and struggling as a new mom. However, I considered myself a pro at traveling as a solo parent . A small victory I clung to.

Though I was still together with my daughter's father at the time, I often felt like a single mother . Our relationship was fraught. He usually didn't join us when we flew to visit family during the holidays and summer vacations. I craved a supportive, loving partnership to share parental duties, but I also longed for peace and respite from the fighting.

So I'd learned to navigate my daughter's bulky car seat, luggage, diaper bag, and stroller by myself, proving I could bear the weight of it all without assistance from anyone. Even if it left my hair disheveled, and beads of sweat smudged my mascara.

We'd taken our first transpacific flight when my daughter was 8 months old. I'd noticed nearby passengers' tense, wary looks as we shuffled down the aisle. When the wheel hit the tarmac six hours later, those same people cooed, "What a good baby," marveling that she'd never cried.

Bristling, I met their compliments with a tight smile. I really wanted to reply: So, babies that did fuss were somehow bad?

Now, according to the gate agent in an Aloha-print polyester button-up blocking my path to the jetway, the answer was, in fact, yes.

"Once I gate-check the stroller and carry her to our seats, she'll be fine," I pleaded.

Without glancing at me, the gate agent waved the person behind me around. The beep of their ticket scanning caused my throat to constrict. Perhaps sensing her mother was on the verge of a breakdown, the intensity of my toddler's tantrum kicked up a notch. I could feel everyone's watchful gaze boring into us. My carry-ons, diaper bag, daughter, me — we were all in the way. It was a spectacle. My face started to break.

"Please," I implored once more.

A hand grasped my elbow. Expecting to see a security guard ready to escort us away, I turned. Instead, there