I dread flying now. Dread it. So far, I have taken four plane tickets with my daughter who is not yet 12 months old, and every time, she socialized much better than I. Any small bump, shake, or dear god full-blown turbulence, I am virtually convinced it is going to finish horribly. I do not even wish to type the way i think it is going to finish. I burrow my mind into my husband's arm, search my nails into him, and all of a sudden find religion. It is a shit show. And that is just one of my amplified fears since being a mother.
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