The trip was amazing.
At first I didn't want to leave. In fact, I sobbed like a baby as I left our house that Wednesday night, headed for our overnight stay in Detroit before our a.m. flight. I tried to fill the gaping hole in my heart with Red Vines Licorice and a Diet Pepsi. But finally, it was only texting Mo and talking to Kate that really helped. Kate made me feel better and then distracted me with more PA horror stories for just long enough that things felt okay again. I went to sleep as soon as I could when we arrived to the hotel and the next morning was too busy to notice the painfulness of being away from Liana.
But when we boarded that plane, I thought I was surely going to have a panic attack. You remember that scene from "Final Destination" where Devon Sawa's character screams, "LET ME OFF THE PLANE!" over and over again until they finally do? Yep, I thought of that. I thought for a quick second about the fact that in that moment, I could easily be "the crazy girl" of our flight. Thankfully though, I wasn't (and nobody else was either!).
We arrived to the awful lines of Jamaica's Immigration and Customs. Waited for an hour. Got yelled at by some mean looking girl because we didn't step away from her terminal fast enough. Boarded our shuttle with the least enthusiastic group of people ever and I prayed that we were dropping them off at one of the other resorts. No such luck though. We entered the orientation session the resort holds with this same group where they quickly announced their disdain for alcohol. I thought to myself, "You're staying at the wrong resort then" for two reasons: 1) the B.E.'s were here, and things were about to get crazy, and 2) it's an all-inclusive, have a drink for pete's sake! I hadn't eaten all day and I just wanted to get to our room and relax for a few minutes before the craziness of our vacation really began.
No such luck. The moment we walked out of those doors after orientation, Mo screamed my name.
There was no turning back. :)
Thursday night was a night of, "Holy Crap we're here!"
Friday was spent at the Royal Caribbean resort, partying in the pool and laying by the beach. Friday night we had the rehearsal dinner, all 45 of the wedding guests included, on a dock overlooking the sunset. Beautiful.
Saturday? We floated in the pool, layed by the pool, and then had a wedding to attend. :) Jessie Bing became Jessie Waalkes and the every part of the evening was beautiful and perfect. Well, except for that stinking humidity!
Sunday, we headed out to "Party Island" only to find that it wasn't such a party after all. But, wherever the B.E.'s go, a party follows soon enough. Mike and I relaxed on the beach while everyone else stayed in the pool and for those few hours, I was in heaven. It was wonderful.
Monday, I feared for my life! For whatever reason, I had jumped at the opportunity to do zip-lining earlier in the weekend but obviously didn't know what I was signing myself up for because anyone that knows me knows I'm TERRIFIED of heights. I have panic attacks watching others stand near a railing if we're not on the main floor of any building. I'm terribly scared of stairs without backs (you know, where you can see through them). I'm afraid that the floor will fall out from beneath me, and many times have I sat out on certain things because of this fear. As we crossed the first line, I quickly realized that I wasn't up for this adventure. But, once you cross the first one there's no going back... so I crossed 7 more lines and went straight down on an 8th (as in, free falling. yeah, check that!). The longest line we crossed was 1100 feet long and 14 stories high. We stood on platforms that probably had 3 feet of standing space and were connected to trees only... the ground was hundreds of feet below us. So no, I didn't know what I was getting myself into, but I did it. And afterwards, I had never been so happy to stand on solid ground again as I was that day. :)
And Wednesday, oh Wednesday.
We left the resort at noon as our plane was scheduled to take of at 2:30. We show up to the ticket counter to check in and the girl says something like, "Your gate is closed and your flight is taking off." My heart sunk. What?! Why?! How?! Good ol' Delta Airlines had changed our flight time and forgotten to call us... even though they had called me twice before we left the U.S. to tell us that our flight times had changed. At this point, I was ready to be home already. So, I cried. I cried like a fool. I tried to hold back the sobs, but I failed. Mike tried to comfort me but he failed too. We stood at that counter for an hour before they finally figured out a plan to get us back home (it was high school spring break week, if that tells you how busy the airports were) and at 1:20, when the girl said our flight took off at 1:45 and we still had to go through customs, immigration, check our baggage and go through security, I wasn't sure how she expected us to make it in time. But, the tears were still flowing so she personally escorted us through the terminal. We skipped every line. I walked with untied shoes. And we made it. We stepped onto the plane and only then did I realize that Mike and I weren't seated together (shouldn't have been surprised by it, but I was) and I lost it all over again. I sobbed some more and people started looking. The girl sitting in the seat next to me said, "if you're that scared to fly, the flight attendant can probably arrange for you to sit by your husband." I laughed. After zip lining, climbing waterfalls, and leaving my child for a week, that wasn't what was going to make me cry at this point. Anger was. Frustration was. I told her that and I assured her that within an hour I'd have myself under control again. She understood and I was thankful. After take off, the row next to my seat opened up so that Mike and I could sit by each other and I nestled my head into the crook of his neck like never before. He was attentive and concerned throughout the whole thing and I loved him for it.
We got home. Late, but safe and sound. :)
The next morning, I went to pick up Liana. And while the reunion wasn't everything I had hoped it would be because my dad had put her down for her nap earlier than I had expected so I was forced to wake her, it was still sweet and perfect. When she opened those groggy eyes, she realized who was in front of her. And the rest of the day, she didn't leave my side. (Well, except for the two minutes she left my side and then fell down the stairs... but that's a different post all together!). She napped in my arms which is something she hasn't done since she was no more than 4 months old. For two hours, I layed on the couch and held her, watched her, loved her. I couldn't get enough. A week later, I still can't get enough.
Our week in Jamaica was wonderful. It was the trip of a lifetime because it'd be next to impossible to get 20 of our closest friends on a plane to paradise like this again. It was hard leaving, but I was surprised at how well I did once we were there. We had moments where Mike and I looked at each other and said, "I miss Liana." But those moments came and went quickly. I slept with her blanket every night and carried her picture around with me every day. The truth is, we were just too busy to focus on what we might be missing at home and instead were enjoying the luxury of having 6 days together. And I won't lie... having meals prepared for me around the clock, not having to clean once, and being waited on hand and foot was pretty nice too. It almost made me not want to come home.
Almost. :)
But I'd miss this sweet little face and our fun times together far too much to stay away for much longer.
Watching the Tigers game with daddy...
Hanging around the house....
Going to the zoo and park with Graham...
Swinging with mama...
Tired after a long and fun day :)
It's good to be home.
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