On the flight from Atlanta to San Francisco, we encountered the typical chaos that comes with traveling with a 14-month-old. My baby was grumpy and fussing, so it was clear that she was uncomfortable in the cramped airplane compartment. I sensed that the other travelers were quietly criticizing me for not being able to soothe her. I tried everything to soothe her, but it didn’t seem to be working, and I started to feel anxious.

About an hour into the trip, I saw a gregarious-looking man sitting across the aisle. “Would you like me to hold your baby for a little while?” he asked with a pleasant smile. I have a kid that is about the same age, so I know how hard it could be. Let me take her for a little walk; I think I can help her relax.

Weary and longing for a little peace, I accepted his offer after hesitating for only a moment. He seemed serious, and I was desperate. He cradled her in his arms, and to my relief, my baby stopped crying and even smiled.

Relieved, I turned to make the most of the silence and took my laptop and some food out of my backpack. But when I turned around, my heart sank. My blood stopped when I saw the man turn from being cordial to being much more frightening while whispering something in my baby’s ear.

Panic started to set in. Did he really want to harm her? Was she going to be held captive by him?

My defense systems kicked in, and I forced myself to remain calm. I wouldn’t let fear get the better of me. I stood up and walked quickly but purposefully in his direction. “Pardon me, but I think I need to take her back now,” I remarked, shaking my head.