Don’t do it. Just don’t. This is what I found myself hearing when I told people my plan. Friends, co-workers, other mothers. One bluntly threw in that “he won’t even remember”. Another called me “crazy”. With post-pregnancy hormones coursing through me, and doubt creeping into even the most basic decisions in my life, this wasn’t the response I needed.
But with almost all of my family living 10,000 miles away in Australia yet to meet my son – only four months old – I couldn’t listen to their advice. I was embarking on a trip Down Under, just myself and my little boy, no matter the challenge. I can tell you now that it’s a trek, it’s tough, but it was worth it – and I urge anyone considering travel like this to take the chance.
I knew when I was pregnant that I would be making this journey eventually. I love living in England: cosy pubs, cold weather at Christmas and the fast pace of London life. And beyond meeting his antipodean family, I wanted my son to see what I loved about home: the vastness of the countryside, perfectly sandy beaches, stellar brunches that the UK still just doesn’t get right.
Nap times for him quickly became research time for me. I was frantically looking at the potential for flights, all the while hoping my son would sleep for longer than 30 minutes. It was a frustrating process; I found very little helpful information online, and all too often fell into forums where people, in no uncertain terms, made it clear that babies did not belong on planes.
After what felt like an endless search, Singapore Airlines emerged as the best choice. What info I could actually find led me to good reviews of their family travel experiences. The common denominator in every opinion I read was how brilliant the onboard staff are with children – something I felt was going to make or break the journey alone. The true slave to my frazzled mind was the launch of the airline’s new route, flying from London Gatwick to Singapore for the first time, then on to Sydney – with the fastest connecting service from the UK capital to the Australian city, clocking in at 21 hours and 40 minutes.
Read more: Ten years ago I visited Uluru with William and Kate – now I am back with my own family

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