The truth about flying long-haul with a baby as a solo parent – it’s not as crazy as you think

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.

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So far, so good. But there’s nothing like motherhood to steal your hard-earned confidence after years of flying around the globe. Suitcase trundling behind me in one hand, pushing the little boy in a stroller ahead of me, the nerves kicked in once through the airport’s sliding doors. I felt like a novice: fumbling with passports and boarding passes, struggling with backpacks and suitcases. Maybe everyone was right – what the hell was I doing?

Checked in, and with less luggage weighing us down, I tried to push the negative thoughts out of my mind. It’s all too easy to feel down when you’re functioning on minimal sleep. The positivity didn’t last long.

I expected the family assistance security line at Gatwick to offer a little of exactly that: assistance. What actually unfolded was almost an hour of taking nearly every item out of our carry-on, handing over the pram, and trying to coordinate going through a scanner on my own whilst nobody – no one at all – would hold my son; they had no issues impatiently staring while I struggled to meet their demands. We waited 40 minutes for his two pre-made bottles of formula to be tested. The hours ahead looked like a lifetime – and not a happy one.

The remaining hours in London flew by, almost taunting me as it counted down to what I was worried would be a lonely, hair-pullingly stressful journey. At least getting on the plane was a breeze, with priority board (for all those travelling with a baby) doing exactly what it was supposed to. Even at this stage it became clear to me that the simple things matter when travelling as a solo parent with a baby; allowing us to get on board and get comfortable before everyone else piled in was a godsend.

We were instantly greeted and introduced to all staff in our cabin and given a quick tour of the seats and facilities available to us. Top tip: if you can stretch to it, opt for premium economy for more spacious seats and the smaller cabin. Singapore’s flight crew have a reputation for being some of the best in the business, and the reason for their stellar reputation – they are frequently noted on Skytrax’s World’s Best Airline Staff list – was quickly apparent. For the first time in hours it finally felt like everything was going OK. My son even behaved while we were delayed on the tarmac for nearly two hours.

In the air, I installed the bassinet at our seat. It was enormously useful, giving somewhere for my son to play and snooze – or just safely lie while I tried to regain feeling in my arms after having to hold him. The long leg of our journey lived up to its name: 12 hours on a plane alone with a 97th-percentile bub is certainly not for the faint of heart, but, and I cannot say this with more relief, it is doable. We stuck mostly to our usual schedule, which meant for the last five hours of the journey he slept soundly in my arms as it was “bedtime” for his baby body clock.

One of my biggest fears was unhelpful, disgruntled or – as I’ve seen during pre-motherhood flights – downright vicious looks (and even comments) from passengers unhappy to be seated anywhere in our vicinity. Thankfully, this wasn’t the case. When my son is giving me hell as a teenager, I’ll remember what a sweet, soundly sleeping boy he was on that leg of the journey, and how when he was awake he charmed those around him.

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As is the case with being a new parent, the good times rapidly roll into stress. We landed at Singapore’s Changi airport as our flight to Sydney was departing. Staff on board were unable to tell anyone what was happening with connections, and we were instead directed to speak with ground staff at the gate.

I was once again loaded up like a pack mule – baby in his carrier, collapsed stroller swung over my shoulder, and my enormous backpack strapped on – and ushered with the shuffling crowd towards the team handling the delayed passengers. I was quickly told that we had been put on a flight to Sydney some 12 hours later, and before the anxiety of being stuck in an airport kicked in, the gentleman handed me the details of the transit hotel which had been booked for my son and I, along with three meal vouchers for the day. I think even my baby breathed a sigh of relief at the idea of a real bed to snooze on.

The delay ensured we certainly didn’t have the quickest journey from London to Sydney, but – and this is another piece of advice I would give to anyone thinking of travelling longhaul with a baby – the unexpected stopover was bliss. A bed! A shower! Real space to wander! Next time, I’d plan one in – it makes the world of difference. We ventured into the green spaces Changi airport has on offer. The sunflower garden was a firm favourite, allowing us to get outside in the sun. Walking through the terminals there are all too many small green spaces and water features to explore – a welcome relief from the fluorescent lighting of the duty-free shopping options.

Come the next day, somewhat rested (in that way that new parenthood sort of allows), in stark comparison to Gatwick, we whizzed through security without having to remove anything from our bags, and I was able to pass through the security scanners with baby in his carrier.

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Our boarding experience in Singapore was much the same as our first flight: all the help I could have wanted was given by the staff, and at the 24-hour mark of our journey I was even more grateful for it. With my son’s body clock discombobulated, this flight was slightly restless. I’m sure almost every parent can reflect on a night when their baby has refused to lay in their own bed. This was that kind of night. As if by magic, every 30 minutes or so, a new caffeinated drink and a small block of chocolate would appear on my tray table, brought over by different members of the cabin crew with a smile, and always checking if I needed help. One crew member said that chocolate was the key to staying awake for a night flight – after this experience, I could not have agreed with her more.

Some hours later, a crew member asked if they could hold my baby so that I could have my food as I had missed the meal when we had departed. They were prepping a meal for me so that I could eat before anyone else and wanted to ensure I got something before landing. Their kindness left me gobsmacked. The little one could not have been happier – he was taken around the cabin, stood in the galley, and passed from one flight attendant to another, all playing and chatting with him, giving me 20 minutes to sit and eat unencumbered. Manna from heaven.

Once we landed in Sydney, the cabin manager helped me get my things sorted, while my son was passed from person to person so all could say their goodbyes. My pram was set up for me by staff and I was able to make a quick getaway to passport control. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the hormones, but really I think it was the support I received: I was almost sad to say goodbye to these people who had made this journey so pleasant.

I know that not everyone will have a positive experience travelling for so long on their own with a baby. But I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed in all the people who told me not to make the journey.

I couldn’t say it was easy, as I was utterly exhausted by the end of it. And sure, my son won’t remember the trip we took. But I will, and so will his 88-year-old great-grandmother – all because I didn’t listen to people’s advice.

How to do it

Singapore Airlines now operates direct flights five times a week from London Gatwick to Singapore and beyond – this includes connecting flights to seven destinations across Australia on an A350 aircraft; the service will run each day from April 2025. Return fares start from £1,036 in economy if booked by 31 March 2025; for more information and to book, visit singaporeair.com

Belle Cooper travelled as a guest of Singapore Airlines.

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