On the eve of my 37th birthday I was flying from Barcelona to Paris with my girlfriend, Breejette. As the plane took off from Barcelona, I fell asleep on Breejette’s shoulder, hoping to catch a bit of shut-eye after a couple busy days of travel… Not even 10 minutes after take-off, as we were reaching our cruising altitude, we woke up to some commotion in the cabin. In the seat directly behind me, a girl was going into labor.

I know this sounds like the kind of thing that only happens in a movie, yet, as sure as the Earth spins, the 18-year-old behind me was having contractions. I very soon discovered that she was from Peru, and didn’t speak a word of English, or for that matter of French. Since it was an Air France flight, the flight attendants didn’t speak much Spanish.

As the commotion continued, I wound up turning around, sitting up on my knees, and facing the girl while holding her hands. I soon had to put my four years of French with Duolingo to use, translating the flight attendants’ questions from French into Spanish, and her clamoring replies, from Spanish into French. A true baptism by fire of my French proficiency.

We soon discovered that Melany (the 18-year-old girl in question) was only 7 months pregnant, but still 4 weeks short of the recommended 34-week flying cut-off for expectant mothers. The neighboring passengers started chiming in, saying these were only practice contractions, and that if it was her first child, she had at least 24 hours before going into the later stages of labor. All I could see was that Melany was in tremendous pain and that her contractions kept getting closer and closer in time.

I am not a doctor, or for that matter, any kind of medical practitioner, but from my little training in first aid during college, I do know that no matter the emergency, keeping calm and breathing is always a good idea. I locked eyes with Melany, and while holding both her hands, got her to count with me… One, two, three, deep breath in…. One, two, three, deep breath out…

We continued doing this over and over as the flight attendants worked to find a doctor or nurse on board. Eventually, a woman who had some nursing experience came over to help. As the screaming and contractions continued, the pilot walked over to inspect the situation. He took one quick glance, turned around, and went back in the cockpit. Within seconds, as if living through our own private Top Gun experience, the plane began propelling forward faster than any passenger jet I’ve ever been on.

For the remainder of the flight, I continued locked in this embrace, getting Melany to breath, and trying my best to distract her from her pain by asking her questions… “So tell me, do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” “Have you chosen a name?” “How wonderful would it be if she was born in Paris?” One, two, three, deep breath in…. One, two, three, deep breath out… “What did you visit while in Barcelona?” “Where in Peru are you from?” One, two, three deep breath in…. One, two, three, deep breath out…

We flew so fast that day that we did an almost 2-hour flight in a little over 45 minutes. Before we landed, I asked the expecting couple for their WhatsApp information and promised to stay in touch and help in any way we could. Breejette and I grabbed all the cash we had in our wallets and gave it to them, as we knew they were supposed to be on a connecting flight back to Peru, and didn’t have two pennies to rub together, much less money for food and a hotel.

When we landed in Paris we taxied straight to the gate where a contingency of French paramedics was already waiting on the jetway. Melany was carted away in a wheelchair along with her boyfriend Jair who had been in shock since this episode started. As they exited the plane, I was finally able to take a deep breath myself…

About 45 minutes later, after we collected our luggage and were on the taxi ride to our hotel, my phone started chiming with a WhatsApp notification. It was Melany and Jair. Melany had just given birth to a healthy baby girl. Both mother and baby were safe and sound. They had decided to name their new baby girl Ainhara.

I shared the news with my girlfriend and we hugged in relief inside the taxi. I then texted them back and suggested that, given that the baby had been born in France, she should at least have a French middle name, and I couldn’t think of a more beautiful name than Breejette. They agreed. The baby’s name was now Ainhara Breejette.

I always thought that when my time came to assist in the delivery of a baby, my job would be to cheer on, saying “Push! Push! Push!”. What I did that day, was the complete opposite. I like to think that my contribution came in the form of preventing the baby from being delivered on that plane, and somehow, miraculously, buying just enough time for her to be received by competent medical personnel. Fortunately, despite a turbulent start, mother and baby were now safe and being tended to by professionals.

I wish the story ended right here…

You see, baby Ainhara was born after only 7 months of gestation… and is, by such, what we colloquially call “a preemie”. For this reason, the doctors in France indicated that the baby should stay in an incubator for at least the ensuing 6 weeks before being allowed to travel back to Peru.

Due to their precarious economic situation, Jair and Melany had to fly back to Peru just two days after the birth of their daughter. They simply did not have the resources to stay in Paris. I tried putting them in touch with the Peruvian Consulate, but even they were unable to help. Jair and Melany have been back in Peru for the last 3 weeks, getting daily updates on Ainhara by text from the nursing staff at the hospital in Paris.

Ainhara, by reason only of her birth, will always be French, and the French government, in all its benevolence and magnanimity, has taken care of all the medical bills associated with her birth.

The time is nearing where Ainhara will be allowed to travel back to Peru, but unfortunately, her parents only have the resources to buy one plane ticket... They are even struggling to come up with the 100 euros necessary to pay for the paperwork for the baby to travel back to their native Peru with them.

Breejette and I are now back home in LA after completing our European travels. However, as honorary godparents, we feel like Ainhara’s parents should be able to travel back to France together to pick up their baby girl.

If you’ve read this far, that is where you come in. Breejette and I have put together a GoFundMe to help Melany, Jair and Ainhara. We figured that if we asked our friends for a small contribution, we could easily raise enough money to buy both parents a plane ticket, get them three nights at a decent hotel, and, if possible, to give them a little bit of spending money for meals and taxis while they are there.

Any help is appreciated, and naturally, if anyone has a connection to Air France that could perhaps get these flights compensated, that would be truly great. Similarly, if anyone knows of an apartment or hotel where they could stay free of charge for three days, that would also be very helpful.

Any help in the form or tags, re-tweets, or promotion on high-visibility accounts would help this cause significantly.

Breejette and I both believe that the moment I decided to turn around in my seat and hold Melany’s hand, we made a tacit agreement to see that this baby got a good start in life. We’ve been locked in that embrace ever since it started, and we would like to see these strangers get a good start to their parenting journey.

If nothing else, we think that Melany and Jair should have a picture standing in front of the Eiffel Tower holding their newborn baby girl. One day they might want to show that picture to their grandchildren as they recount the story of that eventful flight from Barcelona to Paris... And we hope that whenever they do, they will always emphasize the immense kindness that can come from total strangers.