I know this is a sort of rite of passage that all (or at least most) parents experience at some point, but several hours later I'm still shaken. I lost Mazie today. For probably only 10 minutes or so, maybe even less, but they were some of the scariest minutes I can remember. Of course she's fine, but there's a part of me that's still stuck in "What if" mode. So, so grateful....
Here's what happened. I picked Mazie up from Jen's this afternoon and we drove home. We played together downstairs for a bit, and then I folded some laundry and needed to take it upstairs. Mazie wanted to go play in the backyard, and I told her she needed to come in, but she insisted that she wanted to stay outside, so I made her promise to stay in the yard and told her I'd be back in a minute. "Can I go here?" she asked, walking along the back of the house. "Sure," I told her. She's generally very good at listening and following instructions, so I trusted her not to take off. I went upstairs and put the clothes away, then came back down and walked out into the yard... and she was gone. I looked quickly around the yard and didn't see her anywhere, called her name and she didn't answer, went back inside and called her again... and started to panic. I walked to the front of the house, out into the side yard, looked up and down the street, raced back through the backyard to the alley, looked in our cars parked in back and in the garage, calling "MAZIE!" more and more frantically. Most of my brain was still telling me that she was fine and that everything would turn out okay, but with each second of looking and calling and not finding I was getting more desperate... what else could I do? I decided to call 911. Gave them my address and name, and then they asked what was happening and I told them my 3 year old daughter was missing. I continued searching our house and yard while I gave them details... how long it had been since I had seen her (5 minutes? maybe 10?), what she was wearing (THINK... okay, matching white t-shirt and skirt with little hearts), any recent domestic disputes or threats (nope), had she done this before (no). I kept calling her while I talked, and at some point saw that our neighbors across the street were home and raced over to tell them that I couldn't find Mazie... so Cameron and 5 year-old Julian took off to do a lap around the block calling her name. I went back to the backyard and noted aloud to the 911 guy that our dog was out in the yard with her. "Is the dog still there?" he asked. "Yes," I said, and the tiny piece of my brain that was still rational and not completely terrified told me that this was a pretty good sign that the worst (someone coming into the yard and snatching her) was unlikely -- Wiley is a big dog that can be wonderfully scary if you don't know him. This little tidbit gave that small clump of rational brain cells a jolt, and the next thoughts were, "The gates are still closed and it would be really unlike her to just take off on her own," therefore, "She HAS to be somewhere in the yard." And then I looked down the side of the house and saw the bike trailer. It had actually caught my eye earlier, but at the stage when I was trying to cover as much ground as I could as quickly as possible, and so when I called and she didn't answer I kept moving. Now I walked quickly toward the trailer, which was facing away from me, and called, "Mazie!!" one more time, and when I was about 5 feet away I heard a sweet, quiet, singsongy, "Right he-re!" I got to the trailer and before I even saw her a wave of relief washed over me and I told the 911 guy, "I found her." I think I repeated it 4 or 5 times as I opened the trailer and found the most beautiful little girl in the whole world sitting there with a very confused look on her perfect little face. "Are you sure?" the 911 guy asked, and then told me a car was on its was over to check in and make sure everything was okay. I thanked him 2 or 3 times and hung up, then picked up Mazie and heard Cameron calling her name in the alley... yelled to him that I found her, and he and Julian (poor kid) came in through the back, and then there was a knock on the side gate and two police officers let themselves through. I don't really remember the conversations at that point... the cops were very friendly and asked if everyone was okay. I thanked them for getting there so quickly, and one of the cops said, "Yeah, we had cars all over Louisville heading this way," and then there was a bit of sorting out who was who (Cameron and Julian being the helpful neighbors, not the scared dad and brother of the missing kid), and mostly I just thanked everyone a lot and squeezed Mazie very tightly and then everyone left (I saw a few more cop cars drive by over the next few minutes) and I tried to explain to Mazie what was going on... that I had been very, very worried about her because I didn't know where she was, that I was calling her and calling her and she didn't answer. "But I DID answer," she said, which was true... so I tried to explain that the problem was that I had been calling her for a long time before she eventually answered.... I also told her that I was very happy that she had followed instructions and hadn't left the yard... but that hiding from Mommy without telling me she was hiding wasn't a good idea.
Tonight as she was going to bed I heard her repeating a lot of this lecture to her baby doll... so hopefully it registered. On my end, still processing the whole thing and shaking off the lingering trauma... I'm not and was never for a moment angry with Mazie -- she followed my instructions, like I thought she would, and just thought she was playing a game with me. Will I leave her alone in the yard again? Maybe not tomorrow while I'm still shaking this off, but the truth is I want to give my daughter that freedom and trust. Mostly I'm just really, really grateful that this ended the way it did, and that in the moments when my brain was racing around trying to process everything that was happening, one fleeting thought was, "At least she knows I love her." Of course I spent the rest of the evening hugging her and repeating this over and over and over.... Like I said, a parental rite of passage. Not to be repeated again soon, I hope.
2 comments:
"At least she knows I love her." And then Fran bursts into tears....This was lovely. And you're so right -- it does generally happen at least once. And it is generally a pretty good indication that you're letting your child experience some freedom. Once, when I brought Charlie into the urgent care office for his SECOND round of "something-needs-to-be-glued-shut" kind of injury, I sort of apologized to the doctor for putting my child in harms way -- twice! He reassured me that he worries more about the families that keep their kids on a leash so tight that they never have to come in to their local urgent care. And now I can see his wisdom. But I will also add -- God Bless Dermabond...
Do you remember my story about Emily not beng in her bed when I checked after I had been out and the baby sitter had gone home (to the house next store)? I checked *everywhere,* even the toaster oven. (What -The burglars had perhaps cut her in pieces??) I have never been as panicked in my entire life and finally called 911.As the cops pulled up in the driveway, I found her in the playroom, in her little pink and white nightie, asleep atop a pile of dollies and stuffed animals.
So I can remember the panic AND relief AND utmost love, even 30+ years later. A story you will NEVER forget. Love you all and can't wait to see that little rascal next week!
Post a Comment