The Day I Lost Him

With all the influx of news of wandering and the abuse the Lynch family is receiving over their precious baby, I can't help but get upset.

Don't judge unless you know. Don't judge unless you've been there. Quit telling Neil Armstrong what it's like to be on the moon.

Ok. Maybe you don't know Mr. Armstrong but it is essentially what is happening.

These kiddos make professional escape artists look like amateurs.

My son wanders. He has along history of elopement from the time he was 2 and could walk off. He knows no fear. He loves water and we happen to live next to a rather giant body of it up here in the northeast corner of the country. So close, in fact, I could throw a rock into one of the Great Lakes. He knows how to swim. He attended the local YMCA for 8 years. His Autistic Support class at school also goes swimming once a week during the year. It's not fool proof, but it's a step in the right direction.

Two years ago, I lost him. Heck, all 5 of us in the house lost him and 3 of them were fireman. We were out in my sister's neck of the woods at her friend's house while sis's husband and the friend's hubby looked at my SUV. My sister, her friend FFK (who was pregnant at the time), me and our collective troop of kiddos hung out in the house. A and I had never been there before, but knew the people who lived there (FFK and her hubby FFM) We were there for a couple of hours without incident.

We were huddled around the kitchen island (the kitchen was an open space with the dining room and living room) while the kids all played in the living room just a couple of feet away. A has always had a love/hate relationship with my nephew Z. It goes way back to when Z was little (he is 2 years younger than A) and how he has ADHD and always wanted to play (he was a bit too intense for A) and A very much wanted to be left be. Naturally.

Some type of altercation happened between A and Z and both got yelled at by me. One was put on one couch, the other was put on another couch, and time out ensued. A was seething. At this point I don't recall what happened or why he was mad. But the kiddo was very upset (part of the reason for the time out, to help him calm down).

Then it happened. No warning. No sound. It just happened. I blinked and he disappeared. My sister said something to me, I turned to answer, when I turned back just a few seconds later, he was missing. I figured he went to the bathroom or went to another room to get away from Z. A quick bathroom check... No. So we check the room downstairs... No. Garage... No. Well, crap... We go outside.

He's nowhere to be seen. We had been calling his name but he is not answering (he was capable).

5 minutes....

We check the pool. We check the house again, around furniture, closets, under the couch (seriously, you'd be surprised where they'll squeeze into), the bedrooms. Nothing. I go back outside while FFK continues to search the house. My sister joins me shortly after. (FFM and BIL- also a FF- are out in my car test driving it). We walk around the house and check the neighbor's yards, calling his name. Nothing.

10  minutes....

Panic sets in. Where is my son? Why won't he answer? How far could he have traveled? I can see across the fields surrounding the house and I see nothing. The forests (we were in the countryside) are beyond the fields on each side. A major roadway is off to the north. Could he have made it to the woods that quickly? Could someone have picked him up off the road that soon? I start walking. I'm screaming his name...

15 minutes....

Still nothing. FFK is still searching the house. Since she's pregnant she got left to mind the house and kids and watch to see if he comes back. She keeps searching the house. My sister is traveling in the opposite direction of me. She spots her husband on the roadway but can't reach him, he's too far and cell service is bad in the area. Should I call the police? Will they think I'm a bad mother? Where is my son? Why did he run away from me? Could he have made it to the woods? What if he get's hurt? What if we can't find him? He'll never survive the night alone...

20 minutes...

I'm in a full panic. I get a text message out to M. He can't get to me but asks me to keep him posted. Grandma has been called (I don't remember by who). She's out of town so she can't help. I'm still screaming my son's name. Walking across the field towards a baseball field. Is he hiding in the dugout? Why won't he answer? Where is he? Why? Why? Why?

25 minutes...

M asks for an update. Still nothing. I'm still walking. Screaming. Now I'm crying. Should I call the police? Search and rescue? What if they say I'm a bad mother? What if they take him away from me? I'm with the very firemen who would search for him... If BIL wants to bring in reinforcements, ok. I love my son! I am a good mother! Why did he run off on me?

30 minutes...

I'm crying. I'm hoarse. I can barely get his name across my lips. I'm still walking. Still searching. Sobbing. Where can he be? Is he in the woods? Why won't he answer? Did someone take him? He'll never survive the night.... My mind is racing with grotesque images and every worst case scenario... Wolves.... Bears... Creeks.... Strangers....

35 minutes...

M messages me again. Do I need him? He's still delayed. Sis gets BIL. BIL and FFM start driving around the roadways looking for him, they hadn't seen him yet. FFK says he's still not around the house. Another friend joins the search and goes another direction. I can barely yell his name. Grief has taken over. Am I a bad mother? No! Stop thinking that!

40 minutes...

I can barely move. I can't see through my tears. I'm still walking... I'm on the verge of becoming a useless heap in someone's field. Where is my son? Why can't we find him? BIL doesn't see him on the roads. They keep looking. He'll never survive the night... Will they take my son away? Why did he do this? Why did he run? Where is he? Why can't I find him?

45 minutes...

I'm in the field. I can't move. I can't see. I could have been crawling at that point for all I know. Panic and grief have completely taken over... I'm lost. I feel hopeless. I feel like he's gone...

Suddenly I hear my name. The friend who joined the search is running towards me with the house phone. He's yelling. Running full speed to me.

They found him.

Words cannot describe how I felt. Where did they find him? Is he ok? Why did he do it?

I flew back to the house... I was completely overcome with a mix of relief, joy, and (I admit) anger.

Sheer luck brought him back to me. Yes, I said it, LUCK. FFK found him when she caught him sneaking back into the house.

I hugged him. I hugged the stuffing out of that kid. I'm pretty sure I hugged him so tight his eyes were threatening to pop out of his head. I cried some more. I asked him why he didn't answer me, why he didn't respond when he heard his name. I was angry. I was upset. I was hurt. He sat there, mute, unanswering. He didn't know why. Or at least (as I understand now) he had no way to tell me. He knew what he did. You could see it in his eyes. He kept saying he was sorry. He cried.

He was within 2 steps of me for the next 2 hours until we left. He had to remain within eyesight of me. Two.Steps.Away at most. This did mean he spent a considerable portion of his afternoon sitting on the garage floor.

Two years later, I know. I understand. He was mad. He was upset. He wanted to get away from being upset. So he walked off. He was taking a break in his mind. Escaping.

You think it won't happen to you, but then it does. We no longer have time outs. We now have time ins. If you don't know what that is, it's the exact opposite of a time out. Instead of him going to a corner or couch, he sits right next to me. Literally. Until I say he can go, he's stuck hip to hip with me. Time outs are too dangerous now.

To this day he still wanders but nothing like that day. I am lucky in that. Grateful even. He is now afraid of losing me (not sure why but I'm not going to argue the result). He now keeps me within eyesight. 

Locks have been installed (see previous post here) and continuous measures have been taken. I am constantly adjusting as he ages and gets bigger, more independent in ability and thinking. I honestly don't know what I will do when he's bigger than me and older. What will I do when I can no longer force him to hold my hand? I can't harness him. He won't fit into a stroller. I dread those days to come.

The fear remains. It's ever constant. I am hyper-vigilant. I have to be. I became the helicopter parent I never thought I'd have to be. The fear never leaves me. The store. School. Grandma's house. M's house. Aunt's house. It.Never.Leaves.

I will do what I need to in order to keep my precious baby safe.

Rest in peace Mikaela Lynch, Owen Black, Andrew Howell, and Freddie Williams. Angels taken from us far too soon.

Big Red Safety Box
Project Lifesaver
Autism Wandering and Elopement Initiative

I Just Need a Lot of Love, Mom

The past couple of nights have held the same cycle for us. The kiddo gets sent to bed. He comes downstairs pretending to sleepwalk. He walks over, curls up in my lap, and pretends he's fast asleep.

If I try to move him he puts on a pretty convincing performance of being asleep and unaware.

Well, convincing if it wasn't for the grin on his face. Oh how he warms my heart!

Tonight it was different.

On his way up the stairs to go to bed he dropped his container holding a bunch of food shaped erasers. He started freaking out about it because he knew he was supposed to be upstairs and he was still in the hall scrambling to pick them up. He gets upset when things don't go according to plan because he knows it can lead to "unexpected" behavior (thanks to his bsc for that gem.... /sarcasm) which really only serves to upset him more. I hear him scrambling and ask him what's going on.

I'm met with panic, whining, and him making his usual freak out noises.

I ask him again what is going on, hoping he'll just say it (I can't see him because I'm still in the living room). Same response. So I get up and to go see. He hears me walking and starts freaking out more. I walk in, assess what's going on, I tell him it's ok and to simply finish picking them up and get his teeth brushed.

I leave the hallway, hoping he'll calm down once he realizes that he was not in trouble. I hear him go upstairs and think everything is ok.  Not so much...

He's back on the steps and freaking out again. So I go investigate. By the time I get to him he's in full freak out mode. He's running to me, then away from me. He's covering his face with his hands. He's on the verge of simply falling to a heap on the floor. He can't find one of them.

I ask if he checked under the dresser in the hall. He's so busy freaking out that he tells me he can't look. Very typical when he's upset. He literally loses control and even if you walk him through something, he's just frozen and can't figure out how to do it. He just falls apart with any further attempt. So I look. It's not anywhere I can see. I tell him just to run upstairs and check his room where he has the others and make sure he actually dropped it.

Insert another freak out. I tell him he may have to go without for tonight as he has to get to bed for school and I can find it tomorrow.

Wrong answer mom.

This sent him totally over the edge. This is usually how he would respond if it was a Mario plush toy. He was crying, freaking out, total negative self talk, and talking about how he couldn't do without it.

Oy.

I have a feeling he never lost it since I can't find it anywhere. Next task? Get him back up to his room and see.

After practically carrying him upstairs, he goes running into his room and lands on his bed. His lamp isn't even on yet. This is a sure sign that all is not right. He's petrified of the dark... So I turn on his lamp, ask him where they are, and to check.

Wrong again mom...

He's now throwing himself around on the floor crying. Ok, so I will check. Lo and behold...

Yeah, he never lost it.

He immediately freezes again, panics, starts crying all over again, and repeatedly tells me he's sorry he didn't listen and check.  I keep telling him it's ok and he's just tired, he has it now, so let's go to sleep. I assure him that I love him and leave his room.

He comes down not too long later with a note and huge pout. I have him sit next to me and ask what is wrong. He's just crying. I read the note and it reads: Dear Mommy my haert (sic) is broken :( </3 :( :( from A. :( </3 </3

I give him a hug and tell him everything is ok and that I love him. He tells me he just needs some love.

Oh, this momma has lots of love to give! So we sit. Him snuggled into my side. I "give" him a piece of my "heart" (a total pantomime gesture he started long ago with me when he was sad and was missing pieces of his heart and would ask for pieces of mine to make his heart whole) to help his heart feel better.

He smiles. He feels better. He tells me he just needed a lot of love. I said, ok. Then he says: If I ever have too much love then I will always be happy.

Heartmelt!

We go back upstairs. I tuck him in again. He smiles all happy and snuggles into his blanket.

Half an hour later he is "sleepwalking" down to me and snuggles back in my lap.

I'd say all has returned to our normal.

As he lays sleeping and I sit pondering all of this I can't help but think: how true is what he said? "I just needed a lot of love." In that moment when he was upset, confused, frozen, etc, all he needed was a little bit of love for those dark skies open right back up again. And he knew it. His self awareness reappears again.

I admit, I met him with some frustration. He has school tomorrow, he's good at delays, heck I'm just tired after this long weekend... I stand corrected. He needed met with love.