A Heck of a Week

Well, I lost Emmett on Wednesday. Cue intense mortification.

He is fine, thank goodness. Everything is fine, except for my heart rate and my pride. We have a gate in our side yard that is always, always locked. But a friend came to visit that morning, and she came in the gate to meet us in the back yard. I didn't think to check and make sure she'd closed it on her way out. BIG mistake.

So after Emmett's nap we headed outside to play in the back yard. I went to grab laundry out of the dryer (our laundry room is outside, accessed from our side yard,) and brought it inside to fold. After a couple of minutes I went to check on Emmett and couldn't find him. I heard faint crying, so I ran all over searching the garage, the back yard, all of the rooms in the house, and couldn't find him. Near panicked by now, I headed for the side yard to check the laundry room and found the gate to the front yard wide open. I flew through that gate faster than I think I've ever moved in my life to see a big blue truck parked halfway into my front yard. I found Emmett crying in the arms of a strange man, who was on the phone with the police.

My first thought was that Emmett had wandered into the street, chasing Bagel, and was hit by the truck. Thank God, he wasn't hurt. The man was driving by and saw Emmett following Bagel down the sidewalk with no adult in sight and he stopped. Thank God. He couldn't figure out which house Emmett belonged to, so he called the police. When I ran out, he told the dispatcher that he'd found the mother and everyone was fine, gave me a tiny little lecture, and took off.

I've never hugged Emmett so hard in my life. I called Ray and begged him to come home. I knew the police were coming and I couldn't fathom facing them on my own. I was mortified. And terrified, and a million other things all at once. But most of all I was relieved that nothing terrible had happened. Thank God.

I am so grateful to that man who stopped to pick up Emmett and keep him from coming to harm in the street. I'm thankful to him for not yelling at me or lecturing me too hard or making me feel worse than I already did. He was kind and gentle with both of us and I'm sure he must have been an angel.

Ray came home and calmed me down, and left again after 20 minutes or so. The police hadn't come, so I thought we were in the clear. They finally showed up after about 45 minutes (isn't that insane?! You'd think a missing child would warrant a fast response!) and said they just stopped by to make sure everyone was okay. They were menacing and scary but kind. Thank God.

I've heard countless stories in the last couple of days from other moms who've been through similar nightmares, and even though they don't make me feel better or less foolish, they do help. I learned a major lesson about keeping an eye on Emmett and checking all exits before letting him outside, and I'm not sure I'll ever forget the endless heart attacks I felt at the thought of him being hurt or lost, even for a few moments.

Needless to say, I feel like an idiot/bad mom/total disaster. I had a hard time not beating myself up all night long. Then, after a night of tossing and turning, I woke up to Ray realizing I'd left the door to the refrigerator open over night and all the food had gone bad. Fail.

Thank God each day is new and fresh. Rather than holding on to that feeling of defeat and self doubt, I decided that the day could only get better, and I was going to do better. As a mom, wife, refrigerator closer, and everything else.

Please tell me you've had an experience like this. Just knowing other mamas- amazing mamas who I admire and respect- have also been through something like this makes me feel better. So please, tell me your stories!

And have a great weekend!