A new blog post! Yeah, it's been awhile. The truth is I have been avoiding this moment for some time. I have reams of notes for five different blog posts. The problem is I promised myself I wouldn't write any of them...until I wrote this one. Today something beautiful and amazing happened with Evan. I ran to my computer to jot down some notes. I couldn't wait to write a post about the break though. But then I remembered the promise I made to myself. So, that post, with all it's touching moments of progress and joy, will have to wait. This one has to come first.
I've put four months in between that day and today. It still doesn't seem like enough. I mean, who in their right mind would want to revisit the most heart wrenching moment of their life? To write, I have to remember. To remember, I have to relive.
It had happened before. Two minutes at the water park. A minute in the hallway at school. But this was different. It was a beautiful October day. I was running errands in town with my best friend, Jackie. The kids were at home with our part-time sitter, Wendy. Evan was still obsessed with riding his bike and went for several bike rides a week. If it was two adults (my husband and I over the weekend or the sitter and I during the week) we would take a longer bike ride around the neighborhood. If it was just Wendy, she would take the kids on their bikes down the block and along the path that led to the field of the school behind our house. It was a quick jaunt, but they loved it. It was also quick enough that I felt comfortable with Wendy taking them on her own. She had been taking them a few times a week for about two months. But this bike ride would turn out entirely different.
Lia, Evan's sister who had just turned three years old, insisted on taking her tricycle instead of her bike. This one seemingly inconsequential variable seemed to set off the whole ugly chain of events. A bike can manuver over bumpy sidewalks easily. A tricycle - not so much. Lia kept getting stuck and Wendy had to turn back to help her over tree roots that jutted out and made for rocky terrain. After each time getting stuck, the space between Evan and Lia grew larger. She yelled over and over for Evan to wait, but he didn't. Then he saw a deer and off he went. Wendy went back and grabbed Lia, abandoning her tricycle. She chased after Evan, screaming at him to stop. He turned a corner and was out of sight. She felt she couldn't run fast enough carrying our 40 pound daughter. She yelled for help and a couple students who were practicing with the school band ran over. She asked them to watch Lia and she left to go find Evan. Wendy called 911 and then called me.
Jackie and I were picking up some clothes that were being altered and chatting with Sam the tailor (when you're 5' 3" you get a lot of clothes altered and you spend a lot of time with the tailor). When I saw my sitter's name pop up on my cell phone, I knew it wasn't good. She was hysterical. I only remember hearing the words "Evan," "bike," and the worst word of all - "lost."
I ran out of the store towards my car. I realized a few seconds later that Jackie had been yelling to me. Was she asking me a question? I turned to look back and she was gone. But I saw Sam standing on the curb. He was looking around, stunned, probably wondering what he should do. I got in my car, crying, shaking, fumbling with my cell phone. Since I only processed three words from the call with Wendy, I had no idea if she had called the police. I dialed 911 as I honked and weaved my way through traffic. I was driving like a mad woman. Well, in that moment that is exactly what I was. In between distraught sobs, I told the dispatcher what had happened. I gave location details and described what Evan was wearing. And then I told him that my son was autistic. The dispatcher said, "we'll call his name and maybe he'll come to us if he's hiding." I screamed, "He's autistic! He will not come if you call out his name!" The dispatcher said, "maybe he walked to a friend's house." I screamed, "He's autistic! He does not walk to friends' houses!" The dispatcher tried to keep me calm, but my level of hysteria grew at every asinine thing the dispatcher said. He tried to tell me that screaming and driving like that was unsafe. Did he want me to go the speed limit and calmly follow traffic patterns? Then I started to think about the recent "stranger danger" incidents that had occurred in the area. I pictured my oblivious naive little boy happily climbing into a car - never to be seen again. If my maniacal driving could have gotten any more maniacal, it probably did. I wanted another dispatcher to call Wendy and stay on the line with her. I tried to retrieve her cell phone number from my phone. The dispatcher must have known that my crazy mental state combined with my demented driving and messing with my cell phone would be a bad situation. He told me to pull over and calm down while I got the phone number. I yelled, "you're fucking crazy if you think I'm gonna fucking pull over while my kid is lost. I am going to fucking drive home and find my fucking son!!!!!" Or something like that.
While I was on the line - I heard him talking to another dispatcher. As I turned onto my street, he told me the sitter found Evan and he was with her in our house. I parked my car in the drive way, but did not go in. Somehow I just knew Evan was not inside. My neighbor, John, came outside and followed me as I ran to the corner where four police cars were parked. I followed the path to the field behind the school. Four or five police officers rounded the corner and walked towards me. Jackie was there with Lia. Apparently, she had been asking me if I wanted her to drive. When I didn't answer she realized she should take her car because it was parked on the other side of town, closer to my house. She pulled over where she saw the police cars and found Lia playing with some of the kids from the band. Thank God for them.
John and his wife Jen took Lia back to their house as I approached the first officer I saw. I asked him, "where's Evan?" He said, "at home with the mother." I said, "I'm his mother!" I called Wendy. Through labored breaths and tears she said, "I have Evan, can somebody come and get me?" She physically couldn't walk. I told the officer to send somebody to get them. He tried to convince me that she was at the house. I yelled, "I am on the phone with her! She is sitting on a sidewalk! Go and get them!" During this time a different officer drove by and saw Wendy sitting on the ground with Evan and asked if she was OK. She begged the officer to drive them to where we were.
I spotted a police car pulling into the school parking lot. I ran across the field as Wendy and Evan (still wearing his helmet) ran towards me. I grabbed him and kissed him and held him- probably too tight for his liking. I don't remember what I said. I just remember walking across the field and not wanting to put him down - ever.
Wendy was a mess. She must have had a full on panic attack and well...she peed herself (which is the least she could do for losing my kid). After getting all the information, we parted ways with the officers. I think I thanked them and may have apologized in some capacity. We walked down the block and went to my neighbors house. I tried to talk to Evan about what had happened. He didn't really get what all the fuss was about. He seemed pleased that he got to ride in a police car.
I let Evan and Lia play with the neighbor's kids in their backyard. Jackie and Jen stayed while I went inside my house to see if Wendy was OK (and give her some pants). We were both still very upset and I told her to get some water and sit down and that I would be back in a few minutes. At some point I had given Jackie my phone and told her to call my husband, Steve. She had been calling him repeatedly, but kept getting his voice mail. His train had been stuck and he had no cell service. He had no idea what had gone on. At least he got to hear the story with the happy ending already attached. The kids played as Jackie, Jen and I recounted everything that had just occurred. I called Sam to tell him Evan was OK. He had been waiting for that call. I scrolled through my recent calls and checked the time that Wendy first called me. "Twenty minutes ago? That's not possible," I thought. I checked three more times. The whole ordeal had only lasted twenty minutes. It felt like so much more. Twenty minutes, but it probably took that many years off my life.
Eventually Jackie went home and Jen helped me get the kids settled inside. We sat down with Wendy at the kitchen table. I asked her to start at the beginning. I tried to piece everything together, not that it would ever be enough. Jen went home and Wendy's brother arrived to pick her up. She was still visibly shaking and wasn't okay to drive on her own. I stood alone in the kitchen while the kids played in the next room. I leaned on the counter and had a good cry. I noticed the time and realized I had to make the kids' dinner. They were probably hungry and bed time was fast approaching. Life goes on. But it will never be quite the same.
