The other day I wrote about labels and my own emotions surrounding an ID bracelet for my daughter that would label her as ‘Autistic’.
About thirty minutes ago – in the blink of an eye – my entire perspective on labels changed dramatically. Forever.
RM was missing.
She had spied her brother riding his bicycle around the block and decided to do the same. Right under my nose. We live in a thousand-square-foot ranch. She was literally. under. my. nose.
She had taken the step stool from the bathroom and used it to reach the latch at the top of the front door.
It was ten minutes or so before I realized she was gone.
I had never felt so sick to my stomach before in my life. I couldn’t breathe.
I raced outside screaming for her. Screaming at the very top of my lungs with every bit of air I could squeeze in so that I could expel as hard and loud as any human ever had. I wanted the world to hear me. Because I knew my baby girl wouldn’t respond – someone had to.
I found her rather quickly. THANK GOD.
She was gearing up to get on her bike and take off in search of the fun her brother was having.
She smiled when she saw me and exclaimed, “HI, MAMA!!!” Completely unaffected by my panic and tears.
That damned bracelet cannot get here soon enough.
I am seriously considering the GPS tracker.
And now that the episode is over, both kids are tied up and stuffed in the closet – I’m having a drink.