No Judging Please - This Is Our Living Nightmare

Today my heart is heavy. Another Autism mother burys her beautiful child and will never be the same. That child is Mason and his story is so close to ours that it creates a sick panicky feeling in my gut and a lump in my throat the size of the world. 

Mason was 5 and had Autism. His sister was taking care of him when he escaped out his bedroom window to find a nearby pond full of delightful water that most Autistic children are drawn to. He drowned.

You ask, "How can this happen?" You wonder, maybe judge, "Wasn't she watching him?" I'll tell you - it happens fast.  Faster than lightning.  You cannot judge, all it takes is an instant. If you judge her, then you judge me, for Emily has escaped as well.

The first time was about a year ago. Everyone in the house was going about their business - the boys watching TV, and me folding laundry in the other room. I should also explain that this family lives their lives in 3-5 minute increments - meaning, every 3 to 5 minutes, someone checks on Emily. Checks to see if she has got into the lotion, shampoo or soap. Checks to see if her diaper is off and she is smearing her feces into the floor. Checks to see if she is downstairs playing in the cat box. Checks to see if she is in the backyard eating mud or sand. Checking, always checking. We had just checked on her...she was safe. I walked into the kitchen and I just KNEW. I felt it. She wasn't in the house. Panic races through your body and grabs your heart and your blood turns to ice.  It felt like it took forever to get to the front door, and once I did, I could hear the honking of horns. Oh God....NO! There, running down the middle of the road at dusk in a diaper is my daughter. Oblivious to the traffic, the horns, the screaming coming from her mothers lips - all she notices is how wonderful it feels to go fast and feel the wind whip into her body. I've said it before, but it bears repeating - SHE IS FAST. I catch up with her a block down the road, pull her onto the boulevard and weep.

The next day, locks go up, barricades are created, and everyone is on high alert. We are safe....or so we think. The thing about children with Autism is that they often have a one track mind when they want something and that thing becomes their world for that moment in time. Nothing, NOTHING else matters. Most often they lack the ability to sense danger, the ability to be cautious. Emily has no fear. No fear of water, fire, strangers, cars, dogs, height, or anything else you can think of that a neurotypical child would be cautious of.

Fast forward to this summer. A brand new park was put up in the neighborhood this summer, and although you can't see it from our house, it is just across the street and around a corner. Emily was playing in our fenced in backyard in the sandbox right under the livingroom window. Ben wanted to play UNO. So, I checked on Emily, and sat down in the living room under the window to play. Shuffle. Shuffle. Deal. "Ben, hop up and check on your sister please" A look of terror spreads across his face as he turns around, "MOM! SHE"S GONE!!!" Oh God, how can that be? I just looked into her eyes, just told her to not eat the sand, just to play nice. If the front door wouldn't have opened for me as I pounded it open I swear I would have made one of those people cut outs like you see on the cartoons when they go through a wall. Where, where are you baby? Oh God, WHERE ARE YOU!?!? I see no cars askew, no blood in the street, hear no cars honking and say a quick silent prayer to God for that. THE PARK! Taking off in my bare feet, I sprint towards the park and I see her, running towards the slide, sunlight bouncing off her hair.

Catching up with her I swing her up onto my hip and hug her as my tears wet her face, her hair, her smile. I can't hold her tight enough. I never want to let her go. "Shlyde!" she points, and laughs. She has no idea. All she wanted to do is slide. 

As we walk back, a car pulls up and a 20-something girl gets out. "Are you her mother?" a snotty tone rings out in my ear. "Yes, I am" I replied, now noticing how out of breath I am. "Well, what kind of a mother doesn't notice her kid missing? She was almost hit by two cars, one of them being us! Seriously, weren't you watching her?"

I wish I could tell you everything I said to that girl that day. Some of it I honestly don't remember, some of it I cannot repeat because my mother reads this. But I do remember saying to her, "It's called Autism, Google it B*tch." Anger. Fear. Exhaustion. My heart pounding and my legs screaming at me, I carry my daughter back to the house, put her on the sofa, and call my friend who also has a child with Autism and he wanders too. I start to hyperventilate as I choke and sob and tell her my story and weep and weep and weep. So close, I came so close. My Emily, my beautiful precious gift from the heavens could've been taken away from me in an instant. 

She had squeezed her way out of the backyard gate through a space that my cat has a hard time getting through....she wanted to go to the park. She wanted to slide.

All Mason wanted to do was play in the water.  And now, we all mourn the loss of yet another child and our living nightmare continues.....is our child next?