I was about six months pregnant. My belly was big, but I was feeling good. I had energy and was happy to be spending a few hours alone with my toddler.
I had just dropped off my other son at his preschool and decided to go shopping with my toddler for a few hours. We were having a great time. We rode the escalator, we shared a pretzel and we pointed to colors and shapes that we saw in the mall. Then I decided to walk into a clothing store to look at kids’ clothes.
As I looked, my son continued to compete for my attention. “Look at me, Mama!” he would say as he tried to hide behind the clothes. “I see you,” I said, with only one quick glance up. “Oh, this shirt is SO cute! Do they have a 4T?” I became distracted by looking at all the cute little boy and baby clothes - so distracted that for a few seconds, I didn’t realize that my son was no longer hiding in the clothes next to me.
My thoughts snapped back to reality and I looked up. I didn’t see him. I called his name. No answer. We were in the middle of the store so I quickly moved up toward the entrance, calling his name and trying to look behind displays. When I reached the front of the store, I still couldn’t find him. I ran back to the display where I was when I realized that he was gone. There was a salesperson putting more clothes out. She had been there the whole time. “Did you see my little boy?!” I asked her loudly and in a panic.
“Uh, no,” she answered. She started to say something else but I couldn’t hear her. For a moment, I felt like the store was spinning and my stomach felt like I might throw up. I started searching again for him, making my way back toward the entrance of the store, this time pushing past people. I was looking behind hanging clothes, pushing them right out of the way where other women were looking. It was rude, yes. But it was because my son was missing.
Each time I called for him, my voice became louder and was beginning to crack. Two store employees ran up to me. “What is he wearing?!” one woman asked me. They stared at me but I couldn’t answer. No words were coming out of my mouth. “WHAT DOES HE LOOK LIKE?!” she asked me firmly this time. Her voice snapped me into answering. “He has light brown hair, brown eyes. He is wearing a red striped shirt and jeans. He will be three in a few weeks…” My voice grew softer as I spoke and I felt like my knees might buckle.
She spoke into her hand-held “walkie talkie” and gave the person on the other end the information that I had just told her. This store had two other sections, so it was a long store with three separate entrances. The music stopped and an announcement came over the loudspeaker. The voice said, “There is a lost child! He has light brown hair, brown eyes. He is wearing a red striped shirt and jeans. He is two years old!”
When I heard that announcement, I felt like the breath was sucked out of me. I was so frozen that I was afraid my legs wouldn’t move. But they did. I ran for the third time to the front entrance looking again in all the places that I had already searched. The store seemed silent except for my panicked voice yelling his name over and over. I looked into the mall. All I could think about was that if someone had taken him out of that store, he would be gone. And all because I was looking at T-shirts. How could I ever forgive myself or explain to my husband that I lost our precious son because I was looking at T-shirts? A lump formed instantly in my throat and my eyelashes were wet with the tears that were beginning to burn my skin as they fell down my checks.
What I didn’t remember until after the fact was that the other customers, other mothers probably, started to help me look. Everyone in that store was looking for my little boy. It was about 10 minutes (even though it seemed like an hour) before I heard a voice that yelled, “Here he is!” I rushed to her side as she pointed at my little boy that was climbing out from the front window display. “Hi Mom, you found me,” his sweet voice exclaimed, unaware that his game was no joke.
I could not even thank the woman that found him. I dropped to my knees on the floor next to him, grabbed him in my arms, held him over my big pregnant belly and began to sob. I was thankful. So very thankful.
I was impressed and grateful at how quickly the store reacted to a potentially dangerous situation, as well as the other customers that all took a couple of minutes to help a mother find her son. I also believe that it was a lesson for me. A lesson to teach me not to allow myself to become distracted and take chances with my kids. That day both my son and I had an experience that I hope will save us from a similar situation ever happening with a worse outcome. I hope this reminds other parents to ALWAYS be aware of their kids.
Did I buy any shirts that day? Not a chance. The price I almost paid was way too high.