I have a lot of crazy dreams during pregnancy and one night I had this horrific nightmare that woke me from my sleep. It was that Z had fallen down some stairs (the details from the dream are too graphic for me to share) and I tried calling 911, but I kept hitting the wrong numbers. I shared this dream with a few people because it really stuck out in my mind.
The spooky thing is that later that week I did have to call 911.
It was a beautiful day and Z was playing outside while I was hanging stuff to dry on the clothes line. We have a big back yard and it is broken up into sections by trees so you can’t see everything at once. I check on Z periodically, but since we have a fence I don’t follow every little step he takes. At one point I noticed he was out of my sight so I checked around the corner and I still couldn’t find him, in fact I didn’t see him anywhere in the back yard. No big deal l thought, I must have left the back door cracked and he went inside. So I went inside and calmly called for him. Still no Z anywhere. That is when I started to panic, yet trying to convince myself to stay calm.
I checked the yard again with my heart starting to pound a little more with each passing moment. In my mind I was thinking he has to be here somewhere there is no way he can get out. I checked the house one more time frantically screaming his name. That’s when I realized that he is gone!
So I go to the gate that is in our drive way which was shut, but the meter man had come by and apparently he hadn’t latched it all the way. That is when my adrenaline kicked into overdrive and I began running through the neighborhood banging on doors, hoping someone can help me find my little boy. But NO ONE WAS HOME!
I called 911 and explained what is going on and they told me to wait outside of my house while they sent help. As I was standing there crying hysterically and pleading to God to help me I couldn’t take it anymore. I know the 911 dispatcher told me to wait, but I COULDN’T JUST STAND THERE WHILE MY 2 YEAR OLD WAS MISSING!
I had to take action, so I crossed the street and then I heard Z’s voice. At first I thought maybe I was imagining it. It was very faint because there was an extremely loud football game taking place at the end of the street, but I followed my gut and continued shouting Z’s name and crying out for help. Then two houses down I see him in the distance and I can’t move fast enough. There was my little boy in a tree house just sitting in the doorway happily with his feet dangling off the edge. The tree house wasn’t very high up, I could get him down without climbing the ladder, but still I thought my heart would just stop right then. It had done too much pounding over the past 15 minutes. I embraced my child and cried and cried some more while he just smiled and said “MAMA!” Then I called 911 so they could cancel the emergency.
I was still shaken up for a few days. Of course I felt like a horrible mother for loosing my child, but I have heard many many stories since then to reassure me that these kind of accidents can happen. At least I didn’t end up having a heart attack in the midst of it like I thought I was going to and hopefully still have a few years left before all of my hair turns grey from the stress of motherhood. All I can say is thank you Jesus for protecting my son.
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