Jacob
And His
Photographic
Face
Jesus Christ!!! This mother thing is absolutely killing me!
I decided to take in a neighbor's son to add to our own brood when they closed the school on Friday. (See Day Fifty-Three: It Takes A Village.) It also happened to be October 30, the day that some brilliant bureaucrat decided it should be our town's Trick-or-Treat night. The night before was the annual Pumpkin Stroll at the elementary school, so I got the bright idea to go back to the school and get the kids' pumpkins for the onslaught of candy hounds. Sounds logical, festive, a good mother sort of thing...WRONG!!!!
I parked the van at the trail head a short distance from the school and got all five kids out to find our carved pumpkins. The four older boys ran ahead and Jacob stayed with me. One by one, all the kids returned to us near the start of the trail with their pumpkins. That is, all but Jack. My poky Jack. Everyone but Jacob deposited pumpkins at my feet and ran off to get him. Jacob looked up from poking a gushy, rotting pumpkin and declared he wanted to go too. No, I told him, stay with me. "But Moooommmm....I wanna go tooooo." Okay, okay. So go. At that exact moment the little voice in my head (the one I swear always knows what's what) said clearly, "This is a bad idea."
A few minutes pass and all four boys arrive at the van just as I do. No Jacob. This trail is a circle, so I just figured he stopped to torment another gross pumpkin. I sent the boys back the way they came and I turned around. No panic, just annoyance. We meet and still no Jacob. PANIC. I run the entire trail screaming his name, full throttle. No Jacob. In my head I'm chanting, as if in prayer, "He's already back at the van. He's already back at the van." I found all four boys back inside the van as directed. No Jacob.
As I scan the van and realize he is not inside, my stomach drops about 40 floors and my mouth fills with the metalic taste of pure terror. I grab my cell phone and with shaking hands dial 911. May I remind you that I am in the woods in New Hampshire. Granted, I am only about 12 miles from Portsmouth, Route 95 and civilization, but I am still in the woods. I don't get to talk to someone at a local police department, I get the New Hampshire State Police. There is no direct dispatch to Madbury Police. I supposed I am lucky there is even a Madbury Police. My head is screaming "this is taking too long!" I am directed to stay at the van where an officer will meet me in three to five minutes. Are you fucking kidding me? I am going to stand by the van and wait?! I sent Jack and his friend to the school to get help, screamed at the other two to wait for the police and I ran off once again.
Now I am running again around the trail and screaming Jacob's name so loud I think my lungs will burst. No answer. I'm thinking, "this is NOT good." There reason I am thinking this isnot good because Jacob is, bar none, the loudest child I have ever encountered. He sets off the dog bark deterrent when he is playing outside. His wailing whine can shatter glass. He cares not for quiet time, whispering or even talking at a reasonable volume. If he is in earshot, he should be able to answer me and be heard. I hear nothing except the eerie sound of songbirds flocking before heading south for the winter, just beyond trail. I am also thinking that the weird bird noise is a bad omen. This thought frightens even more.
By now I am running through branches, vines, thorns, mud, puddles; anywhere searching to see if he fell after he wandered off the trail. I am completely out of my mind on the inside but my body has taken over. I am running and screaming. I don't stumble, feel out of breath or even contemplate stopping. Horrible images are flashing through my mind- he fell and drowned in a pool of water; he was snatched by some psycho we didn't see on the trail; he fell and hit his head on a rock and he is dead. How do I tell my husband our baby is dead? How do I get a search team with a rescue dog here in 30 seconds? What the hell kind of mother lets her 3 year old out of her sight on a wooded trail? This is God's way of punishing me for complaining that I have too many damn kids..on and on and on. Minutes are ticking away.
As all this is screaming is going on inside my head, I faintly hear my name in the distance from the direction of the van. "Terri....We Got Him!" I looked up and saw a woman I didn't know heading toward me. "We got him." I collapsed in sobs. I couldn't stop shaking. I thought I was going to throw up. She had to half carry me out of the woods. Then I see a police car. It becomes clear to me that Jacob is inside. I jog to the backseat, open the door and there he is. Right as rain. Not a care in the world. He doesn't look upset, he is not crying nor does he look like he has been crying. He does looks a bit concerned that I am crying though. This little guy is going kill me for sure! I know his guardian angel needs a long vacation after this little escapade. I kept thinking, "He's alright. He's alright. Look again. He's alright."
It turns out that my independent minded 3 year old took off down the trail, then off the trail in a perfectly straight line directly onto the side of Route 155, which is by no means a safe road. A kindly mother (in a minivan carrying her own children, of course) spotted Mr. Independent coming out of the woods near the roadway. She stopped, grabbed him before the worst could happen and called 911. That is why it took so damn long for the police to arrive at the trail; they got a call about Jacob and went and picked him up before coming to see me. When I heard where he was found, I swear, I almost fainted. I have never fainted and have never come close to fainting, but I did when I thought about him being hit by a tracker trailer truck that has been known to barrel down that road at 50-60 m.p.h.
That was the longest most agonizing 15 minutes of my life. I wouldn't wish those 15 minutes on my worst enemy. I lost about 10 years off my life and gained about 10,000 gray hairs. Now have a life-long aversion to pumpkins, jack-o-lanterns and Halloween in general. Those damn pumpkins will be squirrel food next year. I sure as hell am not going to get them. Not next year, not ever again.
I bet the mom who I was doing the "favor" by watching her son is psyched that I decided to help her out on this particular day. I wonder if he will be allowed over to my house again. I'm sure I will see some counseling bills to remove the scaring for life that was provided with my babysitting service. As I say, it takes a village...
Great Cub Scout leader- I can't even keep my own kid on a pumpkin trial 1000 feet away from an Elementary School. I guess I should cancel the Mount Washington hike...
Moral of the story: Listen to your inner voice! It is always correct. I believe it is your best, smartest self or God's individual guardian angel. This voice speaks to us all when we most need to hear it. (Examples: "Don't buy/sell/eat that." "Don't say what you think you want to say right now." "Don't date/marry/sleep with him or her." "Yes, it makes you look fat/cheap/tacky." "Don't take that job/extra helping/chance." "Don't let your kid/pet/significant other out of your sight.") This voice is all to often ignored. If it not ignored, then it often cannot be heard over all the noise in our lives or all the noise in our head or both. When you do hear it, don't ever ignore it. This is a lesson I will NEVER, EVER forget. Learn from my mistake. Listen and hear what the voice tells you. It is always right. That really was a bad idea.
Oh, yah, go give a hug to the most precious people in your life RIGHT NOW. Life can turn on a dime. No joke.
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