A few weeks ago, I lost my son momentarily. For about 15-20 minutes we couldn't find him anywhere. Which feels like a really freaking long time to lose your kid. My dad and step mom were in town and went to the children's garden at the arboretum which is essentially an outdoor museum for kids. The path winds down from the main entrance with different exhibits or zones along each side. There are lots of sharp turns and hidden areas and small spaces for kids to climb because that's fun for kids. It is not such a fun layout when you're trying to find your kid.

We had just finished the maze which my five year old thought was SO fun. At one point during the maze I looked at him and said in my serious mom voice, "It's really crowded here today. I want you to have fun, but please make sure you stay where I can see you." We hadn't been back to the children's garden in well over a year for obvious reasons and as we started down the path towards the weather exhibit I thought to myself, "wow he is going to love this. He is just the right age for all of these STEM lessons to really click." I gave myself a mental pat on the back for bringing him to a place where he could learn and play and connect so well with the material. (I had just broken the parenting tip no one tells you: don’t get cocky)

I yelled back at my two year old to catch up while simultaneously looking up to see my son running ahead and laughing as if we were playing a game of tag. I yelled his name a few times, each time with increasing volume and intensity. And finally shouted, "FREEZE" which usually does the trick when I mean business. As I made the final turn down the path, now with my two year old in my arms, I looked up expecting to see him "frozen". But he was gone. Just gone. My step mom was already starting off in his direction and I handed my daughter off to my dad while I ran ahead.

So far, sure this is scary. I was trying to stay cool and not look like some crazed mother. I really thought I'd walk into the next exhibit area and he'd be there. But he wasn't. And he wasn't in the next or the next or the next. The three of us - my dad, step mom and myself - covered as much ground as we could looking in tree houses and up ladders and inside caves and in all the fun areas that would be SO cool if you weren't trying to find a five year old in a sea of people. I kept thinking, “Oh he'll be right up here,” and then I'd get there and it would be some other boy with some other family and my heart rate would pick up and the fear would creep up higher in my throat.

After about five minutes (which felt like an eternity), I ran up to the indoor learning center. The two women behind the desk must have seen the fear bulging out of my eyes because they both immediately stood up. I shouted, out of breath and my voice cracking, "I have. (gasp). lost (gasp). my child." Within seconds security and employees on walkie talkies were covering every last inch of the children's garden and made sure the front entrance was blocked so he couldn't leave. (Shout out to the Dallas Arboretum - they knew exactly what to do.) She told me to stay put so they could find me once they got him and I thought surely he'll be here in no time.

As I waited, I looked around scanning the park expecting to see him trailing up the hill with an officer. But I saw nothing. No one was coming with my boy. I heard the muffled walkie-talkie sounds of security personnel stating their name and location followed by, "He's not here". And then my mind went to the darkest of places. Pure, raw, panic that he was gone. That he had been injured. That he was scared. That he had been taken.

I started running toward the woman from the front desk as she was listening to someone on her walkie. They asked for reconfirmation of what he was wearing. (Side note: they never wanted to know his name because they didn’t want strangers to hear us yelling his name.) She told them again that he was in a blue and white striped shirt and had glasses and then I heard a faint, "He's here. He's at the kaleidoscope behind the blocks."

Oh, thank God. I thought. Now that I knew where he was, my fear dissipated into anger. How could he just run off? And then my anger was quickly blanketed by shame. How could I let this happen?

What kind of mother loses her son? What kind of mother doesn't have enough discipline for her son to listen to her. What kind of mother takes her kids to a busy place on a busy day. What kind of mother lets her son get lost.

We reunited and he was a bit stunned, but still had a nervous smile. He later told me he started to get really scared when we didn't find him quickly. The security guard and myself both gave him a stern talking to and then we met up with dad and step mom and we all burst into tears. We sat on a bench for a while to let the adrenaline stop coursing through our veins. We talked and talked about why that was a bad choice, the danger that could have happened, and on and on. And then we left. 30 minutes into our fun day and the fun was over. I think that's when he knew it was serious, when we weren't going back into the park. We talked more on the way home and again at home with my husband.

In the days and weeks that have followed, when recounting this story with friends, there's been one piece of advice that is given over and over. Tell your child, if they are lost to find a mom. Look for a stroller. Tell the mom you need help. Kids usually see other kids first and where there are kids, there is a parent. Unfortunately, these days not everyone in uniform may actually be what they are dressed as. But a mom will know what to do.

Especially since my son has a speech disorder (more about that here) that often causes him to panic and “lose his words” when under pressure, I am going to purchase these shoe tags that have my phone number on them. Better safe than sorry. And our summer homework is to memorize my phone number. A friend of mine suggested using a song to do so (she used the tune of frere jacques) and practicing with hopscotch using the numbers in my phone number.

Two books have also helped us recap feelings when you get lost and the impact of our choices: "The Story About Ping" (a classic!) and "What Should Danny Do?" both deserve spots on your bookshelves, whether or not your child has ever run away.

The other obvious takeaways are of course, don't let your child out of your sight, set rules, explain why rules exist (to keep us safe), delicately explain that there are bad people in the world, and put the fear of God in them that if they ever run away they won't see the glow of a TV screen or ipad again ever.

As for the mom guilt, it's still there. We both learned our lessons that day, though. In hindsight, I hope that losing my five year old for twenty minutes is the worst I'll ever do as a mom. And I thank the Lord that this was our outcome that day. Thank you, God.

Alternate ending: Anyone child-leash companies taking on brand partnerships? ;)