Life flashed before my eyes or the Story of How I Almost Lost My Daughter and My Mind in 60 Seconds Flat

Today Sean and I decided on a mutually beneficial use of our afternoon where he would go to Will's shop downtown to use some tools he needed for his violin while I took Gillian to the Children's Museum to entertain her during an afternoon of awful weather. It is a great place to take her a) because it is free for me to take her there and b) getting dropped off makes it completely free. Plan began beautifully. Gillian and I had a blast. She loved playing with all the things and *gasp* they even had a room full of babies this time called "taking care" in the ever-changing "hands on" room. Gillian got to wash a baby in a bath tub and dry her (by the time she was done it was the cleanest baby that ever lived) and then put on a diaper and PJs and wrapped her in a towel, put her ina stroller for a walk, then gave her a bottle, rocked her in a rocking chair, and put her to bed. Hmmm...sounds vaguely familiar. We did all the exhibits. We climbed rope ladders, went down slides, played with butterflies, made choo choo trains out of builders supplies, and played with all the cool science stuff. Sean called around 4:30ish and asked if we could manage another hour and I told him we could, and I would take G to eat at around 5 and see him around 5:30 or 5:45 (he would be calling). So, per The Plan, Gillian and I headed to the food court at a little after 5.

The food court reminded me of an Indian Street Market-crowded, loud, and insane. I was really regretting not having the stroller as I went to one place to get my salad and another place to get Gillian's sandwich and she was running away for fun and spinning around in the throngs (probably one of the most stressful things I have done as a parent-getting food for us in a public place with no control over where she was). At that point I was wishing I had a few more arms and some dorsal eyes or maybe a leash for my ethereal dancing fairy daughter who was oblivious to the fact that she could be trampled or knocked down or kidnapped at any second. I couldn't hold her hand and our heaped tray of food at the same time.

I headed into the mess of tables and people and all their stuff and there wasn't a table to be seen anywhere, and the random ones I spotted had no chairs. I started to feel a little claustrophobic with all the people and strollers and winter coats laying across everything, but managed to find two chairs after asking every person in a 50 foot radius if they were using all of theirs. I got Gillian situated and we both ate peacefully for 10 minutes, and then she got bored with all the sitting business, and got down to resume her running back and forth to test her tether to me (and to test me in general) and maybe to see how many times I could say "Gillian, come here please. Stay near our table". NOTE TO SELF: NEVER EAT ALONE WITH YOUNG CHILD IN BUSY FOOD COURT EVER AGAIN. Not restful. Not relaxing. Stress. Finally I was finished and she ate the intermittent bite of ham and cheese until I was satisfied that she ate enough, and I got up to put the stuff from the tray in the trash can located 5 feet from our table. Then I turned around, and she was gone. Poof.

So in that moment that felt like thousands of moments all suspended in eternal spaces, I saw my life. The devastated mother whose daughter was kidnapped in a busy public place in a matter of 3 seconds when she turned her back, I saw them finding her dead from some sick monster of a criminal-my precious angel, my innocent sweet baby. My adrenaline kicked in, and my heart was pounding so hard I was having strobe light vision. I called for her. I looked around like I was crazy. I started looking at everyone with wild eyes yelling, "Have you seen my daughter??!?? Have you seen her???" She was nowhere. Nowhere. She just disappeared. I was sure she couldn't have run so far by herself. I ran back and forth like the criminally insane desperately looking for her in every chair, and in every face. After an agonizing amount of time (probably 45 seconds that felt like 5 minutes) and sympathetic looks for the lunatic (who was imagining she lost her daughter) from the masses, I, with canine ears, heard a little voice 50 feet away, and there she was at the table of another family across the food court. I ran and grabbed her, all teary and shaking and hugging her like she might evaporate, telling her to never never never do that again. I felt like God gave me another chance to safeguard my most precious thing, and I was grateful. I learned in that moment how your life can change literally in seconds. Someone could have grabbed her and taken off and she would have been gone, like a ghost.

So, out of sheer guilt for my terrible mothering, almost losing her, then scaring her with all my fear and love, we went to the Build a Bear Workshop. Gillian picked out a grey kitty cat to stuff, pushed the pedal to stuff it all by herself, chose a little and very special red heart from the bin of hearts, rubbed it between her little hands and gave it a kiss (because we want to always warm the heart of the things we love), and she put it inside the kitty before they laced him up. His name is Sam. And more than ever, I realized how fiercely I love her, and what her little life is worth to me, and how it could never be the same without her.