Red shorts, white shirt. Mop of brown hair...

I had planned on writing a sweet, lovely memoir-type post about our gorgeous day at The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, IL. My hopes were to reminisce over the way the wind rustled the reeds around the dragon flies. Or how my children's eyes sparkled as they caught tiny tadpoles with the beginnings of legs budding... I particularly wanted to capture the feeling of a perfect day spent outdoors with my kids.

Try as I might, I cannot focus upon any of those. My mind keeps coming back to a sickening 6 minutes. Six minutes that I breathed faster, yelled louder and used every one of my senses to locate my son.

It's amazing how quickly your world can turn upside down...

I swear, he was only out of my sight for a moment. I assumed that he was up in the tower of a playground with my older son. I could see the shoes of 2 of my children (Justin and Corinne) poking out

from the tangle of unknown feet. So, as I have done many times in the past, I rested against a random tree and waited for them to finish their game. Then I heard Justin call out,

"Mommy, where's Evan?"

Thump, thump goes my heart...

"Isn't he up there with you?"

"No, I've been waiting for him to come up for forEVER!"

Thump, thump, THUMP...

As any parent who's lost a child knows, you instantly go into action. Your eyes dart around, looking for the white t-shirt and red shorts with a mop of brown hair. Everywhere you look, you see blonds and red heads. You see blue shirts and black shorts. But you don't see your child.

Your voice begins to escalate. Panic is held back by a stitch of thread as you realize that every lost child story begins this way. Visions of calling the police try to creep into your mind but you have to release them, so that you CAN find your baby.

I was lucky that I always try to dress my children in similar clothing. I had no moment of confusion over what he was wearing, as I had 2 other kids to model the combination for me. I had remembered to take a digital camera with me and had pictures of him, should anyone need to see what he looked like (I highly recommend this, especially when you chaperone for field trips). I was lucky that I have a 9 year old to help now. I had a partner who understood(to a degree) how important it is when I order, in a tight, tight voice, to start shouting for him NOW.

We began to search. Up the ladders, down the slides. Under the bridges, within the trees... Nothing. No red shorts with white shirt. No mop of brown hair hanging into chocolate brown eyes...

As I shouted, again and again, I began to dread the next step: asking for help. I knew that no more time should be wasted. If he was seriously lost, I SERIOUSLY had to find him now.

My final shriek of "EVANNN!!!" brought the most beautiful sound to a mother's ears:

"Yes, Mama?"

Tiny. Unsure. Nearby...

Hiding in a bush. Playing hide and seek with his brother, though he hadn't told anyone of his intentions.

I simply had to look into his eyes and hold his shoulders to let him know how terrified I had been.

I cannot describe the melting pot of emotions you experience when a lost child is returned because he was hiding... Relief, fury, joy, exhaustion... Each one overlapping the other so quickly, you can hardly stand up in their tide. The knowledge of the alternate outcomes literally makes your knees weak. It's hard to even look at your child, knowing how much their existence influences your life. How desolate and empty it would be to lose them...

When Tracey isn't misplacing her most valued treasures, she's writing at Just Another Mommy Blog.

Original Chicago Moms Blog Post.