The Day I Lost My Autistic Daughter
It started off like any other Friday morning. I was rushing around trying to get 3 kids out the door for kindergarten drop off.
There was a lot of “get your shoes on,” “are your shoes on yet,“ “that’s it we are leaving with or without the shoes.”
Finally, after loading all 3 kids into the mini van we were off. I parked on Varian Way the same street we have parked on since my oldest son started school last year. The kids got out and we set off.
Sadie ran ahead and I quickly yelled out “walking feet” and the run turned into her brisk walk.
You see Sadie is a runner. She has no fear and no sense a danger. It may be one of her most frustrating traits.
We arrived at my son’s classroom. Per usual Sadie and her younger brother had already made a beeline to the water fountains and were spitting out water.
I of course rushed over and admonished their behavior.
Honestly, I dread this moment everyday. I anxiously await for the bell to ring, the classroom door to swing open and my son to walk inside because trying to keep an eye on 3 kids going in 3 different directions is tough. But when one of them is autistic it’s really tough.
I have to be extra vigilant to watch to make sure Sadie doesn’t run to the playground, pick the flowers from the student gardens or climb onto the tables.
As we waited for the bell to ring, I was collecting worksheets for a project for Teacher Appreciation week. Keeping an eye on the kids I moved through the parents asking for the sheets.
The bell rang and the kids began to line up. I saw my young son but didn’t see Sadie.
I took a deep breath and tried not to panic. I quickly gave my older son a kiss, picked up my younger son and started walking.
I surveyed the school yard and didn’t see her. I quickly walked to the front of the school and still didn’t see her.
My heart sank. I ran into a mom from my son’s class and told her I couldn’t find Sadie, she said “don’t worry we will find her” and off she went.
I ran to the office and asked the secretary to make an announcement. She said, “I’ll page her to go to your son’s classroom.”
Through my tears I told her Sadie was autistic and wouldn’t respond to her name or follow her instructions. She said, “don’t worry I’ll go look for her.”
Several parents had join my search by now and one of the teachers generously took my younger son so I could look too. I thought to go back to the car just to see if she was there.
As I was running, I see Sadie holding the hand of a woman walking back to the school. I collapsed on the sidewalk and sobbed.
Sadie was fine, she had been patiently waiting by the car.
I wish I could tell you that I have never had this feeling of panic before but I have.
When you have a child who runs, doesn’t respond to her name, can’t communicate or has no sense a fear the minute you lose sight of them a sense of panic creeps in.
However, something about this day was different, the fear and panic I felt was indescribable. This day will forever be etched in my heart as the day I lost my daughter.
Written by, Deanna Williams
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