Our child was Gone

When my ex-husband and I were still married, we lived in a home that we had childproofed because our daughter, Jacinta was a runner, a trait common in autistic kids. We had security screens on all the windows and custom made gates for the sides of the house to enclose the backyard. I used to wake up in the middle of the night to make sure I had locked the front door.

On this particular day, when Jacinta was about three years old my father, his wife and my youngest brother and sister were visiting. We were in the backyard, the adults sitting around while the kids played on the trampoline and swings. My sister came over to get a drink. Jacinta wasn't with her so I got up to see if she had gone inside the house for some reason. I checked the bathroom and her bedroom. No sign of her. I started to worry so I decided to do a systematic search of the house. Still no sign. I was trying not to panic. I could feel it starting to build in my stomach, but there was still a part of me that was denying this could happen. I called out to my husband and asked if they had seen her outside. She had vanished into thin air.

By this time, I was in tears. I grabbed the phone and dialled 911. My husband was screaming - I'll never forget that sound. It was like a wounded animal. He was shouting in his native African language to my father who couldn't understand a word he was saying. I couldn't breathe properly while I tried to explain to the woman on the phone that my baby was gone. The hopelessness when I told her that Jacinta was completely non verbal and wouldn't respond to her name if called. She kept telling me that she couldn't understand me and that I needed to calm down so she could get some information like what Jacinta was wearing when she disappeared. Hysterically, I sobbed that I couldn't remember. Jesus Christ - what kind of a mother can't remember what her daughter was wearing? The whole time I was on the phone, I was doubled over in pain. My stomach was in knots, my chest hurt and I couldn't breathe. I think about that when I hear stories of missing children. The pain, the absolute consuming grief and agony at the realization that your child might be in danger. A million things went through my mind. Had someone taken her? How? We were right there. I remembered my neighbours pool. Dropping the phone I bolted to the fence and scrambled up to look over it, screaming my neighbours name. The waters were still.

I went back to pick up the phone I had dropped when voice called out from the house behind mine. "Have you lost a little girl?" There are no words to describe what I felt as he told us that his wife had seen a little girl running up their street and followed in her car. Apparently she was scared to stop her and wanted to keep an eye on her while she decided what to do. I told the emergency services woman that the neighbour had seen my daughter and I was going to get her. My father and I jumped in the car and headed around to the street behind ours. The neighbours wife had called her husband - they were at a park almost 2 kilometres away. I arrived at the park to find my terrified daughter surrounded by a circle of strangers.