Before “autism” entered our world, I had never heard the term “elopement” used in conjunction with children.
I used to think kids just “ran away.”
I knew it happened every so often. A child could just get separated from their parents.
But when that child has very little to no communication skills, it’s a little bit “more” than that.
A non-verbal child will not answer when you call them. If you do not have line-of-sight, you might as well be searching in the dark.
If a random person came across a non-verbal child, that child could not tell them what their name was, who their parents were, or their contact info.
It is unnerving just to think about.
There is really nothing more terrifying as a parent than to turn around and find your non-verbal child simply …
…”GONE.”
Jonah is very active.
He doesn’t always understand risks and dangers around him and he is FIERCELY independent.
When he was around 18 months old if Jonah was hungry at night, he wouldn’t cry about it. He would climb out of his crib, slide down the stairs, open the fridge, and start eating string cheese through the packaging if we weren’t quick enough to catch him.
And now at 8 years old, Jojo loves to run.
He has unusually high stamina for someone so young (he hiked more than six miles up and down a mountain as a first grader). It is unfortunately, the perfect recipe for elopement.
Jonah has escaped my vision and care on four separate occasions.
(Two of those occasions, I didn’t even know he was gone. Through fortuitous circumstance, strangers brought him back)
This is the story of our first brush with “elopement.”
It was just a “taste.”
It could have gone very badly, but for the vigilance and awareness of a neighbor.
[August 3, 2017.]
Jonah was 3 years old and completely nonverbal.
————
“My back yard is completely enclosed and is a safe place for Jojo to play, so I generally let him romp around back there.
And he has played by himself in the back yard for hours nearly every day.
But there is a cracked plank in the side gate I’d been putting off fixing. The gate opens to the unenclosed front yard.
I didn’t think it was something Jonah would notice, or if he did, that he would see as a means of “escape.”
It just didn’t occur to me that he would even want to “get out.” He loves the back yard.
But he also loves pushing his boundaries.
Apparently, Jojo had found that board and had exploited it.
He was able to kick the board out and open the bottom of the gate even though it was still latched. Jojo had worked his way through the opening. It probably took less than a minute.
I didn’t even notice.
I had assumed Jonah would be safe in the back yard, so I wasn’t as vigilant in watching him.
Even when my doorbell rang, I assumed Jonah was still back there.
When I answered the door, my neighbor barely had the chance to greet me before I blew right past her at a dead sprint.
Jonah was in the unenclosed front yard, just feet from the street, and could have unknowingly ran out of my view into danger at any time.
My heart leaped into my throat. I didn’t actually hear what my neighbor said as I ran past her, my vision narrowing, hyper-focusing on one little point.
A little boy, nonchalantly playing right next to the road, just inches from a sidewalk that would lead to literally “anywhere” in the world… in nondescript clothing I would not have even remembered, for which I would not have been able to provide to another party, should the (previously) “unthinkable” need arise.
I picked Jonah up in my arms, nearly in tears. He had no idea how dangerous a situation he was in. He had no road sense and would not stay on the sidewalk. He would not look for cars before crossing the street, and actually crossing the whole way would be merely “optional” to him.
As I carried him back in the house, the little bugger was laughing.
LAUGHING!
He had pushed through a boundary, and to him, that was a “victory.”
I am ashamed to admit, I don’t know how long Jonah was out there by himself.
He could have gone anywhere without my knowledge.
Just earlier that day, we walked a mile to a local park together.
Thank God for neighbors who “get it.”
My next-door neighbor’s adult son is also on the autism spectrum and she was the one who noticed.
Even though Jonah’s favorite activity is simply “running,” he didn’t run this time. And my neighbor was aware of the inherent danger and made sure he didn’t go anywhere.
She came and got me right away.
I’m so thankful she was there and that she was so observant.
As Ausome parents, we can NEVER let our guards down.
Because that was just a “taste” of “elopement.” I didn’t actually have time to worry.
The panic didn’t even set in until after Jonah was already found.
I thought that would be the catalyst to make me redouble my hyper-vigilant efforts.
But as with most things on this journey, you are never really fully prepared.
Because, we won’t always be at home.
Neighbors won’t always be there.
And sometimes, as I was soon to find out, despite our best efforts…
…the child still gets away.
#autism #elopement