A key emergency turns into a learning experience

The scariest moment of motherhood (so far) happened to me last Friday. I should preface this by saying in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that bad and for that I'm counting my blessings. But the experience left me shaken and a little wiser — it was an exercise in learning to ask for and graciously receive help.


Our morning routine varies little from day to day. Jim gets ready and leaves for school while I get Evangeline ready to go to the babysitter's. After breakfast, I buckled her into her car seat and turned on the car to warm it up while I scraped the ice off the windows. As I closed the door, I had that horrible realization that something was not right. It's kind of like the feeling at the top of a roller coaster: You know you're going to be hurtled downward at ferocious velocities and there's nothing you can do to stop it. 


You guessed it: The car was locked, running, with my daughter buckled in the back seat. And of course, my purse, cell phone and house keys were sitting on the passenger seat where I'd tossed them. 


There is possibly no worse feeling for a mother than to see her child, yet not be able to reach her. Evangeline, of course, didn't know what was happening, but after a few minutes of watching me tug futilely on the door, she started to fuss. That's when my brain switched from "OK, maybe I can handle this on my own" to "I need help — and I need it NOW."


I briefly considered breaking into the car (disregarding this quickly because I didn't want to injure Evangeline in any way) and breaking into the house to get the spare set of car keys (disregarding this because I figured there HAD to be a better way.)


And there was. I walked across the street and knocked on our neighbors' door. They're a couple a few years older than us and have two young sons. We're friendly with them but with our busy schedules, we don't interact very much. 


My mom talks often about "God things" — life moments that can only be explained by God's grace — and this was one of them. Both our neighbors were home; their oldest son didn't have school that day and so the family was having a relaxing day in. I asked to borrow their phone and left a message at school for Jim. Once they found out what was going on, they immediately offered to drive out to school (eight miles into the country) to get a house key for me. Since they were both home, one parent could stay with the boys, relieving the burden of hauling sleepy children on an errand of mercy. My initial impulse was to refuse politely, but I knew I couldn't depend on Jim hearing the message anytime soon and I had to think of Evangeline. 


Putting aside the mindset of self-sufficiency that's bred into every Nebraskan, I accepted their kind offer and went back to keep Evangeline company. I did everything I could think of to distract her (and myself): Singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider," playing peek-a-boo, making silly faces. 


It seemed like forever, though in reality it was only 20 minutes, before our neighbor pulled up with our house key. Jim had heard the message and had been on his way home when she arrived at school, so the hand-off was very quick. She kept Evangeline company while I ran (and this six-month-pregnant mama does NOT run) into the house to get the extra keys. 


After thanking her profusely, I drove Evangeline to her babysitter's, then pulled into a parking lot to call Jim and update him. That's when I lost it, tears running down my face, pent-up adrenaline pumping through my veins, hands shaking and muscles aching from the effort of trying to pry open a locked car door. Jim listened and reassured me that, no, I wasn't a horrible mother and yes, it was OK and normal to feel this way. He urged me to take the morning off, to take Evangeline home and cuddle for a while, because, as he put it, it's OK to take care of yourself.


I didn't want to do that; all I wanted was to get on with my day and forget that helpless feeling I'd experienced. But I knew I wouldn't be worth a thing at work, what with the shaking and the crying, and really, what I needed was to spend time with my baby. So I called my office and told them I wouldn't be in right away, then circled back to pick up Evangeline, hoping her babysitter didn't think my behavior was too strange. 


We spent the rest of the morning attached at the hip, literally, as that's the only way I can carry her anymore. We watched a little TV and by the time I could watch dog food commercials without bawling, I figured I was back to normal. The rest of the day passed without incident, though I didn't let my spare set of car keys out of my sight.


I know there are far more frightening things in store for me as a mother (ever read the book Queen Bees and Wannabes? Yikes!) but to date, this was the most harrowing experience I've had. But, as my mother's daughter, I can't let it pass without turning it into a teachable moment for myself. Here's what I learned:


• Have support systems in place. I am so thankful my neighbors are good, helpful, reliable people and I know I can count on them in the future. 
• Have a back-up plan. I will definitely keep a spare key in a more accessible location than inside my locked house.
• Don't be afraid to ask for help. This is extremely hard for me to do, but after this, I know it won't kill me to rely on someone else if I need them.
• Don't panic ... at least not while your kid can see. Even though Evangeline didn't really know what was going on, she can sense when I'm stressed. For her sake, I'm glad I held it together (mostly) so she didn't worry.
• Acknowledge your emotions and DEAL WITH THEM. My instinct was to bury what I felt and/or to blame myself for being less than perfect. Well, you know what, self? I'm not perfect and I'm not in control. Those aren't comfortable thoughts for me to process but in order to be a healthy person, they must be processed. For me, that meant cuddling with Evangeline and watching something funny on TV. (Also, chocolate.)


And finally, the most important lesson is:
• Trust God. Things like this remind me that, no matter how confident I feel some days, I'm still not in control. But God is, and He has promised to work for the good of those who love Him. 


I know I'm not the only mother who has had a key emergency. Have you had a similar experience? How did you handle it?