Being Suzanne Mosley: Lesson Learned

Amazon.com Widgets

In the summer of 2007, we took a trip with Melissa and her husband and their three kids. We went to Charleston South Carolina, where Melissa's mother lives. Miss Sharon had graciously allowed us all to take over her gorgeous house for a week. It was a week full of mini-golf, the pool and the beach, Guitar Hero and amazing food. Eric and I drove down with the kids, stopping at the Baltimore Harbor to take the kids to the National Aquarium.

The kids just loved being at the beach, and the Charleston beach was beautiful.

(Melissa's oldest son, Gavin, in the middle)

This was the beach trip that gave us all the scare of our lives. I will retell the story. Mom, scroll down past this part as quickly as you can.

We all went to the beach one day, Eric and I and our kids, and Melissa and Michael and their kids. The beach was fairly crowded that day, but not enough to trigger the panic button. The beach we were on that day didn't have a lifeguard, it was a "swim at your own risk" area. The water was fine, there was just no lifeguard right there.

We chose a location to spread out the myriad assortment of beach equipment that comes with 6 kids. The kids were given instructions to only go into the ocean with an adult. The 3 big kids wanted to spend most of their time in the water, of course, which meant Eric and Michael had to spend most of their time in the water.

Eric and Michael were doing a changing of the guards act for most of the afternoon, taking turns coming back to home base for a break. At one point, Melissa and I, who were sitting on beach chairs with the little kids, saw Gavin and Ava running towards us. I can't remember how this part played out exactly, but somehow the message was communicated that Colson was missing, or that Daddy was looking for him, or something. But it was conveyed casually, in that childlike way where nothing bad ever happens.

Melissa casually said "I'll go check with the guys", and I stayed with the baby and the kids. I watched her walk down towards the water, where Michael was standing. She spoke with him, and then she started walking down the beach. I couldn't see Eric at this point. But I still had no reason to worry, the guys had been playing around with the kids all afternoon, I figured Cole and Eric were together.

Unbeknownst to me, Micheal had told Melissa that Cole had been lost for some time, and she didn't want to come up and tell me yet. I think she thought she should try to find him first, hoping her motherly sixth sense could accomplish what the guys hadn't so far.

After a certain amount of time, Melissa came back and said something like "Don't freak out, but the guys are looking for Cole". She said she would stay with the kids, so I went down to the water. Michael was down there, and he told me that during one of the changing of the guards, a breakdown in communication had occurred, and Colson thought Michael was staying the water with him, and Michael thought Eric was going back into the water to stay with Cole.

So the last anyone had seen Cole, he was in the water. That is when a little tiny sprout of nervousness sprang up in my soul. But I stayed calm, knowing it was probably nothing. Michael told me that Eric had walked up the beach to look around. So I headed off in the direction that Eric had gone, scanning like mad for Colson in the ocean. My assumption was that he was in the water, knowing that was the last place he had been seen.

When I caught up with Eric, who was heading back in my direction, and he didn't have Colson with him, I got really nervous. I could tell he was starting to get very worried as well. When I started asking him questions, I realized that a really long time had passed. That it was getting close to 20 or 30 minutes since they had started looking. That's when that sprout started growing like someone had poured a whole bag of plant food on it.

I realized that Cole drowning wasn't the only scenario. That he could have come out of the water, and been kidnapped. I started running back towards home base. Eric kept walking slowly, scanning the crowds and yelling Cole's name. As I ran, I was having a hard time keeping my heart out of my throat. All I kept thinking was how I'd heard that in a kidnapping situation, time in precious. You have to notify the police ASAP if you want any hope of them finding the kidnapper. And I kept thinking "Oh my god, it's been 30 minutes at least".

On that run I was also preparing myself for what I was going to do if Cole was gone for good. I thought about funeral arrangements, I thought about the phone chain that would have to take place to let everyone know, I thought about what I would tell Zach and Ava, and I thought about what I would do to reassure Michael and Eric that it wasn't their faults. Lastly I thought about what I was going to do to handle Cole's death. I was preparing my brain to handle the news that might be coming. I was praying fast little vomit prayers in between each of these thoughts, because I couldn't stop long enough to pray a real focused prayer. All of this was accomplished in the two minutes it took me to get back up the beach.

I got back to where Michael was standing, and he handed me his cell phone and told me to call 911. I think he suggested it before I walked down the beach to meet Eric, and I said something like let's give it a few more minutes. Now I was ready to make the call.

I called 911, my first time ever doing so, and within 60 to 90 seconds, the lifeguards up and down the beach had been notified. The 911 operator kept me on the phone, and said she was sending an officer my way. She told me to go up onto the boardwalk to meet him at the entrance to our particular beach. As I ran up that way, I remember thinking that if I found the guy who had taken Cole, I would hurt him badly. I wouldn't kill him, but I would find a way to inflict massive amounts of slow excruciating torture on him.

I saw the police officer walking towards me, and I hung up with the 911 operator. The officer was on his walkie-talkie and I heard him say "You've got him?". He saw me and said that they thought my son had been found. We ran back onto the beach, there was a big Baywatch style jeep-dune buggy type thing at our location, and a bunch of lifeguards. All of a sudden we saw Eric walking up carrying Cole. My first instinct was to act as normal as possible and not let Cole see me upset. So I gave him a big hug and a smile and said "We found you!". Turns out he had come out of the water and had gotten disoriented. He had been wandering around in the crowd of beach umbrellas and beach towels that whole time, looking for us.

The authorities made sure everyone was okay, and left. I learned a valuable lesson that day. CALL 911 RIGHT AWAY! That's what they get paid for. They "mobilized their units" so fast I was amazed. My instinct is to not bother people unless I know for sure it's important. But that's what they do. It's their job. And isn't it so much better, in that kind of situation, to be safe than sorry? I will never hesitate to call 911 again.

I don't think I cried much over this then. My mindset in times of extreme stress is to stay calm and clearheaded, and make sure that things go as smoothly as possible and everyone is taken care of.

But I will admit that I got halfway through writing this, and I fell apart. I cried like I haven't in a very long time. That was definitely the scariest, most "real" moment I've had as a parent. I don't want to ever revisit it.

And here's my opportunity to thank Michael and Melissa, for being exactly what you would want people to be in that situation: clearheaded, calm and supportive, and helpful without being aggressive. Perfection.

It wasn't Cole's day to go. I'm very thankful to God for that.