Mom Guilt & Eloping: Life Without Words

 

There are moments as a parent that stay with you forever - moments you replay in your mind a thousand times, wishing you could rewrite them. For me, one of those moments was the day Wyatt eloped from our house while I was in the shower.

Even now, my heart races when I think about it. The fear. The panic. The overwhelming guilt.

It seemed like any ordinary day. I thought Wyatt was safe. The doors were locked—at least, I thought they were. I jumped in the shower, just for a few minutes. When I came out, he was gone.

My world stopped.

Thankfully, he was found safe. But that moment changed me forever.

Even though Wyatt was okay, the guilt hasn’t fully gone away. As moms, we put impossible expectations on ourselves—to be everywhere, to anticipate everything, to prevent every possible danger. When something slips through, even for a second, the guilt is crushing.

To this day, I still get anxiety when I take a shower. I check the locks over and over. I listen for every sound. That fear never fully leaves you.

For parents of autistic children, elopement (wandering or running away) is a very real and very scary issue. Many autistic kids, like Wyatt, have no sense of danger. They may unlock doors, open windows, or slip away in an instant. They’re curious, adventurous, and quick—faster than your fear can catch up.

Elopement isn’t about “bad parenting.” It can happen to anyone, no matter how careful you are. But there are steps we can take to make our homes safer.

If you’re reading this and you’re raising a child who is prone to eloping, please—add extra layers of safety.

• Install extra locks high up on doors, out of reach.
• Use door alarms that chime when a door opens.
• Consider window locks and security measures, especially on the first floor.
• Keep a safety plan in place, and let neighbors know if elopement is a risk.

These precautions aren’t overreacting. They’re necessary. They could save your child’s life.

That day still haunts me, but it also made me more vigilant. I’ve learned to turn my guilt into action—to do everything I can to keep Wyatt safe while still letting him explore the world in his own way.

To every mom out there who has experienced something similar, please know this: you are not alone. Mom guilt is heavy, but it doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you care. It means you love your child so deeply that you’d do anything to protect them.

Hug your babies tight. Double-check those locks. And give yourself some grace—you’re doing the best you can!

Kerri