I will always remember waking up one morning to a text from my 22-year-old daughter, sent at 4:00 a.m. It said, “Hi Mom. I know it’s late. I’m at Jake’s place. Love you. Sorry. I’ll be home tomorrow morning. Thank you.”
It struck me as odd that the message came from her Gmail account instead of her cell phone. And what was with the “Thank you”?
I gently shook my husband awake and showed him the text. He mentioned that he had checked the alarm system earlier and saw someone enter our home around 3:20 a.m. and leave around 3:30 a.m.
I called her cell, texted her, and even emailed her Gmail account. Nothing.
I rushed to her room to check for anything unusual. Her phone charger, overnight bag, and toothbrush were all still there—things I expected she would take if she was staying out.
My husband pulled up the Find My Phone app, which we had advised her to keep on at all times. It displayed, “Not Located.”
I tried to set aside my worries and carry on with my day. She had informed me of her plans—going out with a friend after work and staying over. Surely her phone was just dead, and she was sleeping soundly. Everything was fine.
Yet, a gnawing anxiety persisted. I called and texted her repeatedly, checking the Find My Phone app between my daily chores.
A few hours later, her phone pinged—located in North Carolina. We live in Florida. Panic hit me like a tidal wave.
I dashed to my husband’s office, insisting he check the security footage. There was nothing. I urged him to contact the security company to find out why we had no footage. Someone had entered our home at 3:20 a.m. There should definitely be a record. Tell them it’s urgent!
Overcome with fear, I dialed 911. The dispatcher bombarded me with questions. Who was she with last? What did the vehicle look like? Where were they?
But therein lay the problem. I didn’t know the last name of her companion. I had no address or phone number. I had no idea where they had gone for drinks.
My daughter had recently moved back in with us while transitioning schools. She requested we not treat her like a child anymore—she was 22 and wanted some independence. So when she left home after work to meet a friend and assured me she’d be back by 1:00 a.m., I simply said, “Be safe and see you in the morning.”
As I spoke with the dispatcher, I provided whatever scant information I had while fighting back tears.
A few minutes later, an officer called for more details while en route to our home. He asked if anyone else might have knowledge of her whereabouts or the friend she was with.
Her BEST FRIEND! While on the landline with the officer, I quickly called her best friend on my cell. She mentioned that my daughter had also texted her at 4:00 a.m., stating she had lost her phone. They hadn’t spoken since.
Fortunately, she knew the last name of my daughter’s friend, which we relayed to the officer. He was immediately able to identify him and find his contact information.
He assured me he would reach out to that number and update me soon.
Shortly after hanging up, I received a call from an unknown number.
“Mom, it’s me. I’m okay.”
Relief flooded over me, and I began to cry. The officer had tracked them down. She explained that around 1:00 a.m., when her friend stopped to get gas, she got out with him. In the process, her phone slipped from her pocket.
A few miles later, she realized it was missing. They returned to the gas station, but it was gone. She had come home to grab her computer to locate it but didn’t want us to worry about her losing her phone. So, she only told me she wouldn’t be returning home—not that she’d lost her phone.
The friend was trying to help her, but neither of them realized that my husband and I were in a panic over her whereabouts as they were searching for her cell phone.
The takeaway? I explained to my daughter that while I understood she wanted independence, safety comes first.
If it had been my daughter taken to North Carolina instead of her phone, I would have blamed myself forever. Phones can be replaced; daughters cannot.
Going forward, we established a new plan. It’s not about controlling her or treating her like a child; it’s about ensuring her safety and preserving my peace of mind.
Now, whenever she goes out, I have her companion’s full name, phone number, and address, as well as the location they are headed to.
This time, she got it. She understood.
To all parents of young adults, I know you want to give your kids their space, but knowing who they are with when they leave home is not an invasion of their privacy; it’s necessary. You never know when you might need information for a 911 dispatcher, questions I hope you never have to answer.
For more insights on similar experiences, check out this post on home insemination. If you’re looking for more information on pregnancy, visit this resource for excellent guidance.
You can also find valuable stories and advice about parenting at these links: How to Stay Calm When Your Child is in Trouble, Understanding Young Adult Independence, Keeping Communication Open with Teens, Creating a Safe Environment for Your Kids, Navigating the Challenges of Parenting Young Adults.
In summary, the night my daughter went missing was a terrifying experience that reminded me of the importance of communication and safety. Establishing a plan to know her whereabouts is not about control but rather about protecting her well-being and my peace of mind.