Once, my son Tyler went missing. He was barely two years old, and we were in a mall. It didn't happen on my watch, but it could have. When we discovered that he wasn't where he was supposed to be, I can't even describe how scared I was.

We looked all around the music store, up and down the aisles, under the racks of CDs, anywhere a toddler might hide. No.

We looked up and down the hallway of the mall, hoping to see a glimpse of him, still in diapers, waddling along.  No.

Someone had to stay with my two older children and my infant daughter, still asleep in the stroller, so although I wanted to run through the mall screaming my child’s name, I stood there and tried not to lose it while my husband went to get help from a security guard.

My story has a happy ending.  Minutes later (really-- only minutes?) the security guard got a response from his S.O.S.  Tyler had been found at the department store at the end of the (albeit small) mall, by a sales person in the perfume counter.  We raced down and I saw him, picked him up and hugged him as if I’d never let him go.  

Eleven years later, that story has become one of the family folklore, part of “do you remember the time…” and “tell me again about when…”

I recall that story this morning because of another missing child, but one without a happy ending.  Police in Georgia believe they have identified the body of a missing Florida child, Somer Thompson.  She was seven years old.

Maybe it was just me, but before I became a mom, I would have been sad to hear this news, and angry that someone could do this to a child.  But once I had children, it became personal.  When Somer was first missing, even though I was busy with my own kids and didn’t even hear the whole story, I went to state of alertness.  It wasn’t even for my own children’s sake: it was for Somer’s.  I was mentally holding my breath, hoping (but doubting) we’d hear good news soon.

With today’s news, there’s a penetrating sadness that even this 78-degree day cannot erase.  

It’s as if a Mom Switch got installed in me when I delivered my first child.  But it’s not just for my child—it’s for any child.  When I talk to my friends, it’s clear that they got the Mom Switch too.

Maybe that’s what makes moms special—that ability to instantly connect with almost any child anywhere.  To care for other children as if you would your own.  To relate to other experiences because you’ve had similar ones.  To grieve for another family because you know just how precious a child is.  And to be angry because Somer and her family didn’t get the happy ending we did.

Pamela appears Tuesdays on TriangleMom2Mom. Read more about Pamela on her blog Crazy is My Life.