When I was a child, my mother taught me a life-saving trick — to use a secret “code word” in case I was ever in trouble and couldn’t say so directly. It was our silent alarm, a way to signal danger without alerting those around us. Years later, as a mother myself, I passed that lesson on to my daughter, Lily. I imagined she might use it to escape a bad sleepover or get out of an uncomfortable situation. I never expected she’d need it for something real — and certainly not so soon.
Yesterday started like any normal day. I was home sipping coffee when my phone rang. It was my ex-husband, Mark. We kept things civil for Lily’s sake, but the relationship had been strained since the divorce.
“Hey, Jenna,” he said, his voice unusually unsure. “Lily’s been asking to talk to you.”
That caught me off guard. Lily always enjoyed her weekends with Mark. She rarely called.
He passed her the phone, and Lily’s cheerful voice came through. “Hi, Mom!”
I smiled but felt something was off — her tone was too bright, too forced. “Hey, sweetheart. Are you having fun?”
“Yeah! We went to the park yesterday, and I drew a picture this morning. It had a dog, a tree, and I really wish I had a blueberry marker so I could make blueberries.”
The world froze.
That was our code word — “blueberries.” It meant one thing: I need help. Come get me.
I stayed calm. “That sounds like a great picture, honey. I’ll come pick you up, okay? We have that thing to get ready for tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
“You sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?”
“Nope. That’s all. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hung up, heart racing, grabbed my keys, and drove straight to Mark’s place.
When I knocked, a woman I’d never seen before answered the door. She had a tense smile and introduced herself as Vanessa — Mark’s girlfriend. This was news to me. Mark had never mentioned her, let alone that she was living there.
“I just remembered Lily has an early doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” I said smoothly. “I need to take her back home.”
She looked skeptical but moved aside. “She’s inside.”
I found Lily on the couch, clutching her coloring book. When she saw me, her face lit up — not with joy, but with relief.
“Ready to go, sweetheart?” I asked.
She nodded quickly and followed me to the car without a word.
Once we were alone, I asked gently, “Are you okay?”
That’s when the tears came.
“She’s mean,” Lily whispered. “When Daddy’s not around, she tells me to stay in my room and not talk. She says I’m annoying. She said if I told Daddy, he wouldn’t believe me. She scares me.”
I pulled the car over, turned to her, and took her hand. “You did the right thing. I’m so proud of you. You never have to see her again if you don’t want to. I promise.”
That night, after Lily was safe in bed, I called Mark.
“Hey, Jenna. What happened? Vanessa said you just showed up and took Lily.”
“She used our code word,” I said.
There was a long pause. “Code word?”
“The one I taught her in case she ever felt unsafe. She said ‘blueberries.’ That’s how I knew something was wrong.”
He went silent again. “That can’t be right.”
“It is. She told me Vanessa belittles her and isolates her when you’re not around. She was crying, Mark. This isn’t okay.”
He exhaled, stunned. “I didn’t know. I swear I’ll handle it. I’ll talk to her.”
“This isn’t about you or Vanessa,” I said. “This is about Lily. Keep that in mind.”
“You’re right. I’ll fix it.”
After the call, I sat in the quiet, shaken but grateful. Grateful that Lily remembered the code word. Grateful she trusted me enough to use it.
That moment made something clear — she needed more than just a code word. She needed her own phone. I’d hesitated in the past, worried about screens and digital risks. But now I saw it differently. Having a direct line to me could make all the difference.
To every parent, guardian, or loved one of a child: teach them a code word. It’s a simple tool that can offer protection in ways you may never anticipate.
Here’s how to make it work:
- Make it unique – Choose something that won’t come up in everyday conversation. Something like “blueberries,” “paper rocket,” or “spotted zebra.”
- Make it memorable – Pick a word that’s easy for a child to remember, even when they’re scared.
- Practice – Use role-playing so your child knows how and when to use it. Make sure they understand it’s only for moments when they feel unsafe or scared.
One word — just one — gave my daughter a way to speak when she couldn’t find the words. It empowered her. It saved her.
And it might do the same for yours.