If you ever want to know just how much you love your children, have one of them get lost for one hour and you will realize that your entire world depends on their well-being.

The first time I lost a child was at Caldors in Bedford Hills. I was shopping with my 3-year-old son Robert when I stopped to look at a really nice, cheap sweater and poof he was gone. My brain did a little shudder when I didn't see him by my side and then I calmly started to look for him. He must be very close by, I thought. "Robert," I called, softly at first and then a little louder. "Robert, sweetie, where are you?" Then sternly, "Robert, if you can hear me come to me right now!" Then I must have begun to call his name very loudly because people started to stare at me. A few minutes later I was crying and several people realized that this was not just an insane mother reprimanding a child but a desperate mother who needed help! A tall man abandoned his shopping cart to help me and pulled Robert out from behind a large pole where he had been hiding the whole time, enjoying the game of Make Adults Crazy. I was too relieved to reprimand him and too grateful to be embarrassed. The tall man was my hero. And he was proud to be able to help. Everyone was happy that the boy was not really lost but was just too clever for his own good. "Robert," I said, "please don't ever play that game again."

17 years later, I cry when I write this story. Maybe because the wound is so fresh due to yesterday's lost child. At 16 years old, Julia Rose seemed ready to travel alone on an airplane to join me for the tail end of a business trip. It was the perfect situation. I had a Balance Seeker Town Hall in my home town of Chicago on Thursday. Julia could fly in at night; we'd do a college visit on Friday, and then train it out to LaGrange to visit my dad. Fun and worthwhile!

Trouble began with the prediction of a walloping snowstorm that was supposed to hit at 3:00. The Town Hall attendees and I wondered if Julia would make it in, but the storm blew in slower than expected and planes were getting in all day.

I left to pick her up at the airport in plenty of time, and she called to tell me the plane was delayed by 45 minutes anyway. But when I got there the board said her plane had landed on time at 6:59. Wow, I thought, they really made up time!

I waited at baggage claim for her, as we had planned. And waited and waited and waited. I called her cell and but she didn?t answer. I went upstairs to ticketing and they told me yes she was on the plane and yes the plane landed on time. I spoke to the security guys about where a person might get lost and they had no ideas for me.

Now I panicked. Julia is almost 17, but she is not great with directions, she's very pretty, and she has never traveled alone before. What was I thinking letting her make her way through big bad O'Hare? How could I not have insisted they let me meet her at the gate. What kind of a mother am I?

I called Bob back in New York. She had landed at 6:59 and now it was 7:50. "Call the airport police," he said. I knew he was right, and wondered why I hadn't already done that. I asked for the police and walked up and down the full length of baggage claim while I waited for them to arrive. I decided I'd have to quit my job, CEO or not. Obviously if I wasn't capable of getting a child safely to her destination I did not deserve to lead Working Mother magazine!

A tall, balding Chicago cop showed up and asked me what she was wearing. Oh God, I had no idea. I called Bob. A yellow sweatshirt and jeans was the best he could do. Oh yes, black boots. That ought to help them spot her among the thousands of teens wearing jeans and black boots at the world's busiest airport.

The cop called in the description and started to ask me more questions. I almost didn't answer my blackberry phone until I realized that it could be Julia.

"Hi mom, we just landed," she said, unaware that the Chicago police were planning to track her down. "Don't move from that gate," I said. I'm coming to get you."

I smiled up at the policeman and said, "She just landed! I'm sorry, this was all a mistake." He didn't even look grumpy. "Have a nice time in Chicago," was his response.

I got a special pass to pick up a minor at the gate and when I saw the back of her head as she sat in the chair by Starbucks my heart fluttered with joy. Julia Rose, don't you ever scare me like that again!