When I was a little girl, my mother taught me a simple but powerful trick — a secret “code word” to use whenever I was in trouble but couldn’t say so out loud. It was our silent signal, our way to ask for help without drawing attention.

Years later, as a mother myself, I passed that same lesson down to my daughter, Lily. I imagined she might use it to escape a sleepover she didn’t like or to avoid an awkward situation with friends. I never thought she’d use it for something serious — and certainly not so soon.

Yesterday started like any ordinary day. I was finishing my morning coffee at home when my phone rang. It was my ex-husband, Mark. Though we stayed civil for Lily’s sake, things had been tense since the divorce.

“Hey, Jenna,” he said, sounding unsure. “Lily’s been asking to talk to you. She’s been asking since earlier today.”

That caught me off guard. Lily usually enjoyed her weekends with her dad and rarely called. A knot formed in my stomach. “Sure,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Put her on.”

“Hi, Mom!” Lily said brightly. Her voice was cheerful — too cheerful, too forced.

“Hey, sweetie! How’s the weekend going? Having fun?”

“Yeah! We went to the park yesterday, and today I drew a picture. I drew a dog, a tree, and… I really wish I had a blueberry marker so I could make blueberries.”

Time froze. That was it — the code word.

“Blueberries” was our signal. It meant, “I need help. Please come get me.” I felt my chest tighten, but I stayed calm.

“That sounds lovely, honey. I’ll come pick you up soon, okay? We’ve got that thing tomorrow, remember?”

“Okay,” she said softly.

“You don’t have anything else to tell me, do you?”

“Nope. That’s all.”

“Alright. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

I hung up and grabbed my car keys, my heart racing.

When I arrived at Mark’s place, I knocked. A woman I’d never seen before opened the door, offering a stiff smile.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m here for Lily,” I said firmly. “Is Mark home?”

“He just stepped out for errands,” she said smoothly. “I’m Vanessa — Mark’s girlfriend.”

Vanessa? He never mentioned anyone, let alone someone living with him. Still, I stayed composed.

“Well, Vanessa, Lily has a doctor’s appointment early tomorrow. I forgot to tell Mark. I need to take her now.”

She didn’t look convinced but moved aside. “She’s inside.”

I walked in and saw Lily on the couch with her coloring book. When she looked up and saw me, her eyes lit up. Relief flooded her face.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” I asked gently.

She got up without a word and came to me, clutching her book tightly. Vanessa watched but said nothing as we walked out.

Once in the car, I turned to Lily. “Are you okay, baby?”

She nodded, then began to cry.

“Vanessa’s mean,” she whispered. “She says I’m annoying when Daddy’s not around. She tells me not to talk. She says I should stay in my room.”

My grip on the wheel tightened. I kept my voice calm.

“She said Daddy wouldn’t believe me. She said I’d get in trouble if I said anything.”

I pulled over and held her hand. “You did the right thing, Lily. I’m so proud of you. You won’t have to see her again if you don’t want to. I promise.”

Later that night, after Lily was tucked in with her favorite stuffed elephant, I called Mark.

He picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Jenna. What happened? Vanessa told me you came and took Lily?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “And I’d do it again. Lily used the code word today.”

Silence.

“…Code word?”

“Yes. The word I taught her to say if she ever felt unsafe. She said ‘blueberries,’ Mark. She used it because Vanessa’s been emotionally abusive when you’re not home.”

“That can’t be true…”

“It is. She cried in the car. Told me how Vanessa isolates her and makes her feel small. She’s scared, Mark.”

There was another pause. Then: “I didn’t know. I’ll talk to her. I’ll handle it.”

“Remember, this is about Lily — not us.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll fix this.”

After I hung up, I sat in silence, grateful.

Grateful that Lily had the words to tell me something was wrong. Grateful that I taught her that one little tool.

That night, I made a decision — she’d get her own phone. I had worried before about screen time and internet safety. But now? I realized that having a direct line to me was more important than anything else.

If you’re a parent, guardian, or anyone who loves a child, I can’t recommend this enough: create a code word.

Here’s what you need to know:

Make it unique. Avoid common words that might pop up in regular conversation.

Make it easy to remember. Something quirky, like “jelly giraffe” or “pepper moon.”

Practice using it. Help your child understand when and how to use it — anytime they feel scared, unsafe, or pressured.

It’s a small thing, but it can make a huge difference. It can be the lifeline your child needs.

For us, that word — blueberries — gave Lily a voice.

And I will be forever grateful for that.