This is the second in a series of posts about water safety. To read the post I wrote right after the accident, click here. To learn more about water safety, check out this post.
You know how sometimes you find yourself in a situation where you’re kind of blindsided, where you see something or you hear something and you don’t know what to say or do in the moment? And then afterwards, you think of all the things you wish you said?
That happens to me a lot. I’m not confrontational. I’m a people pleaser. I don’t want people to be unhappy or uncomfortable and have me be at the root of it all. I once joked that if my life were a Sara Bareilles song, it would be, “Say what you want to say…in an email…and then live in panic while you wait for them to respond and wish that you never said anything…” If I hate my meal at a restaurant, I will probably not say anything. If you hurt my feelings, I probably won’t tell you. I’m a terrible delegator because I don’t want to ask anyone to do a job I would hate to do. I would pretty much make the worst boss ever.
I’ve thought for a long time, a long, long time about writing this. I’ve put it off because it gives me anxiety, because I don’t feel like I’m ready, and then I write a Scoop post about fonts or something. But it keeps kind of resurfacing in my brain, consuming my thoughts, until I do something about it. So I’m doing something about it. And, to be honest, I feel a tiny bit sick to my stomach about it.
You know how everybody has their thing? You’ve got your car seat safety friends and you’ve got your Internet safety friends and you’ve got your bike helmet friends and you’ve got your screentime-is-evil friends, and sometimes you have all of them rolled into one person. Well, guys, I’m your water safety friend.
I shared the story of my son’s near drowning in October of 2012 here. Even though I posted right after the accident, I don’t regret it. Sharing was therapeutic, and the many, many words of kindness, most of which I never responded to, mean the world to me. So if I never thanked you personally, I’m so sorry.
But I was in a very raw place. I couldn’t say things the way I think they need to be said because I couldn’t say those words.
Grief is a funny thing. Even though we didn’t lose him, we came awfully close and I went to a really dark place. I don’t think that made sense to most people, even myself, because he was okay. It was like it happened and then it was over, but it wasn’t really over, you know? I spent a lot of time on the internet googling drowning. What happens. How long does it take. I call it grief porn, because even though I knew it was something that was exploiting my emotions and probably not good for me, I felt drawn to experiencing and re-experiencing all those emotions until I was tapped out.
I became angry, not really at anyone or anything, just intensely, rage-fully angry. It was like that was the only emotion my mind could process, so I did it at full-throttle.
I stopped feeling anything (besides anger) for a good year. In a desperate attempt to feel something, I watched Toy Story 3, which sent me over the edge for a good three weeks when it came out in theaters, and I left shrugging my shoulders.
I became convinced, completely neurotic, that something bad was going to happen, particularly to my youngest. Every time I put him down for a nap or left him with a babysitter, every time we got in the car, I thought that was it. I became totally and completely (and irrationally) paralyzed with fear. I seriously bathed him in a baby bather until he was 9 months old and practically walking out of it.
Finally realizing I needed help, I went to a counselor, who diagnosed me with PTSD. She was very nice and I liked her a lot, but then Clark started having panic attacks (everyone who told me that it would be way harder on me and that he would bounce right back have never met the most intense child on Earth) and I felt like I needed to focus on him. Whether or not that was the right decision, I’m not sure (actually, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the right decision, but I felt like I only had so much time and so many emotional resources), but we focused on getting him through that rough patch.
So now? We’re mostly good. We all have our moments, and sometimes something as simple as a smell or a song can trigger those overwhelming feelings of anxiety. But we’re good. A very wise social worker in the hospital told us that he absolutely had to get back in the water, not just because it’s a crucial life skill but because if we didn’t, it would be this monster that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
So he’s taken several rounds of swimming lessons and it’s become something that he loves. Usually.
So why am I telling you guys all of this? For a couple of reasons. I want people to know that even though he’s okay, it didn’t come without incredible emotional implications like guilt, fear, anxiety, anger, and isolation. I want people to know that things could have very easily gone in another direction, that we were exceptionally blessed/lucky/whatever, and that most people who come that close don’t make it, at least not without devastating side effects. I want to talk about what it was like, what it was really like, and I want to say all those things I wish I would have said, in hopes that we can save another family from an experience like ours.
I think most people have seen the “Drowning Doesn’t Look Like Drowning” article. I shared it when I shared Clark’s story before. If you haven’t read it, you really should. If you have read it, it’s worth looking over again.
But.
What about afterwards? Because just as easily, you could say “a drowning rescue doesn’t look like a drowning rescue.” Sara and I have both said that if more people had seen what it is actually like, they would be infinitely more cautious with their kids around water.
If you guys watch Mad Men, you might remember a scene in the most recent season where Don is at a party and is partaking of late-1960’s-ish substances that he shouldn’t be. In a hallucination, he walks up to the side of the pool and sees himself floating face-down with his arms extended. Then someone jumps in and rescues him and pulls him out of the water and although things clearly are not good, his coloring is Jon Hamm-ish beautiful and they lay him at the side of the pool and smack him a few times and he coughs up some water and then puts on a robe and goes and sits in a chair.
That’s not how it happens.
When my daughter told me that Clark was under the water, I asked her if he was playing or if he was in trouble and she told me she thought he was in trouble. When we turned around, he was on the floor of the pool, face-down, with his arms extended, just like you see in pictures. It still haunts me.
At the side of the pool, Clark was purple, from his nose all the way down through his chest. Once Sara’s husband resuscitated him, he didn’t just expel pool water. There were a lot of hysterical, extreme emotions, not just from us, but from many in the pool area, whether or not they knew us. It was ugly, it was intense and terrifying and messy and nothing like TV or movies.
- Drowning is the #1 killer for kids between 1-4, #2 behind car accidents for kids between 5-9, and #3 behind car accidents and suicide (!) for kids between 10-14.
- Drowning is silent and generally involves very little motion because the body is thrown into survival mode. No yelling or splashing or thrashing.
- Slipping under the water can happen in just a few seconds. The body loses consciousness without oxygen in 1-2 minutes, sometimes sooner depending on how hard the person was exerting themselves.
- Small children can drown in an inch of water.
- Even kids who have been good swimmers in controlled environments (like Clark) can panic when things suddenly don’t go as planned.
When Clark slipped under the water, I was looking up directions on a map on my phone. I got sidetracked by a funny text. Wanna know how long that took me? I timed myself. About a minute. So I timed myself doing other stuff. Going to the bathroom? 3 minutes. Making my bed? 3 minutes. Unloading the dishwasher? 7 minutes. Watching a kid swim across the pool and back? 2 minutes. Reading and answering a simple email? 4 minutes. Talking to my sister on the phone? 12 minutes. Comforting my daughter who got confused about sleepover dates? 5 minutes. Then try holding your breath and you’ll see how desperately quick that time goes by.
I have a dear friend who lost her son to drowning and she compares kids and water to kids and heavy equipment like chainsaws–you would never, ever take your eyes off your kids around stuff like that, and you never can with water.
Last summer, on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram, I saw all sorts of stuff pop up about pools and lakes and water and I wished I’d had the guts at the time to say something, but I didn’t. Not to make anyone feel bad; I truly don’t want anyone to feel bad or like I’m judging them because I’m not; I just want people to think, really think, about how dangerous the water can be (along with being fun and necessary, which is part of why drowning is such a prevalent problem). If our experience can prevent this from happening again even once, I’ll take it.
- I wish I’d said that arm floaties, noodles, air rafts, and anything other than an actual US Coast Guard-approved life jacket are not safe and create a false sense of security. Unless kids are great swimmers and are just using them for fun, these things shouldn’t be used.
- I wish, when people said they sent their younger kids to the pool with their 12-year-old that they would realize that a 12-year-old isn’t physically or emotionally capable of caring for many small children near the water.
- I wish I had said that lifeguards are there to administer emergency assistance and not to babysit.
- I cringe when I see pictures of adorable summer toes and a great summer book and a refreshing summer drink while kids play in the pool without their parents.
- I cringe when people talk about singlehandedly bringing their 5 kids and someone else’s brood to the pool by themselves. You’ve got two eyes that point in the same direction and two arms; until some of those kids are old enough to pass a life-saving course, there are not nearly enough people there.
- I am totally uncomfortable with summer day camps for younger kids that involve swimming as an activity (I’m not talking about swimming camps where kids are learning swimming skills, but just where they go play in the pool. There was a drowning like this in my area a few years back with a teenager who was not a strong swimmer.)
- If I could go back and tell my pre-near-drowning self something, it would be to ask what the heck I was doing holding a three-month-old baby with my feet in the water while my kids swam in the pool. What would I have done if no one else had been there? My sheer presence would not have saved anyone. Where would I have put the baby? What would I have actually done?
- I’m not afraid to say that unless it was a one-on-one swimming lesson, I am not at a point where I am comfortable with any of my kids being in the water without me being right there.
I ask that you decide to comment to keep things nice. I’m not writing this from a mean or judgy place, I’m writing it from the most tender recesses of my heart. Likewise, if you have something mean to say to me about our experience, even though it’s been a year and a half, it will still hurt and I will still probably delete it, not to be an evil censoring overlord or to have you only say nice things to me to make me feel better about myself but just, well, because.
But first and foremost, as we get closer to summer, as you guys start your family vacations and beach trips and lake trips and pool parties, I hope you guys will take this to heart. I hope you’ll stand up and be vocal when you see people being unsafe near water. I hope you’ll take charge and designate someone to watch the pool at a party if it hasn’t been done. I hope you’ll get in the water with your kids, regardless about how you feel about yourself in a bathing suit or how tired you are. If you can’t give 100% for whatever reason, save the pool for another day. I hope you’ll teach your kids these things so when you aren’t there, they’ll know, too.
I love you guys. I really do. I feel like so many of you are my friends, so thank you for all your continued love and support. Here’s to a fun, happy, and safe spring and summer!
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Questions & Reviews
Nossa muito bom
I got chills reading this, because it takes me back to an old, old memory I’d almost put out of my mind.
When I was four, I almost drowned. Except I didn’t know I almost drowned–not really, not until reading these posts. I’m not a parent yet, but after reading what you’ve written, I will for darn sure never be out of reach of my children in water once I am. The next paragraph could be triggering for you, I want to say, so it’s ok by me if you skip it! I want to share it for others, though.
I remember it happened so fast. My mom was in the water talking to another person, and her back was turned, and I had one of those blue kickboard things. I didn’t know how to swim yet, but I was practicing, and the kickboard kept me afloat. I thought it’d be fun to jump into the water holding the kickboard–I liked jumping from the side, and I didn’t think I needed my mom to catch me if I had the kickboard. I yelled “Mommy, look!” and jumped, and the kickboard shot out of my hands when I hit the water. It was only four feet deep, but I was only three and a half feet tall.
She hadn’t turned to look. Just one of those times you’re just a little irritated because your kid has been yelling “Mommy, look!” all day and you’re trying to have an adult conversation for two seconds and–I don’t blame her a bit.
I remember I felt like I was upside down and struggling with all my might. There were bubble everywhere and I couldn’t see. I couldn’t tell which way was up. I remember thinking, “I am going to die.” It felt like I was under the water for a long, long time, and I held my breath the whole time, but I guess it was only a few seconds before someone else pointed at me and my mom turned around and grabbed me and lifted me up out of the water. She was less than five feet away. She told me later I was standing stock-still on the bottom of the pool with my arms straight out on either side of me–which I now understand is textbook instinctive drowning response.
I didn’t understand why she was freaking out, why she started teaching me in earnest how to swim after that day. But I really, really almost drowned. If someone hadn’t noticed me–if everyone had thought I was just playing–if my mom had been distracted for just thirty seconds longer–if I hadn’t taken a big breath and had inhaled water–oh my god.
I was that smart, careful child who could be trusted not to play with fire, not to stick a fork in a socket, not to do anything dangerous. I knew basic first aid even by the age of four. I understood kitchen safety. I always looked both ways before I crossed the street. I did not go anywhere with strangers. My parents taught me all kinds of safety skills and I followed ALL of them. It’s just, no one could have foreseen that they needed to say, “Hey, don’t jump into the water holding a flotation device, because it could slip out of your hands.”
She never took her eyes off me in the pool after that. I still like swimming, and I’m decent at it, but I really don’t like water that’s over my head, or water that’s dark or muddy. I have done my share of swimming in lakes and rivers, and I *can* swim in deep, dark water, but it makes me very anxious and I can’t do it for long. I am far too aware that no one could see me if I went under.
Two years ago I did a dumb thing as an adult that I will never do again: I jumped off a railroad bridge into an unfamiliar river. I thought that swimming in Missouri’s Elk River had prepared me for swimming in Michigan’s Huron, and a dozen other people were jumping, so I didn’t see a problem. Only the Huron is bigger, deeper, and most importantly, *so much faster.* I jumped a little too far out on the bridge and missed the sweet spot where it was still easy to swim back to shore, and I got pulled quite a ways downstream before I could make it out. Even though I was keeping my head above water just fine, I was just on the verge of being too tired when I finally hit shallow water. I am still really freaked out by that. If I’d hit my head on the (big, sharp, terrifying) rocks in the river, if I’d gotten too tired any faster, if my fiancé hadn’t been in the water with me, if I’d jumped even *further* out, if the current had been any stronger…one more thing going wrong and I could have died just because I felt like showing off.
Long story short, I think I’ve finally learned my lesson: water is nice and all, but you can’t let your guard down for yourself or anyone else.
And now I’m going to take some deep breaths because my heart is pounding. Whew.
What a wonderful post. I’m so glad you shared. You talked about so many important things that don’t often get talked about.
I’m like you Kate, I’m a people pleaser. I think the things I wish I had the nerve to say to people and have a hard time delegating and asking for help. I’ve also been there with the grief porn. Almost 14 months ago my then 18 month old son was diagnosed with cancer. I spent hours (probably what would accumulate to days or even weeks) reading and researching (and getting all the knowledge I could because I was too chicken to tell family members to leave me the heck alone and do some research themselves… people pleaser). I haven’t had your experience but I know the heartache and almost confusion after the fact for feeling the heartache when your child is still alive (my little man is now happy, healthy, and in remission). I guess i just wanted to show you support and in the wise words of Taylor Swift… haters gonna hate.
Oh, Hillary! I’m so so glad he’s happy and healthy! Thank you so much for your kind words!
Very good article. I had a bad scare years ago at the beach. My oldest son and I were bodyboarding in the water….which was VERY busy…lots of people. My youngest was playing in the water edge with his friend and that mom watching them. My son and I were floating….then before I knew it, I couldnt touch the bottom. I am not a strong swimmer…especially in the ocean. I was caught in a riptide right in the middle of dozens of people. My son was just a little more than an arms length away when I realized. I couldnt swim out of it, and my son was still floating alone basically. I just prayed he stayed on the board! I wasnt worried about me, I knew a sandbar was coming (saw the people), and lifeguards were not far. But he was only 6 .or 7….. It took me a long time to get over that intense fear, and I still have fear of the ocean. But I can know at least let them in the water again.
My 9 year old son nearly drowned yesterday. I was right next to him. I had just told him to stand by me and take a break to catch his breath and let his muscles rest. I looked away for maybe 10 seconds. When I looked back, he had swam 10 feet away from me, was only about 1.5 feet from the edge of the pool, but his head, with the exception of the very top of it, was underwater and bobbing up and down. As I launched myself towards him, I saw that he was clawing at the water around him, but it wasn’t helping at all. I scooped him up and put him on the edge of the pool while standing behind him, holding him up so he wouldn’t submerge again. He coughed and gagged and threw up tons of water, and then started sobbing. He told me that he thought he really was going to die.
I never heard him swim away from me. I never heard him splash. He never made a single sound. He is alive only because I looked for him soon enough to save him.
I haven’t slept at all since. It’s now 6am and I’ve checked on him about every 15 minutes through the night. I can NOT stop replaying this in my head.
I almost lost my son. I almost lost my son. I almost lost my son.
Thank you, thank you for posting this! You have validated everything I have always felt when it comes to my children and water safety, but I have always felt like others looked at me (one significant other especially), as an overbearing “prude”. My parents raised me not to be afraid of the water, but to be cautious, smart, and aware. I don’t trust the water. And I don’t trust my kids around/in water. We swim in it, we play in it- but I will no longer feel afraid or like I don’t have a voice to do my job as a parent in doing the best I can to keep them safe.
So thankful you posted this. I have the luxury of never experiencing this but only by sheer luck. I have one child, and have always been paranoid about taking other people’s children with me to pools, lakes, etc. (they felt, the more the merrier, but I always felt overwhelmed by the responsibility of my own to monitor others). I am a freak scaredy cat about water b/c of my mom, as my second oldest brother (of 5) almost drowned in the midst of 10 plus adults and kids in a lake. Don’t let anyone keep you from sending this very important message. Everyone is vulnerable even with the most vigilant parents. Thank you for educating those who have not had to learn your difficult lessons. So glad your son is okay. Take care,
Thank you for sharing this. I’m so sorry you have experienced such a terrible thing. I hear you and while not nearly as close as you came, my sister pulled my son out of the pool last July 4th. There were 20 adults standing right there, we just didn’t see him. He just got up from the chair, got in the pool, stepped off the last step and silently went under water. He couldn’t get his head above the water line. Thank God, he is fine and although all of us were traumatized, it was a happy ending. I too and flashbacks and guilt and felt horribly angry. I put him into swimming lessons with his sister the next week. Chastising myself viciously.
Apparently I didn’t learn though. He got into trouble again a month ago, got out of his depth again. This time I was on him in seconds but I feel SO ANGRY with myself again. He is now in private swimming lessons so I know he is getting one-on-one instruction. I have promised myself I will NEVER let him near the pool without my own eyes on him every second.
I just wanted to say, I hear you. Everything you say is absolutely correct. Unfortunately, until you experience this awful, totally preventable thing, you don’t truly get it. Keep spreading the word, keep being emphatic, keep insisting. You are making a difference. A big, supportive, be strong sister hug from me to you. xxxx
Here is the link to the post I wrote about it on my site. Very similar. http://thankgodforwine.com/?s=in+plain+sight
Thank you for sharing this. I’m so sorry you have experienced such a terrible thing. I hear you and while not nearly as close as you came, my sister pulled my son out of the pool last July 4th. There were 20 adults standing right there, we just didn’t see him. He just got up from the chair, got in the pool, stepped off the last step and silently went under water. He couldn’t get his head above the water line. Thank God, he is fine and although all of us were traumatized, it was a happy ending. I too and flashbacks and guilt and felt horribly angry. I put him into swimming lessons with his sister the next week. Chastising myself viciously.
Apparently I didn’t learn though. He got into trouble again a month ago, got out of his depth again. This time I was on him in seconds but I feel SO ANGRY with myself again. He is now in private swimming lessons so I know he is getting one-on-one instruction. I have promised myself I will NEVER let him near the pool without my own eyes on him every second.
I just wanted to say, I hear you. Everything you say is absolutely correct. Unfortunately, until you experience this awful, totally preventable thing, you don’t truly get it. Keep spreading the word, keep being emphatic, keep insisting. You are making a difference. A big, supportive, be strong sister hug from me to you. xxxx
Thank you thank you thank you for this raw and real discription of what a drowning is actually like. I am a pediatric flight nurse at children’s Hospital in Denver, Colorado and I have seen too many near dronwings and children who don’t recover from drowning to mentally handle. I am so happy your son recovered and is healthy and doing ok. I was the first adult of about 12 to notice my 3yr old nephew under water (frantically paddling) and grabbed him out coughing and spluttering – all the while counting my blessings that he was actually coughing and spluttering. He is fine and is in one on one swimming lessons now thankfully. Thank you for sharing such an important message. Continue your good work. Best, Kat.
And this is my wonderful sister who pulled my darling boy out. I am forever in her debt.
Thank you for opening your heart and sharing your personal story which has helped me to be extra safe with my wee ones. I saw this today and thought of you: http://www.delightedmomma.com/2014/05/secondary-drowning-my-recent-experience.html
I had never heard of secondary drowning, although I had a friend whose child had this and survived…now I know what it is.
To be honest I had no idea that drowning doesn’t look like what it does on t.v. Thank you so much for sharing this important information, and such a scary experience! I hope you and your family continue to get better after this experience!
Thank you for speaking up and for the reminders! I have forced myself to read things like this every spring gearing up toward summer so that I will be SUPER careful with my children around water. A few years ago I had my 18-month old unable to pull her mouth and nose out of the water right in front of my eyes – she was on hands and knees – and didn’t realize the seriousness of the situation until the lifeguard splashed over to where I was sitting, right by her, in the shallow, 1-ft-deep water. It’s no joke, and water safety is SO important. Thank you again for being willing to share your experience – it will bless lives!
Thanks for making me rethink leaving my three kids to swim in the community center pool while I go upstairs and work out. My kids can all swim, and there is a life guard . . . but . . . the pool is pretty crowded and stuff happens. Thanks for the reminder.
As someone who lifeguarded for 3 years in high school, and a survivor of a near drowning as a kid, I understand how quickly drowning can happen anf how casual we can become about water safety. I am that mom that if my kids are within touching distance of water at the beach and I cant be right next to thwy you better bet they havr their uncomfortable life jackets on. Uncomfortable often means safe (think seatbelts, carseats, internet filters, child locks etc). Thank you for using your platform to remind us all of what water, that can and should be fun can really mean if we arent diligent.
After reading this, I decided to add a note on swimming at the beach. Please pay attention to warnings about undertows and rip currents! They are extremely dangerous, no matter how strong a swimmer you are. I was a strong swimmer by the time I was about 10, because my mom was determined we would know how to swim well. I was also experienced in swimming at the Jersey shore. Keep in mind, that place is crazy crowded during the summer. I went out to where I was about up to my neck, not new for me, but this day there was a strong undertow, and imperceptibly it pulled me out farther with each wave bounce until I could no longer reach the bottom. At that point I started swimming toward the shore — but I couldn’t make any progress and kept getting pulled outwards. Thankfully, the Spirit must have told me to swim diagonally, in the direction down the beach that it was also pulling me, and I did for a long time. I managed to touch the bottom again when I was almost exhausted, but it was still a struggle to get all the way to shore. I walked at least a half mile back to where my family was sitting on the beach — that’s how far down the beach it took me.
I still love the beach and ocean and vacation there often, but you can bet I pay attention to any swim warnings. If a flag warning say swimming is dangerous, believe it! Even for adults. It will pull you out, no matter how strong you are. Look for “good swimming beaches” and make sure you and your family members don’t go out any farther than you can stand on the bottom at all times, unless you’re absolutely sure there is no undertow or rip current.
(Sorry, I accidentally hit a wrong key.) When I stepped out on deck, no one was in the water and dozens of children were standing around. Then, I saw what they were looking at: my daughter being resuscitated. Apparently, her instructor lost track of her, and a lifeguard on deck saw her face down on the bottom of the pool. Thankfully, my daughter recovered fine, I truly aged several decades in that very brief period of time, and I realized how very quickly tragedy could strike. May you never, never, experience the horror.
As an emergency room nurse, I was appalled when my husband’s job re-located us to a community where irrigation ditches (not fenced) ran throughout the town. I was determined that, as soon as they were old enough, my children would learn to swim. At our city pool the parents were relegated to a Plexiglas enclosed balcony for observation, and weren’t allowed on deck until the lesson was over. Near the end of one lesson, I waved to my 4 year old daughter and headed down the stairs and through the dressing room to meet her on deck.
our family had a very similar incident happen just last august, so this hit close to home. I can relate to so many parts of your story. I know what it’s like to see your lifeless child being pulled from the water. I know what it’s like to not know if they are going to live or die. it’s absolutely horrifying, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. and to be honest — i’m SO nervous for summer. I usually love summer. I love days by the pool. but after last summer i don’t know if i’ll be able to every really “relax” by the pool again! water safety is SO important. my eyes have been opened more than ever before. i’m glad someone with such a reach in the blogging world has been able to remind people of this. thank you!
Can’t thank you enough for this post Kate. I’m up way too late looking at blogs but I feel like this was heaven-sent. We have a pool and live in Phoenix, have already been out swimming this spring. I was so vigilant when we first moved here two years ago but I realize now that I have become too comfortable. As the summer approaches and we will find ourselves in the pool every day (because there is NOTHING else one can do outside when it is 115 degrees!) I need to renew my extreme caution with my 4 young kids around the water. I don’t usually comment but I am doing so now in order to commit myself to becoming a water safety nazi. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you!!
My husband and I are guilty of napping at the beach while our kids play in the water. In the back of my mind I’ve always known this wasn’t a good idea but after reading this post I will never do it again. Thank you for being brave enough to write what we all need to remember. I’m really glad your son survived.
After operating a home daycare for 12 years in Florida and closing it , I decided to teach swimming lessons at my home. I had taught all three of my grand children and my own children to swim, and had a few friends who lost children to drowning. Last year I had 8 children this year starting in mid May I have 28. I was amazed at how quickly the children caught on, but was surprised at some of the comments at the price. Do you really put a price on the safety of your 3 or 4 year old? I have a friend that has a big Easter egg hunt and pool party every year. She hires 2 local high school life guards at $10 a hour to watch the children in the pool for 4 hours. She says its the best $80 she could ever spend. Please encourage your readers to find some swim program to enroll their children in this summer. 🙂 Nadine Ochs Tallahassee, Florida
Thank you. I have felt like such a over protective, fearful mom at the pool but you have given me courage to just keep on doing what I think is best.
I want to send this to my family. We go to a family members pool in the summer and and scared for what I have done in the past. Thanks for bringing to light things that I will change and share.
Thank you for sharing this! I will share it with everyone I know.
We lost my baby niece last year, for still(and probably always) unknown reasons. I absolutely know what you mean by “grief porn.” In addition to meeting other families who have lost children, my sister and I both have developed an obsession with child-related tragedies.
It was so helpful reading your story. I always felt this twinge of relief-mixed resentment when I heard “near miss” stories, stories about families who came close to losing a child but didn’t. I always kind of assumed that they just didn’t get it, and couldn’t possibly comprehend what almost happened. I saw it as something totally different from what happened to us or the other bereaved families we’ve met since.
Reading this, I can see how unfair that attitude is. One thing I’ve learned, or thought I learned after my niece died was not to compare tragedies. Thank you for reminding me once again that that applies always and to everyone Thank you so much for sharing this, and I’m so glad your kiddo is pulling through okay.
Thank you so much for this necessary reminder of how easily we can become complacent when it comes to our kids and water. I live in Houstona and around here, we live at the pool. I do have a question though. How can we be confident that our kids are okay to not be monitored at the pool at all times? Before reading your post I considered both my 8 and 10 year olds to be independent swimmers and would let them swim without me watching them in the “big pool” (with lifeguards on duty) while I monitored my younger kids in the kiddie pool a few feet away. After reading your post, I feel like maybe I am giving my older kids too much credit (and though I’m sure most lifeguards are good, I think we give them too much credit as well). Obviously at some point they reach a level of ability and maturity to be able to swim without being monitored but I find I am now second guessing myself. As a water-safety person, can you recommend some sort of measure or recommendation as to knowing when they have reached that level? Thanks again for sharing your experience which has helped in opening my eyes. We are all in need of gentle reminders and are here to help each other out. Thank you!
You don’t know me, but I am a friend of Amy’s. Because of your words, I will not bring a book or phone to the pool this summer unless I am not with my kids. Thank you.
Hi Kate,
First of all, thank you so much for sharing your story. I don’t have children but it really opened my eyes up to the vigilance that’s required around water, any body of water. Your sentence about how even strong swimmers need to be monitored really hit home. I took swimming lessons as a kid and I was always a strong swimmer, but I clearly remember once when I was in elementary school and had a close call in the pool and thought I was going to drown. I completely panicked and it was terrifying. And again, I was a strong swimmer who had always felt comfortable in pools. As a kid I just chalked it up to being weak (“not strong enough to swim out of it”) and blamed it on myself but your post has made me realize that it’s something that can happen to anyone at any time and that adults must pay close attention to kids.
Reading your post has definitely changed me for the better.
(and as a side note, the part about grief and anger really resonated with me. I had a miscarriage about 9 months ago and I’ve been feeling a lot of what you wrote about. Thanks for making me feel less alone!)