The Days They Almost Died (Part 3)

Friday, July 25 this year was pretty laid back. My children and I were scheduled for a playdate with a friend I’d made back in my caregiving days, prior to children and even marriage. Being that we live on  opposite sides of town, we were going to meet up somewhere halfway, at an aquatic center. Nothing crazy, no big deal.

Upon our arrival, what looked like a little community center from the outside actually ended up being pretty massive to a mother rolling solo with her three children, none of whom know how to swim.

We paid and entered what seemed, to me, more of a water park than community pool or aquatic center. I had not come dressed to do anything other than gab a bit with my friend and yell occasionally, “Don’t go that far: you can’t swim, and neither can I. Let’s  be smart.” However, they saw their friends and immediately forgot that the four weeks of swimming lessons they’d taken two years ago was just to get them comfortable in water. For some reason, my daughter and oldest son were really feeling like Michael Phelps. They followed their friends to the deep end, at which point, I had to remind them how unprepared any of us was to save the other. That seemed to bring them back to reality, so they returned to the more shallow side.

About forty minutes in, all three children were feeling adventurous and decided they would like to attempt the “big kid” waterslide, which was a little under four feet deep. I decided it couldn’t hurt to walk them over, figuring one or all three would chicken out once we got up to the top.

I was right…my younger son freaked at the height as he looked down. He was no longer interested in proving himself to be a big kid who could do anything. He wanted to go back down immediately and was panicking. He pulled my hand and said he wanted to go back down at that very moment. I told the other two that we all needed to get back down, but the other two did not budge. They were set on going down that big kid slide.

I tried to get the attention of the lifeguard at the top, telling her my older son was fine to go down, but I would be back, as was skeptical of my daughter going down. She was trying to listen, but other children were vying for her attention as well, so I got a nod and raced back down with my son, who had already started making his way down without me.

As we reached the bottom, I noticed my older son, who I could have sworn had at least three or four children in front of him was coming down the slide. I ran along the side, to take a picture for my husband, as proof that he had conquered his fear of heights and water. Unfortunately, I missed the shot, so I walked quickly along the side, to get him, so we could all go back up to get their sister, which I knew would take some coaxing of my younger son.

As I looked up quickly though, I noticed I could no longer see my daughter. I figured she had gotten cold feet and was heading down, so we began heading back to the staircase. For some reason, I looked up again, and this time, I saw her, but she seemed to be going down the slide. I did a double take, because there was no way the lifeguard would let her go down. Just to make sure though, we stood at the side, to make sure. I spoke to the lifeguard on the side closest to me, informing him that the child coming down could potentially be my daughter, although I had my doubts. I told him if that were the case, she does not know how to swim, and I asked if I could somehow cross the lazy river to the other side, in order to get her, to which he replied, “No, ma’am; sorry, you can’t do that.” As I stood there trying to reason with him, I saw my daughter splash out of the mouth of the slide flailing her arms. I screamed, “That’s her! That’s my daughter! Get her; she doesn’t know how to swim!!! GET HER!!!”

As I saw her go down for the second time, it took all that was in me not to say, “Screw it!” and jump into the lazy river. The only problem is that I knew that would freak my sons out and put them in danger as well. My heart was in my throat as I heard the piercing sound of whistles and lifeguards ushering everyone out of all the pools, screaming, “Drowning in progress!” I watched as four or five teenage lifeguards leapt into the pool to get my daughter who seemed to be gasping for air.

I watched them carry her to an office, as I walked quickly behind the lifeguard who had her. As we made our way to the office, I saw children pointing and heard, “Is she the reason we all had to get out of the pool?” “Was she drowning, Mommy?” “Can we swim now?”

In shame, I entered the room, where I was given a well-deserved lecture on pool safety and the importance of watching my children around water. I had to sign paperwork stating I’d been spoken to, and it was then I found out that my daughter had been asked to wait and let someone else go before her, I guess to buy me time to get back up to her. However, being who she is, as the lifeguard leaned down to address another child, my daughter pushed past her and went down the slide. Knowing her like the back of my hand, I knew that very well could be true, as she probably wanted to follow her big brother.

As we walked out of the office, still very embarrassed, I scolded her for not being safe and told her how important it was for her to be a better listener. Her response? “Mommy, did you see me? I was swimming! I was doggy paddling. Did you see me? I want to do that again!”

(Of course, as usual, this episode freaked me out further, due to the following news story that had affected a friend's friend's family member a few weeks earlier: http://www.azfamily.com/news/local/Boy-drowns-during-Fourth-of-July-pool-party-in-Phoenix-124991014.html.)