Growing up in the Baptist Church, Easter has always been a
time of reflection for me. It’s a time
when we remind ourselves of the horrors of the crucifixion of Christ and the
fully restorative resurrection and forgiveness of our sins. This Easter felt different, since we have a three
year old, the Easter Bunny talk was big, and the weekend was filled with
festivities.
Friday I spent trying to do the Easter Bunny shopping at Target
with my kids. Why would I put myself
through that? Because sometimes I am a
poor planner, which left me with two kids in tow. I knew it would be rough when the whiniest “I
want candy” started before we ever hit the candy isle. I do have to say that I was impressed with my
toddler distraction skills, and was able to fill the cart with Isaac’s Easter
goodies (while he ate candy that I had not yet paid for). Desperate times call for desperate
measures. We spent the rest of the day
playing outside until we were yellow from the pollen (poison as Isaac calls
it). It was a good day.
We had a wedding to attend Saturday night so the kids were
staying with the gparents and we needed the Easter Bunny to visit a little
early. So, Saturday morning we had so
much fun opening our Easter baskets.
After, we headed to our church to check out their Easter Egg Hunt. They had dumped 1,000 Easter Eggs in the
middle of the gym floor for the toddlers to “hunt” and we could barely hold our
two back from charging the front line.
But, of course, when Isaac did reach the Easter eggs, he refused to pick
any up that weren’t the color red….well, needless to say, he ended up with a
few eggs that I put in his basket. That’s
my threenager. After the kids got all
sugared up, we went home and played until their grandma came to get them.
Don and I had a great, dancing all night, type of time at
the wedding on Saturday. We were kind of
dragging on Sunday morning, but missed the kiddos. I called to check on them. Isaac was on meltdown number two. The first was that he didn’t want to wear the
ADORABLE shirt and bow tie I got him and the next was because he had stubbed
his toe. Mom said she thought he was a
little homesick. Well, that was a first
for us. Normally, he is depressed to
leave his grandparents house, so it felt a little nice to be wanted a little.
I spent the Easter church service thinking about all I had
to be thankful for and for the awesome weekend we had. The kids had made Easter such a fun
experience and I was grateful for that.
I couldn’t help but think about how just a few short years ago, we didn’t
know that we would be able to have these miracle babies, and yet, here they were,
and my how my life had changed. We were
exhausted and happy – you know the kind of exhausted and happy that tells you
that your life is good.
We went to the early morning service, so we go to Sunday school
after. We love our Sunday school
class. It isn’t your typical run of the
mill class. My Dad actually teaches it,
and it’s like a small church of its own.
We average about 100 people, of all different ages. At some point in any of our lives, we have
laughed and cried together. We share stories,
laugh with Dad, and learn from each other.
That class has prayed me through so much – when I was diagnosed with RA,
when I totaled my car, my divorce. I will
NEVER forget that the timing had just worked out with our first Embryo transfer
(when we became pregnant with Isaac) that the Sunday school class was literally
praying for us the moment it happened.
Members of our class even drove to Portageville, Missouri to be there
for my Dad when my Grandpa passed away.
It’s just that type of class. It
was a typical morning of laughter until we started to share our prayer
requests. A man stood up front and told
us about the events that happened just the night before.
A lady in our class was coming up on the 10th anniversary
of losing her husband to a motorcycle accident.
When he died, he left her with four small boys. As anyone would, she has had a tough time and
our class has always tried to be there for her.
This Sunday’s prayer request came from a text she had sent out the night
before. Her nephew of three years old
had snuck underneath a fence while playing outside and fell into her pool. They tried to resuscitate him for two hours
before they said he was gone. As I heard
the words, it took my heart a moment to process. A three year old little boy was gone. Just like that, in the blink of an eye. A three year old just like my Isaac. I couldn’t picture the boy at once, but
seeing a picture later I recognized the sweet boy Don and I had kept in the
nursery before. There in Sunday school
as I listened, I just couldn’t receive it all.
I started to sob. I wasn’t the
only one. I couldn’t imagine the
pain. The pain for the mother, the pain
of the father, the pain of his Aunt. It
could have been Isaac; it could have been any of our children. She had already been through so much. My heart was broken for her, and instantly my
Easter was transformed from a light hearted fun weekend with the kids, to a gut
wrenching – how could I ever take anything with my children for granted again-
type of day; The type of day where you hold your kids a lot longer than they
would like. It was a strange feeling
next to the juxtaposition of the miracle of the resurrection. They had hoped for their own Easter miracle,
but God had other plans that we just don’t understand.
I kept thinking about Isaac.
We have a small pool in our backyard.
We don’t have a fence, so we drained the water out of it when Isaac
started to walk on his own. One of my
worst fears was one of my children drowning.
I am not sure why that stuck out to me as worry any larger than the
million other things you need to worry about for the sake of your children, but
I would have reoccurring nightmares of seeing Isaac fall into cloudy water and
seeing him disappear from my sight before I could jump in after him. I get sick to my stomach just thinking of it.
Because of my ever growing fear, last summer, I enrolled the
kids in an Infant Swim Self-Rescue class.
I had never known anyone who had a drowning affect their own life, but
the fear was so great I had to do something.
The classes were expensive, and they were going to be 6 weeks, everyday
weekday. I knew I couldn’t take them so
I called my Dad a month before the sign up deadline and asked him to think
about it. I knew it was asking too much
of him. A six week commitment to take a
two year old and a six month old to swim classes every morning for six weeks is
a lot for anyone, especially someone who never changed a poopy diaper in his
entire tenure as a father.
But my Dad, being as awesome as he is, and I’m sure hearing
the desperation in my voice, said that he would do it. I cannot thank him enough. Eliza pooped in her diaper before swim class
every day for 6 weeks, and sometimes while she was in the pool and the
instructor would hand her back to Dad to change again. The first day, I called when I knew they
should be on the way back to school and could hear Isaac whining and Eliza
screaming. Dad had to pull over, run the
bottle into a gas station to microwave it (since Miss Sassy Pants won’t drink
it cold), and stand in the parking lot holding it for her as she drank the
entire thing. There is another reason
why I am so glad that Dad did it. I’m
not sure I could have. I remember seeing
the videos of how these swim classes go.
She was going to let my babies go in the water. There in front of me, and now in front of
Dad, my worst fear was going to take place in front of my eyes. Of course, every precaution is taken, and the
instructor was a total pro, but it still doesn’t take away that instinct that
you have to immediately jump in the pool, clothes and all, when you see your
child going under. I asked Dad to record
their lessons since I couldn’t be there.
Isaac and Eliza both cried the entire time, and I did too. They cried most of the time, because they
were learning something hard and new.
Several times I thought of stopping the lessons because I was afraid it
could hurt them emotionally. The
instructor explained that they had done several psychological studies on the
process, all showing that even though the babies seemed in distress and afraid,
they were crying as an expression of having to learn something unfamiliar. That, and my reoccurring nightmares, kept
them going. I took them on Fridays when
I could get off of work, and it was really hard to watch. But as time went by, Isaac, whose first
instinct was to suck water into his mouth as soon as he went under, could now
float on his back and swim under the water.
I was amazed to see that a baby as small as Eliza could now float on her
back. I knew their graduation was
approaching because they were getting better.
Their graduation required them to be decked out in their thickest
wintery clothes – shoes and all, and to then be thrown into the pool to assess
if they would be able to survive.
Of course, the instructor knew they were ready. She had done this a million times and had
grown to know each little intricate part of Isaac and Eliza’s strengths and
weaknesses. But again, seeing my babies,
my heart, my everything, being heaved into a pool with all of their clothes on
was a feeling you can’t be prepared for as a mother. I held my breath the entire time. Isaac jumped into the deep end on his
own. It looked as if he was sinking to
the bottom when he started to kick up to the top. I was on the edge of the pool, literally
about to jump in, blue from holding my own breath, when he jerked his head back
and floated like he was taught to do.
Thank you God. With Eliza, the
feeling was the same except a little worse.
It just doesn’t seem natural that a small baby like that could float,
especially with all of that extra weight.
I could barely lift Isaac out of the pool with the weight of all of his
water soaked clothes.
My Ellie bug, being a water baby herself was smiling and
looking around when the instructor flipped her in the air into the water. To know that they could survive was the
point. The stun and shock of falling
into the water was a real thing to deal with.
Eliza kicked her way to the top just like her big brother and rolled
over onto her back to breath until someone came to her rescue.
The first thing I did the Monday after Easter was sign them
up for a refresher course for the summer.
As hard as it was to go through it with them, I needed to know that they
could survive. Will it mean that I never
have to deal with the pain this poor sweet family at church has to deal with? It doesn’t guarantee that. Like I said, it could have been anyone, and
here lately I am even more convinced that those types of accidents are
sometimes very hard to prevent. It is
impossible to foresee any and everything out there that can hurt our children,
and it’s enough to make any parent crazy with fear. Just yesterday, I got Isaac out of the car at
home and went around the other side to get Eliza out. While in the midst of doing so, I heard Isaac
screaming from the back of the car. He
had decided to grab the exhaust pipe of my car.
Just like that. I couldn’t have
seen it coming. Just the day before, he
decided to lick the side of Don’s truck.
I mean we just never know. But I
do know this. I have seen my children
faced with the same situation and know what to do. I can only pray that if the situation ever
occurs they will react in the same way.
Also on that Monday morning I wrote an email to my kids swim instructor
Candice. I told her what happened that
weekend and that I could never be grateful enough for what she had taught my
children. That there was no measure of
how many children’s lives were saved or changed by what she was doing. If only I could shout it from the
rooftops. I know it’s a big commitment
and I know it’s expensive and that it isn’t possible for every family. I also know that for me, the nightmares have
lessened and I have hope that my kids could survive where there would have been
no hope before. To me that’s big.
So please everybody, squeeze your little ones a little
longer tonight, and embarrass them by telling them how much they mean to you,
and thank God that you have them if you do.
Also, please say a prayer for those who don’t.
For more information on the Infant Swim Self- Rescue, you
can go to the ISR Self Rescue Survival Swim website.
