Fear, Longing, and Maxcy Gregg

I was late to the swim lessons and pool mom life.  

Thank goodness that South Carolina public schools make sure that every 2nd grader gets swim education, or  this story would never have happened.

In a positive light, the tale I will tell you today happens precisely because I/we were late to swimming. 

Zoe and I have a complicated relationship with water.

During my pregnancy with Zoe, I was told I didn’t have enough amniotic fluid.

I wanted a water birth, but she never turned, sitting like a buddha statue under my heart, sucking that thumb, content as a clam.

I wanted to experience my water breaking, but, alas, emergency C section on a Monday would be how she entered the world. Front doors only for this one.

There are many more stories: the story of almost losing baby Zoe to the ocean; the story of one day, after a dire diagnosis, swimming quite far off the coast of Puerto Rico, thinking sharks might be an easier way to go, then seeing Jesus on the shore in a speedo, which I took as a sign to swim back. The one that still haunts my facebook memories is the story of an unfortunate cousins with shampoo incident leading to Zoe’s fear of soap, and the two year struggle to wash her hair.

Today, though, I want to share a story that could not have made up had I tried.

Today’s story reminded me that the entire universe can rise to support your bravery, and I had a front row seat to watch it unfold for my kid.

Yesterday was July 4th. We had found ourselves at home with few plans.  Neither of us hates a slow morning, but there was a sense of wanting to celebrate the summer together before she left for a week at sleep away camp. I looked around for ideas, and remembered there was a great community pool we could go to: Maxcy Gregg Pool.

Maxcy Gregg Pool is awesome.  It’s salt water based.  It’s Olympic sized.  There’s always plenty of seating.  They cap it at 60 swimmers.  There are plenty of staff, and there’s usually a feeling of spacious floating joyfulness there, with lots of family blending during the day.  There’s music playing, and general merriment.  

It’s also 7 bucks for one adult and a child.   

Zoe was her normal blend of enthusiastic (she now loves pools) and fearful (still not 100% sure of her swimming capabilities).  This lead to the first hour of needing to swim and play with me.  At a sunscreen reapplication pause, I noticed a girl about her age invite her to play.  Zoe is extroverted, and this is exactly what she needed to make a new bestie.  Moms of extroverts know, this moment is a blessing for us, and I watched with glee as they played and explored the pool together.

Zoe and her new bestie would play for the next hour, which, in pool time, is like a school year.  They’d come over to share the snacks I brought, and Jordan, the new bestie, would eat her first cherry, complete with biting into the pit before I could stop her.  

Don’t worry.  No teeth were harmed in the cherry incident.  

The girls  got more and more brave together: swimming over to the deep end, talking to the swimming challenge life guard, walking over to the restrooms and exploring the area near the diving boards.

They were a flock of two: where one was, the other was right beside her.

They figured out that they had to pass a swimming challenge to get into the deep end: swim a length across the pool without touching down or touching the ropes.  For my Zoe, a not so confident swimmer, passing this was like finishing a marathon.  After she did it, completely of her own wanting, she came back to me  jumping up and down with pride and excitement.  Of course, Jordan was next.  Together they had conquered a first! 

A little while later, I noticed the girls standing to the right of the diving boards, looking down into the water.  Both of their bodies held apprehension and curiosity, shoulders and arms close to the torso, shoulders a little closer to their ears, and tension in their legs.  I saw Jordan reach out and touch Zoe’s arm, and Zoe touched her hand.  They were scheming.  

I watched as they negotiated the diving board situation.  Zoe pulled on Jordan’s arm, but she got free, and took a few steps back.  Zoe, fueled by  righteous courage: head down, jaw set, shoulders on push, like a prize fighter, climbed the ladder to the diving board.

Zoe has never jumped off the diving board.

Ever.

She held the railing as she slowly walked out onto the middle part of the board. And then she froze.

She froze for maybe 5 minutes.

It felt like longer.

Her eyes never left the water, though. 

At some point, the group at the pool noticed. I heard someone yell, “YOU GOT THIS” and then, “ZOE. ZOE. ZOE. ZOE.”

It was infectious. One by one, the entire group of 50 people were cheering for my frozen baby on that diving board. 

Finally, she let go of the rails and took 4 tentative steps forward.

Froze again.

Her eyes stayed on the water.

We, still cheering and hollering for her, laughing with great compassion and empathy, connected by this very human thing: fear and longing.

Suddenly, a life guard grabbed her red floater, hopped into the water, and swam to a place right in Zoe’s gaze.

We CHEERED LOUDER.

As this brilliant life guard opened her arms, the cheers grew, and my sweet child, surrounded by strangers, full of hope and longing, let her feet leave the board and then jumped into that deep water.

We erupted into CELEBRATION and JOY, and I ran to her (they didn’t blow the whistle at me as we were all cheering).

As I hugged Zoe, I saw Jordan climb the ladder.

Jordan’s mom came up with her phone, to cheer on her baby. All that fear into purpose, and  SPLOOSH, there Jordan went, into the deep water.

Jordan and Zoe, besties in bravery, first time diving board jumpers, will go on to do great things, maybe even together.

Isn’t that the way, though. 

Purpose, fear management, partner in bravery, a guide to jump to, and cheering section. 

Later, when I told Zoe what was happening on my end of the huge pool, she was shocked. 

She had heard nothing but the life guard.

She told me her version of the story. She got really sick of herself being stuck, and so she said, “You know what, y’all?” and jumped. 

Tomorrow, as she goes off to sleep in cabins without wifi camp, she will have this life altering moment as a guide. They don’t have a pool with life guards.  They do have a lake. A big, deep, fish filled lake.

But, just like at the pool, she will have her own people, fast made summer friends, partners in learning and bravery, and she will, with the support of older camp counselors and a cheering section, find her way to make the big JUMP.