This past Sunday was the celebration of my nephew’s birthday with a delightful pool party. The weather was perfect, basking in the upper 80s with wispy clouds dancing across a brilliant blue sky.
Little Emma, just 3 years old, was suited up in her floaties—she’s quite the little swimmer, but we always play it safe. Meanwhile, my 7-year-old nephew, Jake, was showcasing his impressive skills, flipping and diving underwater, surfacing only to catch his breath occasionally. He spent most of his time exploring the underwater jets with his goggles on.
As the afternoon unfolded and the non-family guests drifted home, the cousins gathered to chat while our four little ones played joyfully nearby. Emma, however, had decided she was done with the pool and moved to a plastic kitchen set just a short distance away, engrossed in her pretend play.
There were six adults lounging under the screened porch, and I kept a watchful eye on Emma, knowing she was cautious and could swim relatively well. However, a chair obstructed my view, and I became absorbed in a lively conversation, laughter filling the air as we shared stories and enjoyed each other’s company.
Suddenly, my cousin leapt from his seat and sprinted to the edge of the pool. Instantly, I knew something was wrong. My heart raced, a tidal wave of panic surged through me. My hands instinctively covered my mouth as silent prayers for mercy and forgiveness flooded my thoughts. How long had it been since anyone had noticed Emma was no longer by the kitchen, stirring her imaginary concoctions? What prompted my cousin’s frantic movement? A splash? The sight of her tiny form floating on the surface?
I felt an overwhelming wave of shame wash over me for not ensuring she was still wearing her floaties and for not positioning myself in a spot with an unobstructed view of her. I was engrossed in conversation, and in that moment, I feared I was about to become one of those families—one with an empty space where a child should be. Having lost a family member years ago, I understood all too well the pain of that void.
We all empathize with families shattered by loss. We think of them during quiet moments, reflecting on their unimaginable grief and how they continue living despite it. We feel guilty for having moments of frustration with our own children over trivial matters, wishing instead that those families could have their children back, no matter the cost.
Just as I was about to spiral into despair, I noticed Emma’s chubby little hands gripping the edge of the pool, just as we had practiced countless times. Through my tears of relief and self-recrimination, I wrapped my arms around her, praising her for her quick thinking and bravery in “saving herself.”
My cousin had been watching, witnessing the moment her little body slipped over the edge. We had spent the summer teaching her a technique we called “The Princess Who Saves Herself,” which involves falling into the pool, swimming to the nearest wall, and grabbing on before climbing out.
Although we had safety measures in place, the day could have ended in tragedy. I realized that many drownings occur during moments of distraction, when adults are preoccupied and children are left to their own devices. I should have been more vigilant or assigned the responsibility to my husband. I understand these risks—I just needed this harsh reminder.
For more insights on water safety and other parenting tips, check out this informative article on Modern Family Blog. If you’re exploring home insemination options, you can also learn more about artificial insemination kits to support your journey. Additionally, for invaluable information regarding pregnancy and IVF, visit this excellent resource.
Summary
This reflective piece recounts a pool party experience that serves as a stark reminder of the importance of vigilance in water safety. After a near-miss incident with a young child, the author emphasizes the need for constant supervision and proper safety measures to prevent accidents.