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Content Warning: Child loss
June 28, 2019, dawned bright and clear in Southern California. After our usual morning routine, filled with excitement for the weekend, my husband and I dropped off our daughter, Mia, at a popular family-run recreational childcare center in the Los Angeles area. We kissed her goodbye, expressed our love, and watched her happily stroll down the grassy hill to join her friends at campfire.
That was the last moment we saw Mia alive.
Just an hour later, the ambulance arrived at the hospital where Mia had been born six years prior. I can barely describe the horror of seeing her once vibrant blue eyes now dull and unresponsive. Her small body was unrecognizable, bloated and lifeless. The warmth of her skin had turned cold and waxy. The scent of decay filled the air.
My husband later revealed that the sound of my scream would haunt him forever. It was the sound of utter despair—the moment he realized our daughter was gone, and with her, our entire world.
I don’t recall the scream itself, but I vividly remember the chaos of medical professionals desperately trying to revive my little girl. I felt their hands holding me up as my legs buckled beneath me. It was a frantic scene: tubes, needles, defibrillators, endless questions, and very few answers. It was a nightmare without resolution.
Within just thirty minutes of dropping Mia off, she had drowned. My baby had drowned.
As summer faded into winter, I was left grappling with the chilling reality of what had happened. How could this occur? This felt like someone else’s story. But it was mine, and it will forever be a part of me.
Eight months later, the world was plunged into a global health crisis, amplifying our isolation. We were cut off from the very people we needed most during this dark time.
During this period, I had time—an abundance of time—to reflect on my choices as a parent and how they may have contributed to our tragedy. I also observed how others were navigating their own parenting journeys amid the chaos.
After a year of remote learning and limited social interactions, kids were eager to return to the summer camp experience. Parents, too, were more than ready to send their children back to camp.
In America, summer camp is almost a rite of passage, a cultural norm. I grew up on the East Coast and spent summers at the beach, but I never attended camp myself. Moving to Los Angeles, I quickly learned that camp culture is ubiquitous. Most of my friends, whom I consider careful parents, enrolled their kids without a second thought.
Around February during Mia’s kindergarten year, my husband and I began discussing summer childcare options. I suggested a recreational program, believing it would offer Mia the chance to enjoy the outdoors and make new friends. In hindsight, I realize that my decision was based more on what others were doing than on what was best for Mia. That was my first mistake.
My husband had reservations, but we ultimately enrolled Mia in an eight-week summer recreational program. The troubling part is that Mia wasn’t part of that decision at all. It seemed like a no-brainer—running around, swimming, exploring. But that was my second mistake.
I refer to it as a “recreational daycare program” because, ultimately, that’s what camps are—a place where we leave our children for supervision while we go about our lives. It’s perplexing how parents often treat camps differently than traditional childcare providers. Why are we less scrutinizing about safety at camps than we are at schools or daycare centers? Is it because camps feel like an escape rather than an educational environment?
I was lulled into a false sense of security, believing all camps were licensed and held to rigorous standards. I never questioned whether Mia’s camp was licensed or what that meant for safety. That was mistake number three.
We had a pool in our backyard, and while Mia had taken swim lessons, she wasn’t yet water-safe. Before camp began, I informed the assistant director that Mia was not a swimmer. On her first day, I learned she had been labeled a non-swimmer after a pool skills test. The assistant director assured me that certified lifeguards would supervise swim time and help Mia become “water-safe.” My concerns were eased, believing in their training. Little did I know, this was mistake number four.
During the wrongful death lawsuit, we uncovered that the counselors had received mere hours of training, not the comprehensive training required by the American Red Cross. This oversight raised serious questions about their capabilities. If this could happen at a camp with a long history, it could happen anywhere.
I should have demanded to witness their swim procedures; however, the camp’s “no visitor” policy prevented that. I accepted it as a measure to protect the children. Mistake number five.
Recreational facilities often offer last-minute training before the season begins, raising concerns about its effectiveness. At least 30-40 other children witnessed Mia’s tragic drowning. The camp’s failure to account for the exact number of kids in the pool is another alarming red flag.
Despite having four counselors supervising the pool—barely larger than our backyard—none noticed when Mia was in distress. Drowning is often silent and quick. When lifeguards are distracted or inadequately trained, the results can be catastrophic.
Once Mia was finally spotted, chaos erupted. The camp staff was unprepared to provide lifesaving care due to their lack of training in first aid and CPR. They didn’t even have an emergency action plan in place, a critical oversight I never thought to inquire about before enrolling Mia. This was mistake number six.
Emergency action plans are essential for unexpected events, and it’s vital that parents demand transparency. Are we overlooking safety concerns in favor of flashy offerings like aviation or trapeze?
As I reflect on my experience, I also recognize the benefits that summer camps can provide for children’s social and emotional well-being. I understand the allure of camp, and I do believe many operators prioritize safety and proper training. However, it’s crucial for parents to remain vigilant. For further insight into home insemination and fertility, you can read more about it in our blog post here and check out this excellent resource on infertility here.