…
We went to the pool for a couple of hours on Saturday. It was only our second outing of the season, and it had to be brief. We had limited time before we had to run home for the ‘Oh my god what did I get myself into French party‘.
Brooke was a superstar. She got right into the water and did her patented upright doggy paddle like nobody’s business. With just a minimum of anxious hooting, she stayed relatively calm as she made her way from the stairs to where I stood with outstretched arms about five feet away. She struggled to keep her ears above the water, making for a laborious and awkward stroke, but she did it. With each breath she let out a short stecatto burst of sound – MAH. With each inch closer and each MAH I’d say, ‘I’m right here, babe. You’re doing it. Slow. Calm. Nice and calm. You’re doing great.’ Over and over again, she swam to me.
I moved farther and farther away from the steps. She took breaks and protested the distance, but she made her way to me time after time. Each time she got to me she exclaimed, ‘Mama! you SAVED me,’ as I spun her around in celebration. She was having a ball.
She looked over at the diving board.
Last summer, Brooke decided she wanted to jump off the diving board like her big sister. Like all the kids, she had to pass a deep water test before she was allowed to use the board. She did. She was slow, but she filled the requirements and the lifeguard let her though. For the last few weeks of the season, Brooke was swimming proficiently and jumping off the board like a pro.
On our maiden voyage to the pool last weekend, she tried the same swim test that she had passed last year. She couldn’t do it. About a quarter of the way through she looked utterly terrified and began to sink. I jumped in and grabbed her. ‘Mama you saved me’ lost its usual air of hyperbole.
‘I would jump off the diving board,’ she said again on Saturday. After so much success it seemed like a great time to try it again.
Katie encouraged her. Without any prompting, she jumped in and swam down to the ropes that mark the half-way point so that Brooke could swim to her. I dove in next, as I had promised, to swim alongside her.
‘Mah Mah Mah Mah’, she hooted as she made her way toward the ropes. This was not the little girl who swam like a fish last summer. Couldn’t be. ‘No no no no!’ she began to shout as she started to lose steam. I swam just ahead of her, not three feet away. ‘C’mon baby, you can do it. Let’s get to Katie.’
‘Mah Mah Mah Mah.’ She sputtered, gasping for air. I put out a hand and she clawed her way up my arm. She held on for dear life. I figured we were done and I got ready to jump out of the pool just as Katie yelled from the ropes, ‘C’mon Brooke. I know you can do it!’
Without a word, she pulled away from me and headed toward her sister.
‘I‘
sputter spit cough
‘CAN‘
gasp pull spit
‘DOOOOOOOOO IT !!!!‘
She looked like the little engine that could.
My heart soared. She cranked her arms for all she could and made it to within a foot of the rope. She floundered again and Katie pulled her the rest of the way.
We were only half-way home.
I swam back a couple of feet to get in front of her again and reached out my arms. ‘C’mon, Little Lulu. We have to swim back. Nice and calm and slow. You got this.’
‘I got this,’ she said as she let go of the rope. She made it about two feet. She panicked and reached out for me. She had nothing left. I held her close and told her she was fine. I told her how proud I was of her. I told her we’d try again next time.
We grabbed the wall right under the lifeguard’s chair. ‘Sorry, kiddo,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to be able to swim the whole distance without holding on.’
Katie looked as though she were going to burst into tears. “Mama,” she said, ‘I’m just so sorry for her. She tried so hard.’
Brooke climbed out of the pool and headed for the diving board. ‘I would go off the diving board now. I did the swim test. It’s all done.’
She had no idea.
I tried to explain. I told her we’d try again next time. I told her again how proud I was that she had done her best. As I spoke, she began to understand what had happened. Or at least that she couldn’t yet dive off the board. She cried out sharply. Just once. Then she walked away.
I asked if she wanted to splash around a bit, but she was spent. She passed the rest of the time at the pool sprawled out on the warm concrete deck. ‘I would get warm,’ she said over and over. She was, quite simply, done. People stepped over and around her. I tried everything I could to engage her again. It wasn’t going to happen. Rather than convince her to move, I chose to stand guard and make sure no one tripped over her.
I treated the girls to popsicles and we headed to the car. Brooke licked hers with her eyes closed the entire ride home. She never opened them. Shutting out the overload, closing out the world that wasn’t working the way she wanted it to.
If you’ll excuse me, I think I might give it a try.
Popsicles…good thinking Mah. a soothing transitional object. Do you wonder if she tasted it? I know it doesn’t matter. What matters is You were there, always ready to save her life, always challenging her, yet knowing the limit, encouraging, calming and consistent. The example you live is seen in big sister’s sensitivity and responses. The security of “you” prevented a tantrum. She was rejected by the diving board-but not you. Never by You. Safe enough to “shut down”. Kudos to Brooke! I think she showed remarkable self-restraint…heartbreaking, but remarkable nonetheless. Thank you for sharing jess. Hang in there.
She accomplished far more than seems obvious. It’s like returning to school after summer vacation with everything new and “scary” except she wasn’t scared and she gave it a new , and brave,try. With her big sister there to help she was determined to try. No melt down, no tantrum, no loss of control.
Our little Brooke has traveled miles and miles. You can all be proud, and next time she will “pass the test” and fly off the board. With her courage, and all the love and support that surrounds her, she will fly with the eagles, you will see..and that’s a promise.
Dad
Yes! Hang in there. Every child will often seem to take 2 steps forward and 3 steps backward. Brooke is a trooper. She’s been amazing. She’ll continue to amaze us all.
Brooke swam farther than we know.
((hugs))
Oh sweet baby girl. Bless her heart. Bless her sister’s heart and her mama’s too. She will get it again. Precious little angel. She’ll be jumping off the diving board again before you know it.
LOVE.
You amaze me with your I-think-I-can approach to parenting.
Thanks for that refrshing cry.
Oh my goodness. There’s so much that just melts my heart and fills it with hope and love. And yes, yes, yes, I agree with your Dad. xo
What a gift you have- I felt like I was there. I cried like I was there. What a beautiful family you have. What determination Kendall has and what a compassionate heart her sister has. All a reflection of you.
Hugs!
Um, can I borrow your dad?
I still say you saved her.
It’s the treading water part that I like. Good metaphor. She’ll do it.
It’s damned early in the season.
Always keep popsicle money in your pocket. And yes, closing your eyes sometimes is a damned good idea.
She can doooo it!!
I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that you had to endure the heartache of Brooke’s disappointment, or the fact that when it was over,you had to go home and host a French fondue party. Merde! Sending many hugs your way.
Definitely an A for effort! My goodness, Brooke is one determined girl. That will take her far, that and her supportive, encouraging family. xoxo
what drama said.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
What stars both of your girls are – Brooke for trying her very best and Katie for encouraging her so beautifully.
She’s had a whole year to forget, but the knowledge is still in there. She’ll swim that length and then some in the days and weeks to come, when she’s ready and on her own terms, and it will make the eventual victory all the sweeter for being so hard-earned.
My daughter had her first swimming lesson yesterday. There were only 3 kids, one of whom was her older brother (who’d forgotten everything he’d learned two years earlier and was told he’d have to go back to basics – which didn’t go over very well). She really enjoyed it and seemed to be making progress, but after the class the teacher told me he wasn’t sure she was ready, since she wasn’t all that present with him. Despite the very small class size and a terrific teacher, she had trouble focusing on what to do and keeping the instructions clear (breathe IN in the air, breathe OUT under the water). We were told to practice the basics at home (out of the water or in the tub) and then to see. If there’s no improvement Wednesday she won’t be able to continue, she’ll just get lost once the class gets up to its full size of 7-8 kids. She was so happy to be there “with the big kids”, I can’t bear the thought of having to tell her she can’t stay.
I really wish things didn’t always have to be so much harder for our kids.
I’ll be wishing hard that at the end of the summer this will have faded into memory for both of us and we’ll be talking instead about the way they’ve conquered their hurdles and taken that big leap into the deep end of the pool.
robin ~ hang in there! you know, we actually pulled kendall from her first set of lessons (which were private – yup, just her and the instructor) because we mutually decided it just wasn’t going to work.
last year, we were lucky enough to get her into a small class for kids with asd and it made a big difference. well, at least last year it did