Diving Boards

5/29/2023

My son loves to swim. It’s so natural for him. Not so much for me.  I love playing in water but definitely need to be able to touch the bottom and absolutely need my head out entirely because, well, I like to breathe air.  Summer means we’ll be at a pool, whether it’s the community pool or a pop up pool in the yard. We just need something that holds water to play in. And play we do. Tossing a ball, having swim races, playing blind tag, going down the slide, or hanging in tubes in a lazy river. The carefree, less stressful days of summer are definitely our favorite.

One day, we were playing at a community pool and my son just up and tells me he wants to go off the diving board. He had never done it before and I certainly didn’t dive. He was probably about 12 years old and a strong swimmer, but I said no. Too dangerous. Stay here in the 2 foot lazy river in a nice safe tube with your mama, kiddo. No need to be all risky and whatnot. I always wonder if my fear of water comes from the stories I heard as a kid that my cousin had died in a drowning accident when he was 9. I was either not born yet or was pretty young when it happened because I don’t remember him nor the incident. Even so, I loved going to the pool growing up. My sister and I used to go every summer. We would walk from my grandma’s house with my cousin and spend the entire day at the pool. That scenario just screams of a different era for sure, when kids could freely walk alone and spend an entire day at a public pool without any adult supervision. Times have changed. But my fear of-or immense respect for- water, has not.

My son promised he wouldn’t drown. Seriously. He told me, “I won’t drown, mom, I promise.” What do you do with that? I felt so conflicted as I wrestled with the idea. I didn’t want to hold him back, and I didn’t want him to die. Both were valid and I had to choose. Listen to him or listen to fear?  I asked the lifeguard if they could keep a close eye on him, partly thinking they would tell me they couldn’t and that would be that. Blame it on them. They were less than thrilled, thinking I was allowing him to do something he wasn’t fit to do, but agreed to pay close attention. Dang it. My plan backfired. It was going to happen. He was going off the diving board. It wasn’t him that wasn’t fit to dive, it was me that wasn’t ready to watch him spread his wings. He got in line and waited his turn to fly.

With great anxiety, I watched other people in front of him jumping in, surfacing and swimming off. My mind was racing. What if he didn’t surface? What if something bad happened? You know, good, comforting thoughts in that situation. Then my need to protect him was amplified when a man- an adult man- ahead of my son jumped in and came ever so close the surface but was not coming all the way out like everyone else had. The lifeguard quickly jumped in and pulled him to safety. Needless to say, that little episode dialed up my panic meter. I had to keep telling myself, it’s all good, the lifeguard saved him. If anything happens, my son will get pulled to safety as well. Not sure who they had on standby to help moms who pass out from panic.

Then it was his turn. He walked out. Reached the end of the board. Made one big leap forward. Quickly splashed into the water. Went under. I’m not sure if I breathed while I watched the water, waiting for him to surface- which he did, without any trouble at all.  He had a gigantic smile on his little face as he swam to the side-filled with the thrill of accomplishment-beaming as he exited the pool and running to get in line again. Oh, the mama feelings, complete with tears. Absolute relief. Pride. Happiness for him. He did it! And he knew he could. He knew it was time. I needed not to hold him back, no matter what drama was ticking through my brain.  Then more tears as I wondered if there were other ways I was holding him back. I made a mental note to check in with him about it because jumping off the diving board, no matter how much out of my comfort zone it was, was totally ok for him. Better than ok. He said it was the best day ever.

“Parenting fear lemons” are a real balancing act of letting your kids have experiences, to let them grow and fly, while protecting them and holding them close. But there is joy from the lemons when you see they are ready, or you listen to their voice telling you they are, and you let go. It is then that you have the honor to share in their amazing triumphs, incredibly refreshing pitchers of life’s lemonade.