Swimmers of every age are walking around confidently; talking with teammates, placing their neoprene swim caps on their heads and churning the water with their kicking feet. My family slowly makes our way to an opening beside the pool, ready to park our lawn chairs and drop our belongings in a spot for the foreseeable future.
I’m just settling into this new role as ‘swim mom’ and didn’t realize it was such a learning curve. I’m fretting over not bringing my Sharpie to write my daughter’s races on her arm when my gaze flickers to the deep end. Casually marked by the diving platforms is number 15. Meaning the pool is 15 feet deep.
My jaw drops a bit and my eyes widen as I think to myself:
“Oh my gosh! WHAT?! She will be swimming in 15 feet worth of water? Is she really ready for this?”
You see, the pool where she practices is only five feet deep. Granted, the water is still over her head but not so much that she can’t bounce off the bottom to easily pop back up. I flashback to the time three years ago when I faced another moment of water-related trepidation.
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My daughter’s swim lessons are wrapping up for the day and her instructor asks if anyone wants to jump off the diving board. Surprisingly, my four-year-old confidently raises her hand and works with her instructor to kick over to the deep end.
My heart swells with pride as my little girl sloshes out of the pool and hurries over to the diving board. She turns and looks at me with a big smile and a small wave. This is the first time she will go off the diving board by herself, albeit with a lifeguard waiting to catch her after she jumps. I hold my breath as she climbs the steps and slowly walks to the end of the board.
Deep down I know she will be fine and her confidence shows as she waits for her turn. But as her momma, seeing her stand above the deep water I fear for a minute. Is she really ready to jump off a diving board? What if she jumps before the lifeguard is prepared? Is that narrow flotation device she’s aiming towards enough to keep her afloat? I reassure myself that she’s in good hands as I paste a brave smile on my face and hold my breath.
She takes a deep breath and propels her petite 38-inch long body into the water.
My daughter comes sputtering up to the top and paddles over to the edge with minimal help, her face positively gleaming as her eyes search for me. She climbs out of the pool and scampers to the back of the line, ready to jump again. I can tell just by looking at her that her confidence in herself grew tenfold.
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She’s grown ten inches in height and exponentially in her abilities as a swimmer since that summer. No longer does she need a lifeguard to catch her and her knees knocked only slightly when she tried the high dive for the first time last year. She excitedly joined the summer swim team and has willingly jumped in chilly water almost every morning this summer in order to practice.
Here’s the thing though: she’s doing stuff that I don’t even do and it scares me to let her try. I have to work hard to trust- not to let my own fears squelch her ambition. The last thing I want to happen is for either of my kids to be scared to try something they really want to do because I’m personally afraid to do it.
As my kids grow, I’m starting to realize something: with bigger kids comes bigger risks and the more I need to trust. There are probably going to be many things in their lives that will differ from my own choices and I’ve got to be ready for that. I have to trust that they will think these choices through, or at least, know there’s someone trustworthy close by to help if they falter.
I have a feeling my heart will always race faster when she tries something new, especially when I see that she’s literally in over her head. This morning, though, the day of her first away meet, I put my fear of the deep water aside. I gently coach her through which races she’ll be swimming in and smile as my husband tells her to pretend her hands are scooping ice cream. I decide to trust.
Not surprisingly, the depth of the water never came up in our conversation after she swam. She did what she came to do and was proud of herself at the end. I tuck a dry towel around her shoulders and give her a kiss on her blue swim cap. My girl constantly amazes me with her quiet confidence and today serves as a reminder to trust in her abilities.
