i hope that never happens again.

If it was possible to upload mental images to computers, I know just what picture would accompany this post.  Then, if I could somehow let you feel what I felt in the moment that mental snapshot was taken, I would certainly add it, too.

(It probably would have made a nice Wordless Wednesday post, seeing as how I've not been able to keep up with the simple act of uploading a few pictures once a week...)

Some friends of ours invited us to go swimming yesterday, and Ethan and I happily accepted their offer.  He's learning to love the water a little more each time, and I don't really pass on the chance to sit in the sun! This particular pool is really nice, with a good sized kid-friendly area.  Usually, Ethan is content with playing there but was extra distracted yesterday; he wanted to do anything but what I asked him to do.

After umpteen times of him walking around the perimeter of the pool and ignoring my requests to play in the kiddie area, I decided we would take a break for a snack.  (I'm starting to see a strong correlation between his attitude and the length of time since food last entered his belly.)  He sat on the concrete, kicking his feet in the water while eating his pineapple, and stayed right where I asked him to.

Until he got up.

Thinking back now, it's like I was watching him in slow-motion, but it all happened so quickly at the time.  He stood up, started to walk away from us, and I asked him to come back.  He kept walking, simultaneously eating his snack, and got closer and closer to the edge of the pool.  (Can you see where this is going?)

"Surely he'll stop", I thought to myself.

I called his name louder, stood up from where I was sitting, and in mid-bite he walked right off into the water.

My eyes were locked on his body the entire time.  I took two huge steps through the wading pool.  My mind was racing. 

"Swim, Ethan, swim! ... but he doesn't know how!"

Two more steps into the deeper end.

"Hold your breath.  Please hold your breath."

One last leap got me to him.

By the time I wrapped my arms around his body, he had already managed to get his head above water.  To feel pride in the midst of that much fear felt a little strange, but I showered him with praise.  He was terrified and clung to me as we walked out of the water.

"You're OK", I kept telling him, as I kissed his forehead and listened for any rattled breathing.  He coughed up small amounts of water and recovered physically well before he calmed down emotionally.

As I sat with him on the lounge chair, I felt a surge of adrenaline run through my body as I started to think about what could have happened.  What if I had been 10 steps away, instead of 5? My legs started to shake at the thought and I silently thanked God for the instincts with which He has equipped us; a child's to doggy-paddle, and a mom's to act quickly.

I pulled Ethan closer, all the while checking his breathing and heart rate. I considered packing up and leaving, right then and there, but knew that would be projecting my fear onto Ethan.  He was ready to get back in, after all.

So we stayed, and I reinforced our rules for being at the pool.  He became much more compliant after the fall (and his snack), and we were able to enjoy the rest of our time in the water.  I watched him closely, held him closely, and remained so very thankful that he truly was OK.

But ... I'd be lying if I said I didn't come home and look-up "dry drowning symptoms".

And swim lessons.