As a child, I took swimming lessons but never quite managed to conquer my fears. At some point, I simply stopped trying. Maybe it was the jellyfish sting I endured in the Chesapeake Bay that left me trembling, or the harrowing memory of watching my little brother almost drown in a motel pool, prompting my non-swimmer father to leap in after him. Thankfully, my mother, grounded on land, had to save both of them with a pool pole.
Fast forward to when I had my own kids, I was determined that they would master swimming instead of just splashing around. Given that my husband also couldn’t swim, I wanted my children to be equipped to save themselves in any water situation.
Throughout preschool, I dragged my daughter, Lily, to weekly swimming lessons. By the end of the sessions, she was so anxious that she wouldn’t even dip her toes in the water. Eventually, I told her, “You don’t have to go anymore.” “Thank you, Mommy!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around me.
A few years later, I tried the same approach with Lily’s younger sister, Mia, but I quickly realized that Mia too was losing confidence in the water. While I cherished those heartfelt hugs, it broke my heart to think of my daughters feeling the same isolation I had experienced.
Miraculously, a few years later, both of my city kids discovered their love for the water and learned to swim on their own. I still remember watching Lily dash along the concrete edge of a pool, let out a victorious shout, and leap into the deep end without a moment’s hesitation. Normally, I might have scolded her for running, but my own insecurities overwhelmed me, and I found myself in tears, hiding behind a book on the hot tub’s edge.
That summer, we traveled to Hawaii, where our friend Sarah, an enthusiastic swimmer, organized a kayaking adventure for her and Lily. It was an exhilarating but nerve-wracking moment for me as they ventured into the ocean. When they returned, Mia insisted on her turn, swapping places with Lily and heading out to sea while I pretended to be calm on my beach towel.
When Sarah offered me a chance to join them, I panicked and thought of countless reasons to decline. Would I drown? Would I get water up my nose? But then I pictured my future self, forever stuck on the shore with a fake smile plastered on my face. In a daze, I grabbed Sarah’s shoulders and asked, “Will you save me if I need it?” She assured me she would, and before I knew it, I was in the kayak, laughing and paddling alongside her, feeling the ocean’s energy beneath me. When we reached shore, Lily ran to me and hugged me tightly, understanding the courage it took for me to join them.
Despite my adventures, I still didn’t learn to swim that summer or the next. Then life took a turn; my husband and I separated, and two years later, my daughters and I enrolled in our local Y. I attended my first swimming lesson in decades, and while I got my hair wet and water in my nose, I still didn’t learn to swim. Work, raising kids, and life in general kept me from finishing those lessons.
For the longest time, I viewed my swimming journey as a failure, especially when I saw my daughters initially following in my footsteps. But they eventually learned to swim. How could that be? I pondered. Perhaps, I still have a chance to learn as I navigate midlife, but I no longer feel embarrassed about my lack of swimming skills. What matters most is that my daughters witnessed my attempts and resilience. I’ve come to realize that the greatest legacy I can give them is the courage to try, even when faced with challenges I can’t overcome. In that regard, I consider myself a success.
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Summary:
In this heartfelt narrative, a mother reflects on her fear of swimming and her determination to ensure her daughters learn to swim, despite her own struggles. Through various experiences, she realizes that the most important lesson she can impart is the value of perseverance and the courage to try, even in the face of failure.