I Survived Swimming Class (and no, I did not get in the water) Part 1

Early fall was marked by the start of something life-changingly terrifying: swimming class for kids. It's generally a good idea in Florida because the neighborhoods are dotted with pools and retention ponds. So we enrolled our 3-year old girl and 1-year old boy in Infant Swimming Resource classes. This is a 4-day-a-week, 10-minutes-a-day, tear-soaked class. When I parked outside the swim instructor's home, I could find the way to the backyard pool by following the echoing sounds of infant crying.

Rosie clutched my hand apprehensively, but was still excited to get in the water. She had, after all, been in her grandparent's pool and played gleefully on the steps for many an afternoon. When she entered the pool, she clung stiffly to the instructor, trying to be brave. Within the first 20 seconds of being in the pool, the instructor dipped her head underwater. This is the same girl that cries vehemently when you wash her hair and water drips in her eye. Well, from that moment on, Rosie's bravery dissolved and she burst into loud, savage tears. The crying only stopped when she went underwater. To me the crying was heart-wrenching but also reassuring. It meant she was still alive and breathing.

Simon cried all through his lesson too.

Here is a photo of each of their expressions during their first lesson:

Rosie is trying hard not to cry. 

Simon is looking at me for help. He's wondering why I'm clapping.

After the first lesson, it was like Rosie had snapped. She screamed in the car, "Let's not go back." When her father asked her about swim class, she ran and hid. When it was time for a bath, she refused to get in the tub. The next morning, while she was still wiping sleep from her eyes, the first thing she asked was if we had to go back. When she heard my answer, she laid on the floor and sobbed. When I tried to coax her into the car, she fled as if it was on fire. She was obsessed, crazed, and beyond stressed. This is what ISR is like for a 3-year-old.

My 1-year-old, however, was easier to handle. He could compartmentalize the experience (or forget it). So the moment he was out of the pool, he would return to his former happy self. 

Now, I'm not trying to discourage people from taking ISR. It's something that could save your child's life. I'm just trying prep the parents for the reality of what it can be like. And it was hard! 

So how did we continue to bring Rosie and Simon to ISR everyday, never missing a day? 

Hatchimals. 

It's a $3 toy that is just enough to soothe a tortured soul. Every time Rosie would cry in the mornings before swim class, all I'd have to do was yell out, "Hatchimal!" and like a trigger-word, she would cease. 

A spoonful of Hatchimal helps the medicine go down.

I don't know if I'd suggest the toy-bribe method every time your child needs to do something hard, but in the case of Rosie's extreme anxiety, it was the way to go.

Something that I learned through this experience is that communication with your child is vital. After a couple weeks of class, Rosie's dad was snuggling close to her before bed. She said for the hundredth time, "I don't want to go to swim class tomorrow."

"Why is that?"

"The teacher drops me in the water." 

"Well, she needs to do that. That way you learn to swim."

"I don't want her to let go."

"Why?"

"If she lets go, I need to swim. If I don't swim, I'll sink to the bottom and die."

"You will not die. If you sink to the bottom, the teacher will get you and pick you up."

Her dad relayed this conversation to me, and at the time we chuckled at her dramatic take on things. Later, however, I reflected on her feelings – how swimming was a matter of life or death. How alone she felt struggling in the water, not sure if anyone would save her. It helped me to be more comforting and understanding towards her when she stressed out before swim class. It made me appreciate the true bravery she had, getting into the pool everyday and facing what she thought was death. I also noticed the confidence she began to have after learning more and more. "I did it!" she said to me one day, still dripping pool water from her lesson. "I'm so proud!" I said back. 

Well, how did it all end up? Did ISR work? Was it worth it? I'll let you know in Part 2!