Swimming in circles

This morning I feel numb. In truth I've been feeling like this for days, pretending everything is normal when really I just want to hide myself from the rest of the world and sit down and cry.

Everything's fine and I know that, which is why I don't understand my muddle. Likewise, I don't feel like blogging, but at the same time if I don't let these words flow out I'll drive myself mad.

So please forgive me while I use today's blog as my therapy couch.

I said everything's fine. It really is and for this I feel truly lucky.

But on Monday, something happened that I've not experienced before.

It was danger and the body-numbing effect that a parent experiences when it happens before their very eyes.

We'd been invited to a friend's house for an after-school swim, which was a happy occasion enjoyed by all on what was a beautiful sunny day. My eldest boy is a confident swimmer, where my youngest, who's almost five, needs buoyancy aids. He spent most of the time in the pool with armbands but towards the end he wanted to practice with floats instead - all in the shallow end, under my watchful eye.

Everything was fine until the announcement came that our host had served tea. Both boys got out of the pool along with the other children and we all walked to the spot near the poolside where I had left the towels, my youngest walking alongside me all the way, while the eldest approached from the other side.

As I reached for the towels to dry off my children, I heard a splash. My youngest boy who had been at my side had suddenly turned and jumped back into the pool to join a friend who hadn't yet climbed out.

But it was the deep end.

And with no bouyancy aid he soon began to struggle. There was no time to rely on hope that his attempts at the doggy-paddle would lead him back to the edge. Very quickly I could see him going under.

Fully clothed, I did what any other parent would do and jumped in. As I write, I can still feel the warmth of the water surrounding my own body, submerged below the surface. I can also feel the urgency of lifting him above the surface and the relief as a friend pulled him back to the poolside.

All over within seconds and all safe and sound.

I should be happy and relieved, and yes I am. We were lucky. My intrepid diver did not swallow the water and didn't suffer any breathing difficulties. My quick reactions made sure that didn't happen.

We are indeed both okay.

But despite this, my emotions have been swimming in circles ever since. Every day I wake up with images of him struggling to swim and very day I thank my lucky stars that I was there and that I dived in just in time. I relive both the panic and the relief. But I also tell myself off for turning around for what I know was just a split second. It reminds me what could have happened and that makes me feel numb. If I hadn't turned to get the towels, he wouldn't have jumped back in. If he'd kept his arm-bands on, he wouldn't have struggled. It all goes through my mind. Grateful and sorrowful feelings marching through my thoughts arm-in-arm.

Of course, while I remain immersed in my thoughts, pretending that everything is normal when it really isn't, he doesn't seem to be affected by the incident at all. He was the first to tell me off for jumping into a swimming pool with my clothes on. And when I pulled my mobile phone out of my jeans pocket, he told me I was silly to get it drenched in the water.

That phone is still drying out in the airing cupboard in the hope it will work again, a daily reminder of what happened.

I've since used it to explain that gadgets and belongings are replaceable, while precious human life is not. I think it's helped him to understand why people both young and old have to take care and the importance of protecting the fragility of life, our own as well as that of others.

This was one incident, that was over in a flash and thankfully had a happy ending. As a parent, I know there will be others and I will face those as they arise.

So having let these words fall from my fingers, I now feel better and can only thank you for being my virtual therapists and listening to my thoughts.

I now feel able to move on and in my muddly own way to be able to get on with those things that I've avoided over the last few days, while I've been immersed in my confused emotions. So while I tend to that ever-increasing list, I promise I'll be back soon to resume normal service.

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