Baptism by Pool Water

Last Saturday there was an International Schools Swim Meet. Pippi, together with her teammates were each signed up for two events: freestyle and breast stroke.

In order to give this story justice, I will have to paint a brief character sketch of Pippi. She is a quiet, reserved child, with a very big heart--she will give someone in need the shirt off her back and she truly delights in sharing her things with others. Most of the time, she is plagued by self-doubt--not the strongest child in the area of confidence. She is self-effacing, never wanting to call attention to herself. She guards her privacy passionately and likes to be left alone to do her business.

She was composed in the days leading up to the meet. But somehow, I knew there was something brewing because she wasn't quite her carefree self. I slept with her the night before the meet and talked about several scenarios that might happen. She started expressing anxiety. We talked some more and prayed. I told her that she should just go ahead and compete because there's nothing to be lost in the exercise and all to gain. "You're going there with nothing, so there's nothing you can possibly lose. But if you win, you can just imagine how big a thing that will be for you because you trained so hard." She fell asleep holding my hand so tight.

When we got to the venue (Brent, Mamplasan) I saw in her face, how disturbed she had become. When they started stripping down to their suits and gearing up, her tears started to fall--copious amounts in a steady stream. I hugged her and assured her that everything will be alright but inside I was losing composure as well, wondering how heartless a parent I might be for making a nine-year-old endure something terrifying like this. I kept asking myself if I was doing it for me or for her.

They proceeded with the warm-up: several laps across the 25-meter pool length. And each time she surfaced for a water break, she sobbed, tears drenching her face. She kept coming up to me asking to be taken home. It was serendipity that my good friend, psychologist Sophie Bate, mom of Pippi's teammate, Cali, was there too. I always look to her for wisdom in such matters and she said, "Let her cry. It'll be good to let it all out. She will be fine." Had she not been there I probably would have whisked Pippi home and spared her the agony.

It was Pippi's first time ever to compete and I knew that if she copped out on this one, she will never be able to live down the sense of failure, which might affect her self-confidence for a long time. I just kept telling myself that even if she doesn't finish the race, she must get in the pool. She must get in the water. She must do it, in spite of herself, in spite of her fear.

Minutes before the race she started lashing out at me, "Why did you bring me here? Why are you making me do this?" It was so easy to have simply snapped at her with as much anger but I kept calm and tried to appease her. When they called for her heat, I could see she was shaking. But I let go of everything--that was all I could do at that point.

They got up on the boards for the freestyle event. There were six competitors and she was in the middle lane. The girl on lane 6 accidentally fell from the board before the starting horn blew. The other 4 girls thought it was a start cue so they dove in. meanwhile, Pippi, who was drilled many times never to jump in without hearing the horn, hesitated, but seeing that she was the only one left outside the pool, she dove in as well. The referees called it a false start but the girls continued to race to the finish. Pippi, swam past each and every girl in spite of being the last one in and won it. After I saw how fast she swam, I felt very confident. But then, they had to do the race over again and I thought fatigue may slow her down in the next run.

Anyway, she breezed through it a second time and won first. I screamed my head off like a crazy woman trailing her from start to finish by the side of the pool. I probably would have jumped in there if there were no cordon. When she finished she was completely clueless. She didn't realize she had won it. It only sank in when they handed her the first place ribbon.

By the time she was called for the breast stroke she had already calmed down and I dare say that she appeared like she was looking forward to it. She was so relaxed that she was waving at me before she got on the board. Breast stroke is her favorite and so she breezed through it and got her second first-place ribbon!

For the rest of the day she was floating on air. The next morning I asked if it felt good to know how powerful one is inside, how great it must be to realize how one can dig deep and find so much strength and talent and bravery hiding way inside the soul. She smiled and said, "Yes, Mom." "You feel macho?" I asked her. She giggled and said, "Yes, very." I told her how lucky she is. Some people go through life shying away from challenges, never realizing how much they can do and just how far they can reach. Then she added, "Actually, that wasn't even my fastest. I was just, you know, swimming around. I can do way faster than that!" So I said to her, "Next time?" "Yes, Mom, next time."