Essential Information for Parents

Every summer, I would read tales of near drownings (or worse) and think, “I’m so relieved that didn’t happen to me.” Then it did.

I always kept a close eye on my kids, leading me to believe we were safe. Then one day, I found my toddler unconscious at the bottom of a hot tub, realizing just how fast a child can drown.

I want to share this experience so that other parents can learn from what transpired with us.

This is our story.

I rushed into the ER, looking disheveled with wet hair and mismatched clothes.

“My daughter was just brought in. She was in a pool incident,” I stated.

A pool incident. That’s how they described it when my friend’s little girl drowned years ago. At the time, I didn’t understand what it entailed, but now, I couldn’t even say, “My daughter nearly drowned.”

We had celebrated my eldest son’s birthday with a pool party, and everyone enjoyed themselves while my 2-year-old daughter loved splashing in the water with her life jacket.

We’re cautious around water. I believed I understood how quickly tragedies can occur.

As we were packing up to leave, I took off her life jacket, wrapped her in a towel, and set her on a deck chair.

“I go hot tub,” she declared.

“No,” I replied. The hot tub was a favorite of hers, but I knew once she got in, getting her out would take forever. “It’s time to head home now.”

I left her seated on the deck chair while I continued clearing up. With six adults nearby, I felt a sense of reassurance. After all, what could possibly go wrong with so many eyes on her?

The reality is, you can never let your guard down around water when children are present. Never.

A few minutes later, something sparked my attention, and I began searching for my daughter. She was nowhere in sight. I checked the pool first, but she wasn’t there. The gate was open, so I worried she might have wandered out into traffic. I nearly headed outside first.

I’m incredibly grateful I didn’t.

Tall bushes separated the pool from the hot tub; I dashed over to check the other side. What I witnessed as I emerged from the bushes was horrifying.

My daughter was face-down in the middle of the hot tub… and I had no idea how long she’d been submerged.

“She’s in the water!” I screamed to my husband as I sprinted toward the hot tub, leaping in fully clothed.

Whether it was a shock response or the fact that I was just a month post-C-section and still recovering, my body didn’t function the way I wanted. I couldn’t lift my daughter’s head above the surface quickly enough. I managed to push her closer to the edge, and just then my husband reached it. He was holding one of the twins while reaching into the water with his free hand.

They say time slows in emergencies, but it’s a peculiar feeling when it happens to you. What felt like an eternity was only a brief moment. My husband rapidly handed off the baby and began desperately working on our daughter.

She wasn’t breathing.

That image will haunt me for the rest of my life. Her eyes were open, yet devoid of life.

I’ve attended several CPR classes in the past, but it had been some time since my last, and I froze. What was I supposed to do? What was the first step? My mind had no space for anything aside from the fact that my child was lifeless.

My husband expelled water from her small body. Reflexively, she started to vomit.

[Editor’s note: This link contains more information on how to assist a drowning child.]

At last, she coughed and took a breath.

We had 911 on the phone, and whether it was right or not, since she was breathing, we believed we could reach the hospital faster than directing an ambulance to our community pool. My husband scooped her up and dashed to the hospital.

Upon arrival at the ER, they took me back immediately. My daughter was perched on my husband’s lap on the gurney in a large room filled with a medical team.

They informed me her oxygen levels were in the 80s, which was concerning. Her carbon dioxide levels were elevated. She had fluid in her lungs.

I managed to give my daughter a brief hug. Upon seeing me, she teared up and said, “Mommy” in her sweet little voice.

The doctor informed me they needed to intubate her to assist her breathing while her lungs recovered. He repeatedly reassured me that she would be fine, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe him just yet.

My daughter was sedated and intubated, and then we were told she’d need to be airlifted to the children’s hospital.

The team from the children’s hospital arrived, stabilized her, and transported her away, leaving my husband and me in the hallway holding her drenched bathing suit while strangers took our daughter to the helicopter that would fly away without us.

How could this happen? It only took minutes.

There were plenty of adults present.

None of us heard a thing.

Most mothers have seen the “Drowning Doesn’t Look Like Drowning” article. We’ve learned that drowning is often silent.

However, until you witness the rapid and quiet nature of it, the reality doesn’t truly hit home.

My daughter made no sound. She couldn’t. She didn’t splash or call for help. We were all just 10 feet away while she drowned.

At the hospital, they informed us that they often see the worst outcomes at family gatherings, where numerous people assume someone else is watching. Everyone feels they can let their guard down.

We were incredibly fortunate. The doctor informed us that my daughter had about 30 seconds left before her heart would have stopped. Reflecting on just how close we came sends chills down my spine.

After spending 24 hours on a ventilator and another day in the hospital for monitoring, my daughter finally came home, but not before expressing her displeasure to a nurse for removing the tape securing her IVs.

Today she’s as stubborn, bright, and wonderful as she was before the incident. Whenever I finally gather the courage to return to the pool with my children, I assure you I will be watching them like a hawk.

You cannot let your guard down with kids and water. Drowning can occur in mere seconds. It’s swift and silent and can happen to your child.

Fortunately, our story ended well. Nonetheless, we’re all dealing with the trauma, and that incident will remain with me indefinitely. The water will never quite look the same again.

This post originally appeared on Rachel’s blog, Busy Mommy Media.