Today is Mother’s Day 2026. This is a day I do not like. To me it is a day to scrutinize my skills as a parent and I don’t have the best sense of “job well done” Oh, I am ever so proud of my children but it’s not me that gets the credit for that.
I put a lot of pressure on myself to NOT be like the mother I grew up with but instead to be the mother I wish I had. What role model did I have, tv moms and fictional characters in the books I read? Little did I know how unrealistic that was. I worry for the moms of this day and age. The social media effect and too many voices on how to do it best. I fear there’s no room for error and the constant pressure would have any one of us feeling inadequate. After all we are human and I know I’ve made my fair share of mistakes.
Our early years as parents we had what I suspect every family has in some form or other, stress. Stress from work, finances, family and even achieving our dreams. It was exhausting. For me getting through those years I leaned heavily on Dave, I kept reminding myself of our blessings and I gave a lot up to prayer.
By now many of you know parts of my story, the childhood that no adult should ever face and the love I found early. Another part of my story is my faith. Faith is typically something you feel and don’t physically see. I know there is a higher power watching over us, loving us and in certain circumstances appearing before us. I have living proof and however tough this is to spell out I feel the time has come.
Our miracle occurred in early spring, just after the kids were released from school schedules and were dreaming of days full of fun in the sun. It was store number four for Dave, we were as poor as church mice and were working on a debt so large Dave took naps between jobs. Thankfully our number four had arrived healthy despite the challenges and was holding her own. She was toddling around and being mothered by her older siblings. With our four kids it made sense for me to have an in-home daycare and with school out I had added kids that day. The week prior I purchased a small blow up pool for the backyard and two nights before we thoughtfully placed it far from the house and the many shade trees. A spot out in the sun to warm the water and hopefully far from the curious child. I remember explaining to them our plans for splashing and water guns, but to not go out there without an adult.
It was around lunchtime that day and we were adapting to a new schedule. Finding things for the older kids to do and keeping up with the younger ones made it a challenge I thought I could handle. We were all outside, some playing in the sandbox, some throwing a ball back and forth and a couple on the freshly poured patio with a new little tikes picnic table. I consider myself a fairly thoughtful person and that day it occurred to me with the tall kitchen window that faced the patio it would be fun to play fast food drive thru. The kids could “order” their lunch and I’d pass it out the window. I pulled my oldest two aside and explained the plan and went inside to make the meal.
To this day I wonder where my head was. Why had I put the pool out of my mind? Why did I ever think it was safe?
Inside the kitchen, the windows were open and from the table where I was prepping I could see the backyard. I spread peanut butter over several slices of bread, added some carrots to their plates and opened a fresh bag of chips. I glanced back outside before filling up a row of sippy cups and started counting heads, one was missing…(deep breath)
Our oldest was out by one of the trees, ball glove in hand he was bent over picking up the ball he missed. I yelled out asking him where she was. He looked at me then turned his attention to the yard around him. I started for the back door. A couple of the girls were already seated at the picnic table, four were in the sandbox, digging. The boy playing catch had dropped his glove and was walking toward the patio.
There’s this feeling a mom gets when fear takes over and adrenaline starts kicking in. I remember reaching the sandbox that was smack dab in the middle of the yard and seeing Ryan carrying her to me. Her clothes were dripping, her arms hung lifeless and her head was slack…I screamed a noise I didn’t hear as blood thumped in my ears. I carried her over beside the back door where somehow the cordless phone sat leaned against the step, I have no idea how it got there. I laid her on the grass and I dialed 911. Per the operator’s instructions I started administrating CPR. She was so cold and pale, incredibly heavy and not breathing. I pressed my knees into the grass on either side of her and starting pumping her small chest, breathing air into her little lungs until finally I heard sirens. A state patrol officer was the first to arrive. He was close patrolling interstate 80 right next to the Bondurant exit. He pulled into our gravel drive lights flashing and hopped out of his car. No introductions were made as he nudged me aside and took over the CPR. Somehow the 911 operator disconnected. I don’t remember hanging up. The next to arrive was an ambulance pulling up out in front of the house, we lived on the main road through town. A paramedic raced over and picked her up taking her to the ambulance. Neighbors started showing up, all of the kids were silent, watching. From the road where I stood I watched two paramedics working on her. When they turned her onto her side the amount of water flowing from her small body and spilling all over the floor was unimaginable. I listened for any sound from her. The portable phone was still in my hand. I lifted it up and with shaky fingers was able to dial the store. When Dave answered all I could manage was “Emily fell into the pool and is not breathing” (I remember this specifically, it’s etched in my brain) That was all I gave him. That’s what he had for his thirty-minute drive home. He arrived in record time just as a helicopter was landing at the intersection closest to the house. Seeing he couldn’t get to our driveway he parked his ford ranger in the ditch of a neighboring house and took off on foot for his family. Emily was strapped down to a gurney and being loaded; emergency people were telling us where they were taking her.
Out of nowhere the kids’ kindergarten teacher, who had been close by at the school finishing her to do list for the year, was beside me. Sarah was holding her hand and sucking her thumb, a habit I thought we’d kicked. Mrs. Burris offered to watch all of the kids until their families arrived and take our children home with her. You see, God works in mysterious ways.
I road in silence next to Dave as he drove us manically into the Des Moines traffic. I waited for questions about how I could let this happen. My heart still in my throat we walked into the emergency area at Blanks Children’s Hospital. The freezing air conditioning and my wet clothes weren’t the cause of my shaking but a kind nurse who sat us in those molded plastic chairs brought me a dry t-shirt. When the doctor did come out, he explained what they are watching for, what the lack of oxygen can damage but that currently she seems completely fine.
Do you see now how we were blessed with many miracles that day?
The days that followed were days of extreme gratitude but were also punctuated with guilt. I remember the flowers that starting arriving, the balloons and kind words of support. Good friends lined up a CPR class for us and in their basement, we learned the skill. Good morning America called. They wanted to feature our story on the news. I remember thinking of the embarrassment of my shame as a parent but the importance of water safety and CPR training won out. A white limo pulled up in front of the rental house at five A.M. on the dot. With Dave at work I herded our four children into the plush interior and the chauffer closed the door. A short drive later we arrived a non-descript building where inside someone had set up some chairs, there was a big screen tv on one wall, some camera men and blinding lights hung glaring at us. Emily was sitting on my lap when we went live. The first thing I heard was my own frantic voice. I listened as that moment in time replayed and I saw myself doing just as the operator told me. Tears were streaming down my face when Diane Sawyer appeared on the screen. I felt frozen in time. My only purpose was to hopefully save someone from my mistake. Laid bare on national tv was humbling. I know I said something like take the time and take the course. That was my line. In no time at all the segment concluded and we were back at home for breakfast.
Remember how I told you I have living proof? She is our living proof. That day in early spring when our oldest was just about seven and was playing ball in his backyard, the unimaginable happened. When I was counting heads and missing one I yelled out to him to ask where she was. He looked around him and replied he didn’t know, it was then he that he got help. He told me weeks later that a man wearing all white appeared from behind a tree and took him to Emily who was face down in the pool. He told me how heavy she was and hard to get out. That when he looked for the man who showed him where she was, he was gone and he saw me racing toward him.
Ryan was in boy scouts and received a special plaque that year, they held a ceremony and everything. We got to meet the 911 operator and state patrol officer. We took treats to the Bondurant fire house where the paramedics were happy to see our Emily up and about.
I learned a lot through that time. I learned about humanity, about those who stick beside you and those who don’t. I know that faith is something you feel and I know there are times when you can physically see it.
I believe there is no bigger responsibility than being a parent, but there’s no greater reward either. This Mother’s Day cut yourself some slack, have faith and know you’re not ever alone.
