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The Goddess Speaks
IT was a perfect day for swimming. There wasn't a cloud in the sky when my 2-year-old daughter, Maria, and I walked to the pool of the condominium we had just moved into. I set towels on the ground near a pretty, dark-haired woman in her late twenties who dried herself and proceeded to put on her shorts and shirt. We chatted a while, then she stared at the pool and took a few steps toward the edge. "Isn't that your daughter?"she asked. Split-second moment
good for lifeI turned and saw Maria in the water, gasping for air, thrashing to keep afloat, then sinking to the bottom of the pool. I had forgotten to put the water wings on her arms and she had jumped in, as she had learned to do when my husband and I were in the pool.
I leaped to my feet but froze, terrified. She's dead, I thought. What a stupid, negligent, careless mother I am! "Oh, please," I shouted, "get her!"
The woman, dressed in dry clothes, jumped into the pool, picked up the tiny, seemingly lifeless body, and brought her to the surface. Maria's skin was blue-gray and her eyes were closed. I dragged her from the woman's hands and placed her stomach-down on the ground.
Not knowing CPR at the time, I instinctively pumped her back. Water gushed out of her mouth with every bit of pressure I applied. I held her upside down by her ankles. More water flowed out. She started to cry and her skin returned to its normal color.
"Your daughter will be all right," the woman said.
After telling my husband what had happened, I drove Maria to the nearest emergency room. The doctor informed me that there was water in her lungs and she would have to spend the night in the hospital for observation. Because of her age, he told me to stay with her.
Still in my bikini, I telephoned my husband to bring me a pair of pants and a shirt. To this day, I still don't know why he selected a pair of maroon plaid slacks and an orange-striped shirt.
The nurse placed Maria in a crib. I lay on a cot next to her. Sleep was impossible.
The next morning, more X-rays were taken and Maria was discharged from the hospital.
THAT night as I ran her bath, Maria began to scream. I realized she was afraid of the water. I had to coax her into the tub. Two weeks later, my husband and I took Maria to the pool. She refused to enter, walking cautiously around it and watching others frolicking in the water. I wondered when she would overcome her fear.
Time is a great ally. Gradually, she forgot her nearly fatal experience, first dangling her legs over the edge of the pool, splashing the water with her feet, then slowly lowering herself in. I made sure her water wings were on and I observed her constantly. As a new mother I had learned the hard way how quickly children can get into life-threatening danger. That same year I signed up for a Red Cross CPR class.
Now 22, Maria swims like a fish and has no memory of that accident. For the past four years, she has been a Summer Fun teacher who knows CPR and has led her group of students to the pool and the beach. What a wonderful athlete she has become -- tall, strong and lithe! She left yesterday for Berkeley, where she will be pursuing her master's degree in education.
I don't know the name of the woman who rescued my daughter, but where ever you are, please accept my deepest thanks for your courage and swift action. I apologize for ruining your clothes that day. I will never forgive myself for being so careless, but as you predicted, Maria is all right. I wish you could see her now. Mahalo nui loa.
Glenda Chung Hinchey is a library assistant.
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