This story was published on Her View From Home. Original blog post here.
September 2, 2023 was one of the more beautiful days of the slipping away New Hampshire summer. It had been a rainy and cool summer, making the swimming and water activity opportunities a little less than ideal. But God blessed us with a beautiful Labor Day weekend where our extended family did as we had done for over a decade.
All 17 of us gathered, including my sisters, spouses, nieces, nephews, and my parents at their house on the lake. The day started as it often does when we are all together: kids waking up super early knowing cousin snuggles and TV await them. Eventually, we made our way to the inevitable question of what to do for breakfast, everyone being super mindful of my nephew’s egg allergy. This is always at the forefront of our brains as a potential danger hiding in plain sight when we gather in this large and loving group. Everyone ate and proceeded to get in their bathing suits.
We all played down at the waterfront for hours, alternating between swimming, fishing, skipping rocks, and jumping off the moored raft about 20 yards from the dock’s end. We were soaking in what we had been missing for most of the summer with our collective nine kids, affectionately grouped into the Bigs (10, 8, and 8), the Middles (three 5-year-olds), and the Littles (3, 2, and 1).
Come mid-afternoon, my 5-year-old daughter and niece were reminded that this was the finale of summer. If they intended to meet their goal of swimming to the raft without a life jacket, it was now or next summer. They bravely accepted the challenge.
We pulled the other kids out of the water so we could watch intently. My brother-in-law Mike decided to swim parallel to them just in case either kiddo panicked or tired. The girls excitedly jumped off the dock and swam out. The Bigs cheered them on. They MADE it! My husband Joe and I had been watching from the docked pontoon boat with our 13-month-old Caleb. We turned around to pick him up and bring him in on the cheering, and he was gone.
“Where is Caleb?!” my husband shouted. The front swinging door to the boat was now open. We both ran to the front and Joe jumped in blindly.
I remember screaming, “Get him!” as I saw my baby lying motionless, staring up emptily in his footed football PJs, just under the water’s surface. Joe quickly pulled him from the water blue, limp, and lifeless. He handed him to my sister Lindsey, who stepped in front of me to receive him as I froze. She flipped him over banging on his back as I called his name.
I screamed for Mike, that brother-in-law who accompanied the Middles on their swim to the raft. He sprinted in as I fell to my knees and did nothing but pray and hold my 3-year-old. By this point, Lindsey, who was not CPR certified on humans, but works in animal medicine, looked at her Godson and estimated him to be the size of a large cat. She had begun chest compressions as if he were just that until Mike got in to take over.
Caleb was still without a pulse, not breathing, and blue. I remember asking my sister in complete disbelief that this would even be a question I’d ever ask of her, “Is he going to die?”
She looked at me and calmly said, “Mike’s here; keep praying.” Mike did multiple rounds of CPR and Caleb began to show very faint signs of life. Lindsey thought she felt a weak pulse and they kept at it. A few more breaths and Caleb vomited. He remained a scary shade of gray.
I remember Mike and Lindsey so delicately carrying him toward the road, continuing to assess him with each step, talking to him, making sure he didn’t slip backward as he was clearly in this fragile state of being on the brink of life and death. He finally began to cry while getting settled into the ambulance. Mike assured me this was a great sign and to just keep talking to him.
We made it to the children’s hospital where he was met by no less than 30 providers in the trauma bay. He was assessed, admitted, and monitored closely. During our stay, his improvement was so dramatic. He literally went from clinically dead to smiling and giggling within hours. I remember asking the hospital staff, “Is this normal?” They shared that they usually treat 5-10 drownings per summer, but that Caleb had been their only one that year.
I believe that the dreary, cold, rainy weather I had been annoyed by for much of the summer likely kept many away from the Lakes region and saved another four to nine families from the trauma we experienced that day.
Drowning happens. No one is immune to it. This happened to our family despite all of our water safety vigilance, child locks, checks, headcounts, buddy systems for kids; no one was drinking; there were eight adults to nine kids ALL. RIGHT. THERE. We try very hard to anticipate anything that could go wrong, and it seems that the hinge to the bow of the boat somehow dislodged. It’s still unclear how; the security footage showed the door latched and closed at 2:09 and Caleb receiving CPR at 2:12 and no footage to indicate how the door ever opened. The not knowing is something that still tortures me. Not being able to identify the blind spot we had no idea was there is still haunting.
But here is what I do know: I know God put Mike with us that weekend—conservatively, he is with us half of the time because of his work schedule. Believe it or not, he is a lieutenant with the fire department and a member of their Dive, Rescue, and Recovery team. I know God put my sister there to step in and fight for my baby when I froze. I know God put the Bigs exactly where they were to help.
My 10-year-old nephew ran a quarter of a mile up the road to direct the ambulance at the split of the road that the GPS often fumbles, knowing time was of the essence. My 8-year-old niece swam out, calmed, and kept her hands on the Middles on the raft knowing the adult attention was diverted to Caleb as her dad swam in. My 8-year-old son stood vigil at his brother’s head as he received CPR and when that became too much for him to watch, he put on a life jacket and paddled life jackets out to his sister and cousin so they would be safe, illustrating the water safety we have drilled into these kids, as he also recognized no adults had eyes on them.
Drowning is the leading cause of death in children ages 1-4 and the second leading cause, behind car accidents, for children ages 5-14. Did you know the majority of childhood drownings happen when you aren’t even expecting your children to be swimming? CPR is what saved Caleb’s life. The hospital was explicitly clear with us that if we did not have someone trained on-site, we would have lost him. He would not be here.
So it is my mama heart’s plea that somewhere amidst the chaos of growing, birthing, and raising these amazing blessings, that anyone who loves their own Big, Middle, or Little, find the time to become CPR educated. It was the life-saving difference maker for our sweet Little.