Friday, July 3, 2009

Will went into the water...

We are in Kansas City, land of my youth, visiting my brother. Today, we went to a really cool petting zoo/farmstead and for the bargain price of zero dollars and zero cents, you are in the door to warm and smelly goats, pigs, ponies, chickens and all that petting zoo loveliness. For the insanely reasonable price of $10 a person, you get a ride on a pony, a horse-drawn wagon ride, a chance to feed a baby goat with a bottle, a fishing pole rental and something else I don't remember, but I am sure is fabulous. Will rode the wagon and loved it. Will rode some pedal tractors and loved it. Will went into the farmhouse and flew down the slides and... you guessed it... he loved it. Then, it was fishing time.

We rented a cane pole and it took three people to bait the hook. Mike tried. I tried. Finally my mom schooled us on appropriate worming techniques. She channelled her dad on that one. Grandpa was a fisherman, and we reminisced about catching Blue Gill with him while Will threw out his line. First cast and his worm was gone instantly. Second worm... second cast... and Will caught his first fish. It was a Blue Gill and a fat one. He grinned as it flopped on the line. He posed for a picture and the fish twisted off the hook almost as soon as the picture was snapped. Mark dove for the fish to get it back in the water... Will freaked that the fish was flopping on the dock outstretched over the center of the fishing pond and within a nanosecond both the fish and Will went into the water. Splash. Silence. Panic.

Will had backed up to the rope railing and over the edge he went. Will can't swim. Will disappeared into the deep, murky water. I can still see his feet disappearing into the darkness. Will was gone.


Uncle Mike was in the water before anyone else reacted. As Will's splash resettled back onto the top of the pond Mike uttered "oh shit" and went in. It took only seconds and Mike held Will above the surface for Mark to grab from his arms. I don't know if I moved. I don't think I breathed. But, I know when I saw Will break through the water into the air all I could do is scream "Get my baby! Get my baby!" When Will was safely and soggy in my arms I breathed and said "get my brother! Get my brother!" who was then struggling to pull himself from the depths and back onto the dock. I held Will and I cried. I don't know where I was going, but I picked him up and carried him to a seat and I sobbed. I don't cry. I don't sob. But, I felt like my life almost ended in that 30 second experience. I held him and I cried. I caressed his hair and I sobbed. I bawled like a baby as I ran through all of the "what could have beens." I type this out, hours later, and the tears spill out again at the thought of what tonight could have been. What I could be typing. How I would even be existing if that dark water swallowed him and didn't give him back? My world would have ended today. My world could have ended today. Will went into the water, and I felt like I was drowning, if only for a few seconds. I couldn't breathe.

I can hear Will in the bathtub right now. Uncle Mike, Daddy and Jack in the bathroom playing and talking and splashing. I hear a splash from down the hall and I think of the splash from this afternoon. And I cry.


Tuffy said...

But of course, the good news is that he's totally fine. He loves saying he was swimming with the fishies. Luckily he has no clue about the Godfather's meaning of that statement. :)

Tuffy said...

and if i never replaced the blackberry, I don't care :)

Lynda said...

We all grow quickly when accidents like that one happen. Thankfully, your brother Mike (like my brother Mike) knew what to do and did it. Feel the hug; pass it on to your son and brother. It's an experience that you will never forget--and that's a very good thing.

Amie said...

I can't even glad everyone is okay.

Homa said...

Awww, you made me cry too. I can only imagine how you felt; I'm sure it was something close to the Cayden shower story...horrifying!

Thank God everyone is okay. And, now Will will (that just looks wierd?) have his own "when I was 3 story"!

Jounice said...

I know exactly how you feel. I had the same experience when Daniel was about 5. We all saw him go into the pool and couldn't move. Thank God Christopher was like Mike in a "Oh Crap" kind of moment when he jumped in and pulled him out. You just want to say Thank you Lord and never let him go.

I'm happy that everything turned out and he is ok!

Kristina said...

Hi, I really like your blog, and would like to include it in my diploma paper in Discourse Analysis. I would really appreciate it if you could take a couple of minutes to take part in the research, so if you're interested please visit my blog.

Karen said...

I'm so glad that he's alright. It's so scary when our kids are in danger.

Laura said...

God bless you and little Will. I just lost my two beloved dogs yesterday (they were killed by coyotes) and during the few moments that I've stopped sobbing long enough to think clearly, the thought has been "thank God it wasn't one of my kids". I'm failing miserably at controlling my grief over the dogs. I can't imagine what losing a child would do to me.

I'm glad all is well.


Domestic Goddess (In Training) said...

Mike - Thank goodness we got Will and the new blackberry. All is right with the world.

Lynda - Thanks for the good thoughts!

Amie - You and me both.

Homa - Oh sure... throw that in to make me feel bad about laughing at the Cayden shower story. I get it now.

Jounice - I am happy for both of us.

Kristina - Thanks for reading. I will fill it out soon.

Karen - It really is. Stupid kids!!!! No wonder my hair is so gray!

Laura - WHAT ARE YOU THINKING POSTING ABOUT YOUR DOGS AND NOT CALLING!!!! Dialing your number over and over until you answer and cry with me. God knows I do cry for dogs!

Domestic Goddess (In Training) said...

For the record, after alerting a bunch of my friends to the news about Laura's dogs, I realized that I don't actually know this Laura. So, Laura who posted, please don't think you are insane. I thought you were my local friend. But, I still feel bad about your dogs, and wish you the best (although I promise not to phone stalk you or expect a phone call from you).