Like A Rock... (Memoir Monday with Travis)

This is my first time doing Memoir Monday. So be gentle as I get this cherry popped, please??

If you care to jump in to the fire and have some fun spilling your guts to the world about a memory of times past, then click on the button above, then go grab the linky and do a Memoir Monday of your own.

So, here is my story...


For all of my childhood, and a small portion of my early teen-hood, I never was able to swim. Being I had a trache in my throat, if I went under the water, then the water would seep directly in to my lungs, via the hole in my throat.

Sure, I did go in to pools, but stayed in the shallow end. I never dunked under the water. But I did tilt my head back, or immerse my face. That was the limits to my "swimming".

After the trache was removed, and the hole was sewn closed (six months after the initial taking out), I was able to TRULY get wet in a pool (or even a bathtub). But I still stayed in the shallow area of the pools I would get in to.

But during those years of not being able to swim, my parents and I would camp at this one pristine lake area. Every year, like clock work, I had the same stupid accident.

I'd be walking in the lake water, that went to my thighs at the depth I would go to. But somehow, some way, every single year, the same catastrophe would occur.

The sand bed would catch my foot and pull me under, as if I slipped on a wax floor. And every year that happened, I would have water rushing in to my lungs, per the trache. And yes, I was drowning as I panicked, being I couldn't pull myself up.

After the first two times of this happening, the camp security would know instinctively the next year that if they saw us, to keep an eye out and be prepared to call 911. Why? Because it became tradition for me to drown for five straight years in a row.

Yes, I apparently loved the lake so very much, I had to go down under and kiss the sand grains.

Yesterday, we went to my in-law's house to get in the pool. Normally, I wear these yellow water wings, seeing as I prefer not to be a rock and sink to the bottom. Bryce normally wears them and/or a life vest while in the deep end as well.

But my sister-in-law kind of looked at me funny as my other sister-in-law (BIL's ex-wife) told the first one that it doesn't surprise her and both her and Scott told his sister that I never got to learn EVERYTHING about swimming on the deep end due to the trache.

Sure, I can breast stroke, back stroke, doggy paddle, and even float on my back. But never could I get the hang of bobbing-type floating. Like a buoy.

But this all changed as of yesterday as my two SIL's coaxed me to try floating without the wings in the deep end. Of course, I stayed by the wall. But within thirty minutes, I was out in the middle of a nine-foot deep pool, bobbing like a floating apple.

Then, I got gutsy and jumped off the side of the pool (with goggles on to protect my bad eye). Then, my courage and confidence came in to full swing. My husband for the first time ever in our ten years together, saw me jumping off of the diving board (feet first, mind you) and coming back up with ease, only to float like I'd been doing it most of my life.

It took me twenty years past the removal of my trache to overcome fear and hesitation. But, finally, I did so. As did Bryce. He and I both "graduated" to the big time and we are both now with the "big kids" when it comes to swim time.

I'd called my father, almost in tears, to let him know that I did it..finally, I did it. He even said it was better late than never. And I know that we both thought...if only mom could have been here to see this.