My head between my hands, I wondered what kind of mom I was.

Summer 2013.


He was just with me next the pool. Now, after announcing he was going to help Shawn work behind the shed, I watched him walk around the corner — away from the pool area — and went back to my book.

“Shawn,” I yelled after a few minutes. “Did Logan make it over to you?”

“No, I haven’t seen him.”

We scoured the yard before I decided to check the house.

And that’s when I found four-year old Logan with his back against the dining room wall, and his eyes barely open. Something wasn’t right, he was barely responding as I called his name.

Moments later, our entire family stood shivering in the emergency room dressed in nothing but wet swimsuits while Logan lay sprawled out on the bed.

If guardian angels are real, then Logan’s are highly trained in their field, because he is a high-risk.

Like when he ran off from us at Fun City. And by us, I mean Shawn.

When the boys were too young to go down big waterslides, Shawn and I took turns supervising in the kiddy pool while the other walked around the waterpark.

By the way, have I ever mentioned that I have terrible eyesight?

Without glasses or contacts the world is a blurry place for me, and that just so happened to be the year I decided to wear glasses full time. This means at the waterparks, I had to leave my sole source of eyesight with Shawn and bumble around squinting.

After one trip down the big slide, I decided to go again since there was no line. And when I arrived at the top, I noticed a blurry figure holding a baby blur.

I shook my head. Why on earth is a baby on a waterslide?

Some parents.

Now standing behind them, I felt something tugging on my swimsuit.

People say a mother would know her child anywhere, but I am the shining contradiction to that statement. That kid grabbed my arm and pulled me until we were face to face, and I squinted with all my might before finally seeing the truth.


I could not make out a single distinctive feature on the man’s face as I took Logan from his arms. I thanked him while rambling that I was going to kill my husband. I didn’t even mention that I was practically blind at the moment.

Truth is, I am shocked he handed the kid over to me.

Right then I regained my eyesight — I saw pure red.

Shawn met me moments later in sheer panic as he yelled to the lifeguard to call off the small search party that had formed.

“I swear, he was there one minute and then he was just gone.”

My anger melted while Shawn held tight to his two-year-old son, who was already squirming in his arms and pointing to the big waterslide that he fully believed he was next in line to go down.

Eight years later, we can make light of the situation, but at the time we were shaken to the core. We left the waterpark and thanked God for protecting Logan from the many tragedies that could have happened.

And I continually reassured Shawn that he was still a good dad (which is true, he is one of the best).

And now it was his turn to reassure me.

My head between my hands, I wondered what kind of mom I was. The doctor believed he was over-heated on what was one of the hottest days of the year — and while I provided Logan with a bottle of water, I guess I failed to make sure he was drinking it.

Shawn went eye-level with me.

His eyes told me it wasn’t my fault. His touch told me that it was going to be OK — and it was OK.

As Logan perked up, I found myself in that usual place between thankful and losing my mind as he tried to pull out his IV and pushed every button his little fingers could find.

That’s parenting. Beautiful, heart wrenching, and nerve wracking.

It’s the realest and rawest thing I’ve ever participated in.

In my swimsuit. In the emergency room.