The night before our first-ever swim lesson, my dad decided it was the perfect time to introduce his children to a cinematic classic: Jaws.
I’ve never been the same.
Open water of any kind freaks me out. Look at the ocean? Yes. Swim in it? I’d prefer not. I love waterskiing, but hate being in the deep part of the lake, and I try so hard to never fall (one of the reasons I’m not very good). I even remember taking a shower as a kid, getting soap in my eyes, and CONVINCING myself I’d open them and realize I was actually in one of those cages where nothing separated me from a great white except a few bars of wimpy metal.
I know it doesn’t make sense. Most phobias don’t.
Months after launching Hey Eleanor 1.0, my then-fiancee, now-husband Josh’s family invited me to Cancun. Josh packed all his scuba stuff, and introduced me to the concept of a “resort scuba class.” Basically, you try diving in the hotel pool, then can partake in a shallow (30 feet or less) open ocean dive.
I nearly exploded with anxiety, but I did the resort class, followed by the open water dive. It was AWESOME. Once you’re at the bottom, slowly moving through the water with calm, intentional breaths, it’s the most lovely meditation.
A year later, Josh and I went scuba diving at the Great Barrier Reef on our honeymoon. Oh my goodness, look at me, growing as a human being. On both trips, we saw plenty of fish, some eels, a turtle, a ray, even lobsters… but never did I ever see a shark. Praise the lord!
Fast-forward a decade. I haven’t been scuba diving since. It’s hard to do that kind of thing (any kind of thing?) with young children. However, in January of this year, my in-laws once again invited us on vacation. This time, to the Bahamas, which I learned is famous for their diving (lots of shipwrecks… NO THANKS!).
My in-laws offered to babysit so Josh and I could enjoy a date day. He desperately wanted to dive. I was open to a dive, but realized I’d need to do another resort course (read: many hours of classes in and out of the pool), then spend another six hours on the actual dive. That sounded like work, not vacation.
We compromised on SNUBA.
It’s a scuba/snorkeling hybrid, where you have a regulator (the breathing thing) that’s attached to a tube connected to oxygen tanks resting in a dinghy above you. You can only go 25 feet deep (A-OK with me!). but it’s similar to scuba and requires zero classes. Our hotel concierge signed us up for a half-day trip, which meant we’d still have time to go out for a nice dinner.
On the big day, we took a shuttle to Stuart Cove, the largest dive operator in Nassau. En route, the diver handed us three waivers, which I read rigorously. (No I didn’t.) I noticed one waiver focused exclusively on sharks. Well, I thought, sharks live in the ocean, so I’m sure they just need to cover their bases. I signed and dated the forms.
We boarded the boat with a handful of others, sitting next to a big family from Connecticut in town for a wedding. The sun shining, boat gently rocking, no small kids to worry about… a perfect day.
And then the boat stopped for our first dive. One of our guides whistled aggressively and we all turned toward the stern (that’s the back, right?). He held a rope attached to a large plastic tube and launched it into the water. Moments later, dozens of sharks swarmed the boat.
Excuse me, kind sir. It seems you’re luring the sharks here on purpose.
As he let out a long rope, he explained we’d spent a few minutes snorkeling here. Be sure to hold on to the rope, the he said. We wouldn’t want you to float away.
I stood with my arms crossed, with a purposeful resting bitch face. Did you know this was happening? I asked Josh, who’d handled all the details.
No clue, he said.
One of the guys from the Connecticut family laughed. Yeah, this is a snorkeling with sharks excursion!
WTF! I thought we were SNUBA diving!
Connecticut’s seven-year-old (7!!!!) daughter squealed, I’m so excited!, and jumped in the water. Okay, Bella, you little badass!
I watched as folks I thought were normal people and not absolute adrenaline junkies jumped into water filled with black-tipped reef sharks.
And then I checked in with myself and realized… I had no strong feelings about swimming with the sharks. Nothing, nada, zilch. I adjusted my mask, put the snorkel in my mouth and followed Josh into the water.
Hanging onto the rope for dear life, I placed my mask into the ocean and watched as 20 or sharks fed from that plastic tube (which was stuffed with dead fish) ten feet below.
One of the guides dove down to snap a few photos with a GoPro the Connecticut people along because duh they knew they’d be swimming with sharks. I felt calm as can be, except toward the end when I realized I had no idea what was going on in the water behind me. Oh well, can’t turn around without letting go of the rope. Jesus take the wheel!
We returned to the boat, all limbs accounted for. At the next spot, Josh, a guide and I (the boat’s only snuba divers), spent 25 minutes lazily swimming along the ocean floor, looking at fish, lobsters, coral, and a large lion fish. Not a single shark.
Apparently, they only offered snuba at one of the three dive spots (clearly we’re not fine print readers). I skipped the last snorkeling stop, opting to read a book on the boat instead. How could I possibly top the shark experience! Plus: scuba and snuba might seem more intense than snorkeling, but they’re not. You aren’t getting tossed around by waves, choking on the water in your snorkel. and you can actually see stuff up close. Seriously, try it!
Later, we showed the kids this video of the sharks their totally brave, amazing, cool parents swam with.
Was it scary, Mommy? my daughter asked.
Over the past eight years, I’ve worried about how a baby would exit my uterus. I’ve worried about SIDS. I’ve worried about tongue ties, breastfeeding, measles exposure, 105-degree fevers, dry drownings, regular drownings, potential car accidents, and whether or not we installed our car seats correctly. I’ve worried about carjackers, kidnappers, pedophiles, and school shooters. I’ve worried about the effects social media, screen time, depression, cyber bullying, and teen suicide statistics. I’ve worried that one day, they might get roofied at a bar or a party, or that they just might drink too much and something happens that changes their lives forever. I could write this paragraph for the rest of my life and never run out of things.
Sharks are nothing compared to parenthood.
No, honey, I said. Not even a little.
That last paragraph is SO SPOT ON! I used to have a necklace printed with the word "FEARLESS". I loved it. It defined how I lived in my 20s. Opportunity calls? Challenge accepted! When my first baby was five months old, he ripped that chain off my neck. It was the absolute perfect metaphor for how life changes. I am terrified of all of those things you listed. Of losing my beautiful loves to something big, moderate, or trivial. My poor mom must be glad to see me settle down a bit. I threw the necklace away and never looked back. My journey is living for others now, and they're worth every little worry.
So so true!