HERE COMES THE SUN. And I say, it's alright.

Spring is here. And that means water safety season is here. And I won’t lie, along with the joy of Spring, also comes the familiar cloud of anxiety that looms low over my days, and the persistent knot in the pit of my stomach that lingers until, at last, winter mercifully comes back around.

I was never a cold weather girl before. I am now.

Most every day through the warm weather season, my inbox overflows with story after story of preventable death in open water. My broken heart breaks over and over again every year.

And I am left, once again, feeling like I’m just not doing enough. Like this problem will never end. I am left facing the awful reality that a new host of moms will now be forced to face the same reality I face every day. The reality of outliving their child.

We lost him at 15. He would be 24 next month. April is coming. How many mothers this year?

I sit working on my latest water safety presentation — which neatly packages the worst day of my life and translates it into a drowning prevention message — in hopes that it will prevent another mom from having the worst day of her life. And I know it will not be enough. But it’s all I have. I do what I can with what I have — and with the never-ending hope of #NotOneMore. So with the sun, comes hope. And I say, that’s alright.

— Dana Gage, Connor’s Mom + Founder, The LV Project

Oh, Orlando

Today I came home, from Orlando… where I had traveled to receive an award I do not deserve. Awards embarrass me, especially since drowning remains such a prevalent problem in our country. And, you know? I’m in the drowning prevention business. With every story of a new drowning, it’s hard not to feel like I’m failing. Because, honestly, I AM failing. We all are.

But we are all trying – and trying hard. Unbeknownst to me, the kind, beautiful, people from my hometown nominated me for a national water safety award, and the association which has offered this award for the past several years was generous enough to recognize me as the recipient. I was truly touched. And honored.

Today, for a brief moment, the trying mattered.

But oh, Orlando. Orlando. Or.lan.do. Disney World. The Magic Kingdom. The last time I was here was circa 2004-ish, when my boys were very young. I had taken the family with me on a work trip, as business travelers so often do. I can see Connor and Riley spinning in the teacup, heads thrown back, laughing hysterically. I can see the red popsicle juice dripping down Connor’s chin. I can see the boys stare wide-eyed in wonder not just at the incredible sights of Disney, but the simple things, too… like the airport tram which would take us from the gate to baggage claim. It was all a wonder then. Such a wonder. So magical. And today… I was back. Back in Orlando.

I wept silently in the back seat as my driver crossed the entry into Disney World where we stopped and got our family picture all those years ago. I was crossing into the magic kingdom again, but this time, for a much different reason. And this time, without the magic. And the irony. Oh the irony. On that visit all those years ago, we stayed at a resort with one of those huge pools that had a long winding slide which the boys went down like – oh – one million times. I can still see them sliding down that slide, over and over, with their ear-to-ear smiles. At one point, as I stood watching them, Connor did the familiar entry splash … but a few seconds later, something seemed wrong. Like he may (may?) be in trouble. He wasn’t splashing or yelling or playing. He was just sort of still. Lethargic almost. He was probably tired… exhausted really. And to me, it looked like he just didn’t have the energy to swim to the side this time. It happened in seconds. I watched his head gradually tilt back as he ever-so-slowly started sinking. Not all the way under, but too close for comfort for this momma. I immediately jumped in. Business suit, cell phone and all, and pulled my boy from the water. He insisted he was okay – and maybe he was. But all I know is, I was not interested in taking any chances. The whole thing lasted maybe 10 seconds tops, but I’ve never forgotten it.

Oh, Orlando. It all came back today.

And suddenly Connor is 15. At that lake. On that day. Where was I on August 31, 2012? Who would save him when he was in trouble on that day? Who would see him go under? Who would rescue him from the water?  Who would give him air when he could get none?

 Not me. Not anyone. Not ever.

Sometimes the grief triggers hit with a light thump. And sometimes with blunt force. It’s a blunt force day.  I’m his mother. And I couldn’t save him. And now, I find the only magic I want is the kind that will stop these remarkably preventable deaths from happening and end this heartbreak forever. In the meantime, I’ll keep working — arm in arm with so many other heartbroken parents — to create that magic wand. Then, and only then, will I truly win. We all will. 

— Dana Gage, Connor’s Mom + Founder, The LV Project

It’s An Awfully Wonderful Awful Thing →

I suppose it would be thrilling for anyone to be quoted in a nationally recognized and highly read media source. And for me, today’s the day. Because there, in crystal clear black and white, in the July 22 edition of The New York Times are the words, “said Dana Gage.”

I feel no thrill.

But I do feel hope.

When Dr. Ben Hoffman from the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) referred me to Dr. Perri Klass, a respected pediatrician, NYU professor and weekly columnist on children’s health for the Times, I wasn’t sure it would lead to much. Most national drowning coverage focuses on pool drownings — and justifiably so — as drowning is the #1 cause of accidental death for children ages 1 to 4. Not all, but sadly most, of those drownings happen in pools. So there is, understandably, a great deal of attention on how to protect our littles around pool settings.

Enter Nicole Hughes, a remarkable woman from Tennessee who knows this pain all too well. Nicole lost her 3-year-old son Levi just last year (2018) to a pool drowning during a family vacation with friends. Nicole has worked tirelessly with national media and the AAP to reshape how drowning prevention and water safety measures get communicated to moms of littles. (We need to know what we don’t know.) But Nicole didn’t stop there. Somehow she had the ability to see beyond her own broken heart to mine — and those like mine. As a former middle school teacher, Nicole has a heart for teens, and she sees clearly that water is water, danger is danger, and water safety doesn’t end once a child learns how to swim. She, with the help of Dr Hoffman, connected me with Dr Klass. Nicole’s kindness, tenacity and endless well of empathy are changing hearts and minds about what it means to be safe in water. All water.

During the Times interview, I shared both my story and my seven years of learning / research on open water drownings with Dr Klass. I shared that few people understand that drowning is the second leading cause of accidental death for teens 15 to 19 (most of those in natural water). I shared that Connor was an excellent swimmer, a talented athlete, an experienced lake kid… yet he died in open water. I shared that few parents know that drowning rates triple at age 15 in natural water. I shared that while we talk of many layers of protection in pools, somehow the need for those layers mysteriously vanishes as those littles become bigs who go to the lake. As adults, we think they’re safe. And when something goes wrong, we conveniently blame the victim’s “risky behavior.” We couldn’t be more wrong. As adults in charge, our water safety job does not end because a teenager knows how to swim. Those layers of protection are equally important in open water. And just like a seat belt’s protection in a car accident, our greatest defense on the lake is a life vest.

Had Connor been required to wear one, he’d be alive. And this website would not even exist.

Littles or bigs, toddlers or teens, water is water. It’s our job to protect them.

The “awfully wonderful” part is that we’re starting a dialogue about teens in open water, one we hope will save lives. But the just plain “awful” are the words that follow… “said Dana Gage, whose 15-year-old son, Connor, drowned in a Texas lake in 2012.” This is not how it’s supposed to go. These are not the words I want to read. And more importantly, they’re not the words I want any parent to ever read. So, the awfully wonderful awful work continues.

We LoVe our littles. We LoVe our bigs. Let’s protect them both. Water safety is lifelong. All water. All ages. Always.

— Dana Gage, Connor’s Mom + Founder, The LV Project