Mom Libby stands waist-deep in the warm pool, sunlight dancing on the water’s ripples. Her baby, cheeks round and eyes wide with wonder, clings to her shoulder at first — unsure of this big, wobbly blue world. Libby whispers soft encouragements, brushing a wet curl from her baby’s forehead.
“Ready, sweetheart?” she asks, voice gentle but excited. She eases the baby away from her chest, arms supporting the tiny belly just under the surface. The baby kicks reflexively, little legs splashing, sending droplets into the summer air. Libby laughs, her own splash of joy blending with the tiny squeals that follow.
She lets the baby feel the water’s freedom — one hand always there, a steady island in a brand-new ocean. She coaxes tiny arms to reach, tiny feet to push. They make a game of it: a little paddle here, a floating toy there. Libby’s voice is calm, singing lullabies mixed with praise.
Every small splash feels like magic. Sometimes the baby gets nervous, face scrunching up at a sudden wave. Libby pulls her close again, warm skin on warm skin, murmuring, “It’s okay, Mama’s got you.” Slowly, trust grows like ripples spreading outward.
She shows the baby how to blow bubbles, dipping her lips under first. The baby watches, wide-eyed, then tries, lips parting in a surprised giggle when a tiny splash tickles her chin.
Minutes pass like gentle waves. Soon, the baby relaxes, floating with Libby’s hands beneath, safe yet free to feel the water’s cool hug. Libby beams at every kick, every brave reach for the bright pool toy drifting just out of grasp.
In these moments, Mom Libby isn’t just teaching swimming. She’s teaching courage — that the water can carry you far, but Mama’s hands will always be there when you need to rest.
