Zobey's Story

After falling into a pool, 10-month-old Zobey struggles for life by Christine Barker

You never think that when you hear terrible stories of accidents with children it could be your story. It can happen to anyone. Even those who take every precaution to prevent it. Here is our story.

Saturday night, my husband, Chris was let go from his job. We decided to go away for a couple days to clear our heads and think. We packed up a few things and took our 2 1/2 year old, Hollis and 10 month old, Zobey to Chris' parents house in north Florida. We were on a spontaneous adventure. Fun in the sun. Relaxation. Chris' parents are snowbirds and gave the kids keys to vacation while they went up north. We played in the pool and went fishing in the lake. A great getaway from our everyday routine. We were ready to go back home and start our lives again with a new outlook on life.

May 19, 1999
On Wednesday morning, we were packing to go. The kids were watching television. Our 10 month old was in the walker, watching and eating Cheerios. We were in and out of the room continuously, cleaning and packing. All in a matter of a minute our dear daughter, Zobey, was not in front of the TV after having just left the room. I immediately ran out to the pool and did not see her. Chris saw something and jumped in. It was her.

Zobey managed to scoot in her walker through the room over a throw rug out the sliding glass doors and down a step onto the patio and into the pool. She had fallen in the shallow end in her walker. It was the one time during our stay that the sliding glass door had not been closed and locked.

He pulled her out. She was blue and puffy, limp and flopping as he turned her over, like a doll. I screamed thinking this is not happening. How did this happen? The worst feeling that you could ever experience. Empty. Chris got the water out of her by patting her back and giving her the first breath that she needed. We had both learned CPR and first aid. Hollis was against the house crying and screaming, not understanding what was happening. I screamed as loud as I could for someone to help. She was just there a minute ago, playing and laughing, eating Cheerios.

I called 911. They asked for the address. I only knew the street name. We did not live in the house. Chris said she was breathing, but she was so lifeless. She did not open her eyes. She was not moving. Her color was not normal. There were neighbors everywhere helping. Luckily a nurse was amongst the crowd. She took our baby while on the phone with 911. She took her pulse. Emergency vehicles arrived. My dear baby's eyes were rolled up and they would not open. She was limp but moaning a low tone groan over and over. I begged her not to leave me. "Please stay, baby please don't leave me."

I carried her to the front yard where the emergency vehicles lined up. I ripped her cold, wet pink dress down the front and took off her diaper. They searched her tiny wrists and ankles for a vein. They took her vitals and put a mask over her nose and mouth so that she would breath. Her naked body was so peaceful. I talked to her constantly telling her to open her eyes. The sunshine glistened on her wet golden hair.

The ambulance arrived. Dave the paramedic helped us into the ambulance. I watched Chris and Hollis' faces as they closed the doors. We were going to a trauma center. It seemed like forever and my baby was not coming to. We prayed. I prayed to every god I could think of and tried to pass on my energies to Zobey. "Please stay Zobey." I cried.

Dave told me there would probably be news people and cameras as we arrived. He said not to look at them, just go right to the door, "stay near me." He covered her naked body with a cloth as we ran to the emergency room and carried the green oxygen tank on his arm. A crew was waiting with all sorts of machines and a bed. Her tiny body took up such a small part of the bed. She was crying. This was good. But her eyes would not open. A warm blanket was placed over her lower half. The mask still on her face, I.V. in her arm and all sorts of buttons and monitors on her belly.

I remembered to be calm so that I would not be made to leave. I tried to be strong. They were all talking and using medical terms, asking me questions, her birth history, weight and height. I knew her weight as of days before but not her height. They measured her. This was important to know accurately so that they could give her the proper dosage of medicine. A policewoman was there to calm me and talk to me trying to distract me from the commotion. I was taken from Zobey's side but would not go where I could not see her. I felt I needed to be able to see some part of her to transfer all my energy to her.

I was taken to a private room. There was a pastor and my victim's advocate from the police department. My breasts were ready to feed her. I felt lost and drained. Like I was trapped in a nightmare. Where was Chris? Someone had a lactation consultant come. She was talking about pumping and storage and stuff, like it would be a long time until I would be able to nurse her. A nurse came to the room and said they were waiting for a helicopter to fly her to Children's and Women's Hospital in Orlando. They have specialized care for infants in her condition. "Condition?" What did that mean? Was she all right? I wanted to see her.

I was permitted to go see her. It was very cold. I was barefoot and not fully dressed. She had a breathing tube in her mouth. She was still, like she was sleeping peacefully. Like an angel. I passed out.

Chris and Hollis arrived. A nurse talked to us about needing things while we were at the hospital. More clothes, warm clothes, breast milk storage bottles and a familiar toy for Zobey. We would have to go to the store before driving to Orlando. We got directions. It would take an hour or so to get there. We were given boxed meals to take with us. As we got outside, the helicopter was ready to take off. She was on her way. She would be there in 14 minutes.

We went to the house and gathered more things. Zobey's dolly girl that played "You are my sunshine." As we were ready to leave, a news truck was in the street and a woman was talking to a neighbor.

We arrived. Parked in front. We went to the desk. "Room 3042 in specialized ICU." The unit had closed double doors. Hollis could not go in. I went while Chris stayed with him. She was the same. Asleep with all sorts of attachments. No breathing tube. She was breathing on her own. We were waiting for her to awaken. The doctor said she was very tired and still had the sedative that should wear off soon. I sang to her and talked to her. The lines on the monitor changed and she turned her head to me and tried to open her eyes. My baby was going to be all right. Now, would she have brain damage? The doctor said he could not yet say but because of everyone's quick reacting and knowing what to do right away, she looked good. I went out to Chris so he could come in and Hollis and I went to make phone calls. I called family to tell them the situation.

We checked into the Hubbard House, a house for family who live far away to stay at while loved ones were in the hospital. It was across the street from the hospital. Dinner was being served. I could not eat. A child Zobey's age was making her noises. "Num-num na-na-na." I cried again. I needed to see her now. I left and ran to the hospital. I pushed the button to the second floor. As the elevator door opened to her floor I heard a baby crying. "That's my baby!" I yelled as I ran following her cries. I came to a circle and could not determine from which side the cry was loudest. I chose a side and saw them wheeling her caged crib into a room. She was transferred out of ICU. I said "Pookies! My baby!" She turned to me crying and her expression relaxed as she saw my face. I started to undo my blouse and her mouth was going and she was reaching for me. I pulled her to me being careful of all the cords attached to her belly, and her finger and I.V. to her arm. My sweet baby girl was going to be fine. I knew this as she gazed at me while she nursed. We were both relieved. Her warm skin felt so soft against me.

The first night was difficult. I climbed into her crib to nurse and hold her. Every time I closed my eyes to sleep I replayed the event. She didn't like the cords. The monitors registered her in perfect health. Every time she turned the cords wrapped around her. I spent the night touching her and being thankful that she pulled through. The next morning she was standing and trying to climb up the sides of the crib. She babbled and laughed. I noticed a new tooth. My sweet little girl. She is perfect.

We were discharged Thursday around noon. Zobey was disconnected from all the wires. I bathed her. She still smelled like hospital but that was OK. I carried her down the hall, passing faces of mothers. We exchanged looks of sadness and relief and hope. There was a mutual understanding exchanged. We went outside. Zobey was excited to be outdoors again. Three butterflies fluttered in front of us as we walked down the sidewalk. Zobey followed one with her eyes. Angels.

A baby gate will be installed before the house is used again. Our children will be learning a technique called Infant Swimming Research. This teaches them to roll on their backs and float if they fall in the water. As for the baby walker, I cut the seat and watched the garbage truck crush it and take it away. Whining isn't as annoying anymore. Every noise is a blessing. And I am not bothered if one of them wants me to hold them all day even if there is work to be done.

We take life differently now. Zobey is now 14 months and exhibits no damage from the accident. Priorities have changed. Some things are more important than others. Safety is always on our mind. Family is where we focus our energy. We learned from the experience and aged a few years. Life goes on.

Christine Barker
Clinton, Connecticut
USA