Never prouder of last place

Today was Anthony's first Swimming Gala.  Nearly 100 kids with Special Educational Needs (SEN) from nearly 20 schools took part in a borough wide inclusive swim competition.  Last night was Anthony's last swim lesson before his Gala and as his awesome swimming instructor couldn't get to the Gala it was me who was going to practice his race swim with him in the pool.

Yesterday Anthony had woken up with a terrible cold and I was a bit nervous that he might not make it to his lesson. By the time I'd got back from the school run, I was worried I wouldn't make it. I pretty much went straight to bed after I realised my headache was a migraine. I was very fortunate that Jane was at nursery so was able to go straight to bed.  I was just about able to function with the aid of a pile of painkillers for the afternoon school run. 

As I collected Anthony, I saw his cold was much better and he was all set for his last swim lesson before the Gala. Despite still feeling rotten, I wasn't going to let him down, so donned a swimsuit and headed to the pool. 

I still had the after effects of my migraine.  The lights in the pool pierced my eyes, the sounds echoed around my head and the chlorine made me feel a bit (more) sick. The pool was freezing cold, or at least that's how it felt and I was desperate not to get any water in my ears in case it hurt. I wanted everything to go smoothly and like normal please - nothing too complicated. 

But this was all about preparing Anthony. He had worn his swim team track suit to the lesson and we got undressed at the poolside just like he would need to do today.  And then after a short lesson, he and I went up and down the pool as Anthony practiced his race.  When he was happy and tired enough, we went home. 

If you've read, A lead pipe, a ball and a pair of feet, you'll know since Anthony has had lessons, his swimming has really come along. But he was very nervous about coming last in his race.  As he was going to be the youngest in his heat today this was entirely possible.

We have spent the last week talking about how racing is more about doing your best than winning. We have watched the 2012 Olympic backstroke finals several times and Anthony has watched some of the best swimmers in the world come last in their races on YouTube. He knew it was ok to come last but he was worried about it happening. 

Two pupils went with Anthony from his school.  He cheered them both brilliantly during their heats.  I was very proud of him when he took the effort to go and see one of his fellow pupils to congratulate them on winning their heat. He said he was very proud of them, and that made everyone smile. He got a kindness sticker when he got back to school for that. 

Anthony had waited three hours for his single length swim when we were finally called to get into the water. He had been grouped with boys who were older than he was, which happens at these events. Anthony is in Year 3, but the event allowed for up to Year 6. 

We both shivered as we got in. Anthony dunked his face in the water and then got into the 'take your marks' position.  The whistle sounded and he was off. 

For a short period he seemed to be travelling in a relatively straight line. 'Big arms and kick, kick, kick', I repeated over and over. He swam as best as I've ever seen. About half way down the length he traversed a bit but was still going ok. I glanced over and realised that indeed, Anthony would be last.  I winced ever so slightly but not enough to stop my persistent 'Big arms and kick kick kick' mantra that we had practiced to. As we past the five meter to go flags he said, "I'm nearly there" and a moment or so later he'd fumbled a bit and touched the end. 

I immediately gave him a massive grin and massive hug and told him he had been amazing. "Did I come last?" he asked. "Is that ok?" I asked. "Yes, because I really did my best mummy." 

Ok, hold it together I thought.  

As we got out the pool to the same round of cheers and congratulations that every single swimmer got, Anthony squinted as he took of his goggles. He was shivering and I grabbed his towel (I hardly noticed the cold, I was so hyped). I looked around and thought how amazing my son was. 

Yesterday I'd been a bit iffy when I went to the pool, but the things that bothered me are things Anthony as a child with ASD, ADHD and SPD overcomes every single time he goes swimming. The piercing bright lights, the cheers and echos, the cold water and strong smell of chlorine. 

He's not only learned to swim, he's learned to cope with all these sensory battles, learned to cheer and feel pride in the accomplishments of others and learned that doing his best is more important than winning.  

I could barely be prouder of my last place boy.  What was the last thing that made you realise your kid is just amazing?

Links
Our blog - A lead pipe, a ball and a pair of feet
Our blog - Autism and the misunderstandings of empathy

External Links
NAS - Sensory