Camp Mystic :: Every Camp Parent & Caregiver’s Nightmare
I am the mother of two boys who have attended sleep-away camp in Arkansas for the last five years. I also have the unique privilege of being a camp nurse there. I didn’t go to sleep-away camp as a kid. It wasn’t something that was done much in my circle of friends growing up, so when my boys started going, I had no idea what to expect. It wound up being the most amazing experience, and I vowed that we would provide them the sleep-away camp experience every summer thereafter (and who am I kidding? It’s fun for me, too, an experience I look forward to each summer).
I am pregnant with my third baby this summer, way too pregnant to attend camp. I was so disappointed to miss but sent my boys to camp eight hours away for two weeks without me. It was the longest we’ve ever been separated. As a seasoned camper mom and camp nurse, I knew exactly what to expect, knew the staff, knew my boys were in caring, capable hands. Of course, I had the typical worries as I hugged them and shipped them off: What if they got homesick? Would my little one be comfortable enough to seek medical attention if he got a staph infection again? Would my oldest remember to hang up his wet bathing suit so that it didn’t come home stinking up his trunk? And could I make it two weeks without even speaking to my children (only post cards allowed; no phone calls)? The first two nights were hard, but the photos of my kids having a blast started flooding my inbox, and suddenly my worries felt silly and unnecessary. My boys had a wonderful time and returned home to me with a few bug bites and in need of a good shower. But, thank God, my boys returned home to me. As they always do. As they should.
It never occurred to me that they might not come home. You send the kids to sleep-away camp, they have so much fun they barely remember you, and then they come back with the stinky laundry and friendship bracelets and maybe a heat rash and some cuts and scrapes from hiking. They come back. As they always do. As they should.
It took my brain some time to process the gravity of the Camp Mystic tragedy. As a parent, it’s unfathomable. I’ve cried and cried and cried. And then add the layer of being a camp nurse, and I am just absolutely crushed. As any sleep-away camp staff will tell you, it’s not just a summer job. We get to know these kids. Part of my job at camp is to distribute medications. Every breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I man my station outside of the chow hall and make sure kids get their meds. Not that it’s difficult, but there’s more to it than you might imagine.
I see these same little faces multiple times a day for two weeks. I get to know where they’re from and who their friends are. I know who is competing for camp awards. I know who signed up to make duct tape art at the craft shed, and I promise to stop by during activities to see their projects. I know who isn’t looking forward to today’s lunch and remind them to get in line for the baked potato option instead. And I’m not special. Any of us who work camp know these things because we know that their parents have entrusted us with their most precious gifts, and for two weeks we fill in all the gaps for Mom and Dad. As we always do. As we should.
I know that camp staff at any camp would agree with me. I am certain the Camp Mystic staff would. I am certain that in the midst of what must have been utterly terrifying, they worked tirelessly, selflessly to do anything they could do to get those sweet babies to safety. I can’t imagine the sights and sounds and smells that are forever part of their memories. I can’t imagine knowing that some of those camp babies will never attend camp again, that camp history will forever be broken into two parts: camp before the flood and camp after the flood. Camp is sacred. Something like this should be off limits. It’s simply not supposed to be this way.
As the flood waters recede and search efforts reveal the still missing, the tears will only flow more. As a camper mom, as a camp nurse, as a girl from New Orleans who knows a lot about flooding and tragedy, my heart breaks for the victims and survivors. I’ll continue storming Heaven with all the prayers and loving on my babies fiercely. As I should always do.
