We’ve been going to this swim class since Jaylen was six months old, and he’s now 20 months. I’ll refrain from naming the swim facility or instructors, but after today, I do want to share my recent experience.
We had a few makeup sessions available, so the staff offered us an hour-long session instead of the usual 30 minutes—split between two different instructors. Two weeks ago, I decided to give it a try.
The first half was with an instructor we hadn’t worked with before. She seemed nice and friendly, but I was caught off guard that she didn’t know the songs and had to continuously check the class agenda.
Most classes have more than one mommy-and-baby pair so the little ones can learn from each other, but that day, we were the only ones. During each lesson, there’s a section called “eyes in,” where we dip our babies’ heads under water—like little fish.
Before starting swim lessons, I did my research and learned that babies should only be dunked horizontally, which is how we’ve always done it. The mom does this a few times each lesson, and then the instructor takes a turn.
It’s natural for moms—especially new moms—to feel nervous when someone else handles their baby. I trusted her process at first—I figured she knew what she was doing. But when it didn’t sit right with me, I realized I needed to trust my own instincts too.
I later learned I had every reason to be nervous. This particular instructor dunked Jaylen vertically, which is not safe for babies. When she pulled him out of the water, he panicked in a way I had never seen before. It looked like he was struggling to catch his breath for a long moment. My heart dropped, but I tried to stay calm.
During the next half-hour session with our usual instructor, I brought up my concern. She said she’d talk to the staff and mentioned that the other instructor didn’t have much experience with baby swim lessons. I left feeling uneasy that day—but not as much as I did today.
I’m sharing this today for new moms and moms-to-be who, like me, are usually quiet—often avoiding confrontation or worrying about making others feel bad.
As a new mom, I’m learning how important it is to speak up and advocate, even if it makes someone uncomfortable or defensive.
If I don’t speak up for Jaylen, who will?
I wish I had said more to that instructor in the moment—something beyond just “Is he okay?”—but this is a work in progress for me. I’m learning, healing, and growing right alongside my baby. And through it all, I’m reminded that a mother knows her baby better than anyone else.
Motherhood has a way of challenging our fears and pushing us to find our voices.
So to the soft-spoken moms and moms-to-be out there: be prepared for the courage that will soon rise up within you. It’s one of the most beautiful gifts motherhood gives us.
This moment reminded me that healing isn’t always quiet—it sometimes shows up as shaky words spoken through tears.
Whether you’re preparing for your wedding day, building a business, or learning to speak up as a mom, growth takes courage.
Healing and learning to use our voices—especially when it’s uncomfortable—is part of becoming the confident women we’re meant to be.
I’d love to hear your thoughts—message me on IG.
After class, I called my husband. My voice cracked as I tried not to cry while explaining how bad the class went. He’s never been a big fan of swim class because he feels the babies end up drinking too much water.
He was in the middle of work, but said maybe Jaylen is becoming more opinionated and trying to show he doesn’t enjoy it anymore. He could be right—but I can’t help wondering if he’s still affected by what happened a couple weeks ago.
I’m hoping he’s not traumatized. We’ll see how it goes next week.
"a mother knows her baby better than anyone else."
Not sure if PMS is heavily affecting me today or if I’m just feeling inspired after reading Nicole Wilhelm's new book Own Your Space, but I felt the need to share what’s on my heart.
Jaylen and I just got back from our mommy-and-baby swim lesson, which we usually attend every Wednesday—unless we’re sick or something else comes up. Today was our first day back after two weeks, and the way he acted completely caught me off guard and had me driving home teary-eyed.
Today, Jaylen cried through most of the class—which has never happened before. Up until now, he was the only baby who never cried in our sessions. And when I say cry, I mean a full, hysterical cry—not his usual fuss. The other moms were even surprised and asked if he was okay.
Our instructor asked if we’d switched routines, which we hadn’t. I followed her directions and tried to go through the motions, but my heart broke forcing Jaylen to do the exercises while he cried his lungs out.
At the end of class, I asked if she had spoken to the staff yet. She said yes, and suggested I also reach out to the office. At first, I thought I’d wait until next week—but as I was changing Jaylen, something told me to handle it right away.
After we got dressed, I walked over to the office on our way out. I knocked, and instead of being invited in like usual, a staff member opened the door and spoke with me at the doorway. So there I was—standing in the open, voicing my concerns. Normally, I feel uncomfortable in situations like this, but somehow it felt even more uncomfortable not saying anything.
They mentioned that our instructor had already told them about it and assured me the issue would be addressed.
Welcome to my very first blog post for Bride To Be by Tanya!
This space is something I’ve been wanting to create for a while — a place to share real stories, reflections, and lessons from my journey as a wife, mom, and woman in business. I’ll be writing about healing, growth, faith, family, and everything in between — the parts of life that shape us long before and long after the wedding day.
As women—especially brides-to-be and new moms—we move through seasons of deep growth. We’re constantly learning, unlearning, and discovering our voices in new ways.
This post isn’t about weddings or business—it’s about healing, motherhood, and the quiet power of speaking up, even when it’s uncomfortable.