Balance. Guest blogger Ellen Stumbo worried for months that her daughter with special needs would lose her balance and fall down the stairs. But when her daughter Nina did fall, the experience revealed her daughter’s beauty and courage and restored Ellen’s spiritual balance.

Balance and Beauty in Special Needs Parenting

Nina climbed up the stairs, excited to show us the doll she found in the toy bin. It’s fun to find old forgotten toys—they feel like new all over again. She made it to the top with the doll in her hands. While her daddy and I worked in the kitchen, she talked about her new-found treasure.

Suddenly, she lost her balance. She was out of our sight, but we heard the doll drop, followed by a loud gasp and the unmistakable thumps of a body tumbling down a full flight of stairs.

“Nina!” My husband flew down the stairs, unable to stop her from falling.

I felt fear squeeze my heart and wring it out like a wet rag. I cried at the top of the stairs and yelled, “Is she okay? Is she okay? Is she okay?”

Andy checked her to make sure there was no major damage. Thankfully, she was crying—that was a good sign. He picked her up and she wrapped her arms around her daddy’s neck while I climbed up and down the stairs incessantly, torn between taking her from his arms or starting the car so we could take her to the emergency room.

Andy came up the stairs with Nina in his arms.

“I think she’s okay.”

“Did she hit her head? Sweetheart, did you hit your head?”

“No,” Nina cried. Then she extended her arm, “My hand.”

“She has some scratches on her back too,” Andy said.

“Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“I don’t think so.”

I grabbed her from his arms and carried her into the living room. I sat with her and held her as close to me as I could, and I started sobbing into her hair.

There are perhaps some irrational fears I have as a mother, but one of them is that my kids will fall down the stairs. Every time they go down, I remind them to be careful. I guess having two kids with some physical challenges contributes to this fear. It doesn’t help that I know how serious or permanently damaging an accident like this can be.

And as I sit there on the couch crying, my daughter’s physical brokenness breaks me. Today is a day I wish I could wrap up cerebral palsy like a Christmas present and send it far, far away from us, far away from her.

It breaks me to face the limitations she lives with because of her challenged mobility. It breaks me that she falls so often, and that it is such a normal part of her life. It shouldn’t be! She is a little girl. She should be playing and running and hopping around our house rather than having to work at balancing, wearing leg braces, and learning how to use forearm crutches.

And in moments like this it is hard to find beauty in the brokenness she lives with.

She lost her balance, like so many times before. Except this time she was at the top of the stairs. I cannot think of what could have happened, because I am thankful that she wasn’t really hurt. Sure she has some scratches and rug burns on her left shoulder, but that could have happened from any fall.
God protected her.

Two hours later there is no sign it even happened. She is moving her arm well, she has no pain, and she’s fighting with her sisters.

And that is where I find beauty. Because she’s willing to get up again and walk, even when she knows she will fall down again—even though I know her confidence deflated after her tumble. I know she will be extra careful around the stairs. We all will.

I find so much beauty in her courage. She is beautiful.

Where Do You Find Beauty and Balance?

Where do you see beauty and find balance in your special needs parenting journey? Leave a comment.

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