We often believe it is our job as parents to shield our children from the world’s hardships. But what happens when our protection becomes their prison? I learned this lesson from my ten-year-old son, who was born without his legs. For years, I was his chief protector, crafting a world of rules and excuses I thought would keep him safe from pain and judgment. Then, one day at the beach, he showed me what true safety looks like. He discarded his prosthetic legs and launched himself into the ocean, swimming with a joyful freedom that stunned everyone watching.
That single act was a rebellion against the limitations I—and the world—had placed on him. It was also an invitation for me to let go. When a swim coach saw his potential and offered to train him, my old fears screamed to say no. But my son’s eyes, alight with possibility, insisted we say yes. His journey into competitive swimming was a masterclass in resilience for us both. He faced grueling practices and the harsh opinions of those who thought his difference was an advantage. Yet, he continued to swim, not just with muscle, but with heart.
He went on to win a national title, but his greatest victory was in teaching me to reframe my fears. I learned that the most loving thing I could do was not to stand in front of him, but to stand behind him, cheering him on as he claimed his own space in the world. His story is a powerful reminder that our children are not here to live our fears, but to conquer their own challenges. Freedom isn’t about having a perfect body; it’s about having a fearless spirit.
