When my daughter Zoe’s riding instructor calls unexpectedly on a Tuesday morning, I brace myself for bad news. Instructor Sarah usually sends a quick text, but this call is different.
“Zoe had an accident. She fell off the horse,” she starts. “Her arm is broken.”
Inside, I feel my heart drop. Summer vacation had just started, and we had limited funds for any fun activities. My husband and I had decided that our 8-year-old should have a memorable summer, so we enrolled her in a week-long pony camp at the stables where she had been riding consistently for the past ten months. We were hopeful that she’d enjoy five days filled with ponies and friends, but clearly, we were mistaken.
As I navigate the winding roads toward the stables, where Zoe is waiting, I replay our carefree conversation from just two hours earlier. Zoe and her friend Ella were in the backseat, filled with excitement about their day with the ponies. The windows were down, and the girls laughed, their arms outstretched to catch the breeze.
“Keep your arms in,” I had cautioned them, attempting to be both a parent and a friend. “If your arm hits a branch, it could break. Imagine having a broken arm at the start of summer vacation—you wouldn’t be able to ride or swim!”
Did I truly say that?
As I approach the stables, I spot a cluster of girls near the barn. They quickly direct me to the house across the driveway, where I find Zoe lying on the couch, an ice pack wrapped in a towel resting against her injured arm, while another camper’s mother tends to her.
“My arm hurts,” Zoe whispers upon seeing me.
Later, when asked if she realized immediately that her arm was broken, she responds with a firm yes. “It looked like I had two elbows,” she explains.
The next several hours are a whirlwind of pain, waiting, and disbelief. During the registration process at the hospital, a woman with perfectly manicured nails suggests I should bring Zoe’s social security card next time to make accessing her records easier. Zoe only sheds tears when she learns that she needs an IV for the medication required to sedate her for casting. I silently break down when I hear they will need to fully break one of her fractured bones to set it properly, avoiding surgery. That’s when I step out of the room.
Zoe has always favored stuffed animals over dolls; as she matures, her love for live animals grows stronger. When she first began riding, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. Her pony camp the previous summer had been uneventful, and the lessons over the next year remained mostly incident-free. I looked for signs of distress but found none among the other moms, who often glanced up from their phones during lessons. One mother shared that she had learned to ride as an adult but stopped after a horse threw her off. “Horses can sense fear,” she said. “It’s better to learn when you’re young and fearless.”
Riding offers so many benefits: outdoor time, exercise, responsibility, and focus. I appreciate that Zoe has an activity beyond school. I envision her in the coming years, finding solace in the stable as she brushes her horse, escaping the pressures of friendships and social life. So, I choose to overlook the risks. I push thoughts of tragic accidents and injuries out of my mind, even when an unfortunate fall occurs during one of Zoe’s competitions. I avert my gaze, hoping that ignoring the danger will make it disappear.
But injuries are part of the sport. Just a week and a half after winning a ribbon at her first horse show, Zoe loses her balance during a canter at pony camp and falls, fracturing her forearm in two places.
Thank goodness, my girl is resilient.
That summer, when people see Zoe’s purple cast, their first question is, “What happened?” The second is, “Will you ride again?” Her orthopedic doctor answers for her, confidently stating, “In my experience, young riders can’t wait to get back in the saddle.”
Zoe agrees, saying she will ride again, but I begin to question whether that’s wise. Conventional wisdom suggests she face her fears and “get back on the horse.” As her mother and advocate, I feel pressured to encourage her to embrace this notion of bravery. I am the one who insists she dress warmly in cold weather, eat healthy foods, and get enough sleep. Now, I must pivot and encourage her to take risks again. Why should she get back on that horse?
Eventually, the day of her next lesson arrives. Zoe’s cast has been off for four weeks, replaced by a flexible splint that she’ll need for six months due to the increased risk of refracture. I wear sunglasses to hide my anxiety as I watch her canter again, filled with both dread and hope. Erin gives her the go-ahead, and Zoe taps her pony, guiding it forward with confidence. I feel a wave of joy wash over me as she rides, leaving behind the disappointment of the summer.
Afterward, we go out for pizza to celebrate, but the worry creeps back in: What if she falls again?
That morning, I received an email from Zoe’s second-grade teacher, who shares her own experiences with the risks of riding. She empathizes, mentioning her daughter’s recent injuries from an accident. She reflects on her own experience raising kittens and how, despite wanting to protect them, overprotection can lead to more danger. “We can’t shelter our children from pain,” she writes, reminding me that sometimes our protective instincts can inadvertently harm them. I save that email for future reassurance.
Zoe doesn’t fall during her next lesson, but she decides she wants to take a break from riding to join a new Girls on the Run group at school. I have mixed feelings—relief and concern. I email Erin, who assures me that Zoe is welcome to return whenever she’s ready. I also keep that email.
In the end, while we cannot always shield our children from pain, we can guide them through their experiences, allowing them to grow stronger and more resilient.
For those navigating similar paths of parenthood, consider exploring helpful resources such as Mount Sinai’s infertility guide or focusing on self-insemination techniques. Additionally, if you’re looking to boost your fertility, check out this post on supplements.
Summary:
This article discusses the challenges and fears of parenting, particularly when it comes to allowing children to face risks. The author recounts her daughter Zoe’s accident while riding, her healing process, and the dilemmas of encouraging resilience in the face of fear. Ultimately, it emphasizes the importance of letting children experience pain to foster growth and strength, while acknowledging the balance between protection and independence.