When my daughter’s riding instructor, Cassie, calls me on a Tuesday morning, I brace myself for bad news. Cassie seldom picks up the phone, usually opting for a quick text.
“Mia had an accident. She fell off her horse,” she starts. “Her arm … it’s broken.”
Inside, I feel my heart sink. Just a week into summer vacation, our plans are limited by our tight budget. Nonetheless, my husband and I decided our 8-year-old should enjoy something memorable this summer. We enrolled her in a week-long pony camp at the stables where she had been riding for the past ten months. We thought it would be a week filled with fun and laughter, surrounded by ponies and friends. We were mistaken.
As I navigate the winding roads toward my sobbing daughter, I replay our cheerful conversation from just two hours earlier. Mia and her friend, Lily, were in the backseat, bubbling with excitement about their day with the ponies. The windows were down, and they giggled as they stretched their arms into the warm breeze.
“Arms inside,” I warned, part parent, part negotiator. “If your arm hits a branch, it could break. And wouldn’t it be terrible to have a broken arm at the start of summer vacation? You wouldn’t be able to ride or swim!” Did I really say that?
As I approach the stables, I spot a cluster of girls gathered near the barn. They quickly redirect me to the house across the driveway, where I find Mia lying on the couch, a towel-wrapped ice pack resting against her injured arm, another camper’s mother keeping watch.
“My arm hurts,” Mia whispers as she sees me.
Later, when asked if she realized right away that her arm was broken, she nods, explaining, “It looked like I had two elbows.”
The next several hours are a blur of pain, waiting, and disbelief—especially when a nurse with perfectly manicured nails informs me that I should bring Mia’s social security card for her records during our next ER visit. Mia only tears up when she learns she will need an IV to receive the sedative for casting her arm. I hold back my own tears when I hear that the doctors must break one of the fractured bones in her forearm to set it properly, avoiding surgery. For that, I choose to leave the room.
Mia has always favored cuddly stuffed animals over dolls, and as she grows, her love for real animals has blossomed. When she began riding, I was both excited and apprehensive. Her first pony camp the previous summer went off without a hitch, and her lessons over the past year were mostly incident-free. The other moms seemed relaxed, often distracted by their phones during lessons. One mentioned she had quit riding as an adult after being thrown off a horse.
“They can sense fear,” she said. “It’s better to learn when you’re younger and unafraid.”
Riding offers so many benefits: outdoor time, exercise, responsibility, and focus. I love that Mia has an interest outside of school. I envision her, in a few years, brushing a horse and letting go of the pressures of friends and social life. The stable seems like a sanctuary where she can connect with nature, finding solace in the physical challenge of riding.
So, I push the risks aside. I try to ignore thoughts of tragic accidents. I remember a recent news story of a fatal fall at an equestrian event and divert my gaze when a young girl falls during Mia’s first competition, instinctively calling for her mother. Even though the girl was fine, I don’t revisit the video my husband took of Mia’s performance because if I ignore the dangers, maybe they won’t exist.
But accidents happen. Just a week and a half after she earned a ribbon at her first horse show, Mia’s foot slips from the stirrup during a canter, and she tumbles off, fracturing her right forearm in two places.
Fortunately, my girl heals quickly. That summer, everyone who sees her purple cast asks the same two questions: “What happened?” and “Will you ride again?” Her pediatric orthopedist confidently reassures a colleague, “In my experience, young riders can’t wait to get back on.”
Mia replies enthusiastically, “Yes, I’ll ride again.” But I begin to ponder, should I encourage her?
The conventional wisdom suggests she face her fears and get back on the horse. As her mother and biggest supporter, I feel obligated to bolster her courage. Here I am, the same parent who insists she wear a coat in cold weather, eat her veggies, and get enough sleep, now expected to go against my instincts and push her back into a risky situation. Why should she risk it again?
Eventually, the time for her next lesson arrives. Mia’s cast is off, replaced with a flexible splint that she’ll wear intermittently for the next six months to prevent refracturing. I wear sunglasses to hide my nervousness as she resumes riding. As the lesson unfolds, she canters again, a natural progression toward healing, and I feel a rush of pride.
Afterward, we celebrate with pizza, but then the doubt creeps back in: What if she falls again?
The next morning, I receive an email from Mia’s second-grade teacher, a fellow rider. She shares her own experiences with her daughter’s riding injuries, including a recent kick from a horse. “It’s risky for them, challenging for us,” she writes. Then she recounts her experience raising kittens, realizing that protecting them too much only placed them in greater danger.
She reminds me that we can’t shield our children from pain forever; sometimes, the barriers we erect to protect them can become more hazardous than the risks themselves. I save that email for future reference.
Unexpectedly, Mia tells me she wants to take a break from riding to join the new Girls on the Run program at school starting that afternoon. I feel a mix of relief and concern. I email Cassie, who reassures me that it’s perfectly fine, and Mia can return to lessons at her own pace.
I hold onto that email, too.
In summary, while it’s natural to want to protect our children from harm, allowing them to face challenges is also essential for their growth. Embracing risks, whether through riding or other activities, can teach resilience and strength, even if it means navigating the discomfort of potential injury.
Keyphrase: Allowing Kids to Experience Pain
Tags: home insemination kit, home insemination syringe, self insemination