I’ve never been a fan of running. Back in my soccer days, it felt more like a game and less like a chore, but just the thought of running for the sake of running makes me cringe. I attempted to distract myself with music, but I often ended up on the side of the road, belting out show tunes instead of maintaining any semblance of fitness. Perhaps it’s time to confront the fact that my Broadway aspirations are still unresolved. I even tried to channel this during college — a misguided attempt to counterbalance my fondness for Wisconsin cheese bread. My roommate would urge me on, “Just to the mailbox, Emily. I know you can do it!” But more often than not, my response was, “What if we just stopped for ice cream instead?”
So, it was quite surprising one day when I declared to my husband, “I’ll be right back, I need some fresh air.” I slipped on a pair of sneakers and took a spontaneous break from adulthood. As I strolled down the street, I felt like a character from Edward Scissorhands, arms flailing, no phone, no keys, just me and the world. Before I knew it, I was running — not out of exhaustion or boredom, but simply because I was alone outside.
Later, I realized I had covered over two miles, complete with a hill. I was impressed too, but when I tried to repeat that feat later in the week, I found myself merely staring at the hill before retreating home, singing “Climb Every Mountain” at the top of my lungs.
Upon returning home, I pondered what had driven me to run. There it was — the walker. A bright red, metal device I had acquired a month earlier to assist my daughter in her journey to walk. Diagnosed with cri-du-chat syndrome, a rare genetic disorder affecting 1 in 50,000 births, we were uncertain if she’d ever walk or talk.
Initially, I was thrilled to bring the walker home, convinced it would help prove the geneticist wrong. With her knee-height orthotics, she had just begun to pull herself up, but her body struggled to support its own weight for walking. Each time she saw the walker, however, she would burst into tears. I felt the pressure to push her, but we both preferred our kitchen dance parties. My husband had a natural way with her, while I busied myself rearranging her therapy schedule. I found myself watching neighborhood kids, half her age, run freely as I measured our kitchen to see if it could fit a wheelchair.
This milestone felt agonizingly out of reach. Our determined therapists were doing everything possible to encourage her. Was her hypotonia the reason she couldn’t hold her weight? Did she understand the motor skills needed for those first steps? Her wails during therapy sessions left me wondering if it was fatigue, pain, or frustration that plagued her. Jordan spent countless hours with her team, engaging with hula hoops, banging on drums, and utilizing weighted tools for support.
On one particularly challenging day, our family trainer brought her dog, Teddy, along. Noticing Jordan’s fascination with Teddy’s fluffy coat, the team decided to use this to their advantage. Teddy was trained to motivate kids like Jordan, and the chance to pet him was just the incentive she needed to begin moving.
The day Jordan took her first supported steps will forever hold a special place in my heart, much like the classic film An Affair To Remember does for my mother. No matter what I’m doing, I can’t help but tear up at the memory of my little girl, who wasn’t expected to walk, actually taking those steps.
A few weeks later, I found myself in another moment of clarity. “I’ll be right back, I need some fresh air,” I called out to my husband again. As I walked along the sidewalk, my heart swelled with pride for my daughter. She had crossed off the first item on her “won’t be able to do” list. With renewed determination, I quickened my pace. If my daughter could learn to walk, surely I could make it to the mailbox.
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Summary
Watching my daughter navigate the challenges of learning to walk, especially given her diagnosis of cri-du-chat syndrome, was a profound experience. From struggling with an intimidating walker to finally taking those first steps motivated by a dog, every moment was filled with emotion and growth. If she can conquer her challenges, so can I.
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