By Nadia Muthoni

When we speak about disability, our attention naturally gravitates toward the child. We focus on access, therapy, education, and inclusion and rightly so. But rarely do we pause to ask an equally important question: what about the parents and caregivers? Do we assume they are automatically okay simply because they are not the ones with the disability?.

At first glance, parents and caregivers of children with disabilities seem “strong.” They show up.They adapt.They manage appointments, therapies, school meetings, medications, stares, and whispered questions.From the outside, it looks like resilience. From the inside, it is often exhaustion masked as strength. Their lives quietly change shape. They attend appointments, advocate in classrooms, manage therapy schedules, administer medication, and navigate a world that is still learning how to be inclusive. From the outside, they appear resilient and capable. From the inside, many are carrying quiet exhaustion. Their lives change in ways few people see.

Dreams are postponed.Careers are restructured.Social lives shrink.Sleep becomes a luxury.Joy becomes something scheduled between responsibilities. They learn patience at a depth most people never have to reach. They love deeply, yet many grieve silently the life they imagined, the ease they hoped for, the normal they were promised.

When this grief has no safe place to land, it hardens. Bitterness can grow not toward the child, but toward the weight of the journey itself. Left unaddressed, that pain can quietly turn into resentment, which the child undeservingly ends up carrying. This is why the conversation around disability must evolve.

In recent years, we have begun to see a crucial shift from focusing solely on children with disabilities to recognizing the wellbeing of the parent or caregiver as equally important. This shift matters because caring is not neutral. It has emotional, mental, and physical costs. The truth is simple yet often overlooked. To take care of the child, the parent has to be at their best. When you empower the parent, you empower the child. This reality was powerfully demonstrated during this year’s World Disability Day at KISE. The day was intentionally designed not just for children, but for their parents as well. It became a safe space, a calm, joyful environment where families could relax, play, and simply be. Parents arrived guarded, unsure if they were allowed to let their guard down. But slowly, something beautiful unfolded.

They laughed. They danced. They played with their children without rushing, without fear, without the weight of responsibility pressing down. For a few hours, the appointments paused. The worries softened. The burden lifted. Many parents showed up ready to let loose and they did. It was a reminder of how deeply starved parents are for spaces that see them not just as caregivers, but as human beings.

Those moments mattered. They reminded us that parents need joy too. They need rest. They need community. They need to be seen, heard, and supported. Disability does not exist in isolation. A child thrives through a regulated, emotionally supported caregiver. When a parent is overwhelmed, the child feels it. When a parent is supported, the child rises with them.

Parental empowerment is not an extra thing. It is foundational. It is advocacy. It is early intervention. It is inclusion in its truest form. As we continue to build inclusive systems, let us remember the hands that hold these children every day. Let us create more spaces that heal parents as much as they support children. Let us ask how parents are doing mentally, emotionally, and socially.

Because behind every child with special needs is a parent carrying a journey that deserves care too. And no one should have to carry it alone.

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