Support Makes Independence Possible

I've always believed that independence isn't about removing support, but about providing the right support to make more things possible. Looking back at Yara's journey, I can think of so many moments when this belief shaped the decisions we made as parents.

I remember when Yara was little, our physical therapist was nervous about bringing up the possibility of using a walker. She wasn't sure how we would react to the suggestion. Perhaps she worried we would see it as a setback or as giving up on the possibility of Yara walking independently someday.

But that wasn't how we saw it. To us, a walker meant freedom. It meant Yara could explore her surroundings, move around with greater independence, and participate in experiences that would otherwise be difficult to access. So we got her a little gold walker that matched her sparkling personality. It became a tool that opened up her world while she continued working toward walking on her own.

We approached communication with the same mindset. Before Yara could speak, she learned to communicate through sign language. Rather than waiting for her to develop verbal communication or expecting her to adapt to the way we communicated, we decided to meet her where she was. All of us, including her grandparents, took sign language classes so we could communicate with her. We learned alongside her, and in doing so, made sure she had a way to express her thoughts, needs, preferences, and personality long before spoken words came.

Neither the walker nor sign language was a substitute for the skills we hoped she would develop. They were tools that allowed her to experience more of life while she worked toward those skills. And that distinction has guided so much of our parenting over the years.

We've embraced therapies, accommodations, assistive technology, and countless other supports, not because we doubted Yara's abilities, but because we believed in them. We wanted to give her every opportunity to learn, participate, make choices, and experience the satisfaction of doing things for herself.

I think sometimes, especially when it comes to children with disabilities, we unintentionally measure independence by how little help someone needs. We celebrate doing things without assistance and can become so focused on removing supports that we overlook what those supports actually make possible.

Yet none of us navigate life entirely on our own. We all depend on tools, people, systems, and resources that make our lives easier and allow us to do more. We just don't always think of them as accommodations.

A walker can provide freedom of movement. Sign language can give someone a voice. Assistive technology can create access to learning, and the right accommodation can make participation possible. None of these diminish a person's independence. In many cases, they are exactly what makes independence possible.

As parents, educators, therapists, and caregivers, I hope we can shift the question from "How can we get them to do this without help?" to "What support would allow them to do more for themselves?"

Because the goal was never for Yara to prove that she doesn't need anyone. The goal has always been to help her build the skills, confidence, and opportunities to live as fully and independently as possible, with whatever supports she needs along the way.

Independence isn't the absence of support. Sometimes, support is the very thing that makes independence possible.