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Parenting is hard, unpredictable and relentlessly demanding. Now imagine parenting as a person with a disability.
That’s not hypothetical for Dr. Marjorie Aunos, it’s her everyday reality. After a car accident left her with a spinal cord injury, Marjorie went from walking to wheeling. But what didn’t change was her role as a mother. She’s not parenting despite her disability. She’s parenting with it, in a way that’s deeply intentional, adaptive, and, frankly, impressive.
Marjorie isn’t asking for sympathy nor does she want to be seen as a superhero or symbol. She’s a mom. But where most parents might take things like accessible sidewalks or bathroom stalls for granted, she has to plan, adjust, plan again and often invent her own way.
This is the daily reality of parenting with a disability.
What makes Marjorie’s story compelling is her refusal to let limitations, physical or societal, define her relationship with her son Thomas. In fact, their bond has only grown deeper through their shared experience of adapting together. They’re a team. He’s learned, at a young age, that accessibility isn’t just a policy issue, it’s personal. He knows how to push her chair when the hill’s too steep, how to grab something just out of reach, and when to step back and let her lead. Now that he’s a teenager, their teamwork continues.
But this is not a child becoming their parent’s caretaker. That’s a child growing up in an environment where teamwork and empathy are core values. And that’s one of the most overlooked benefits of parenting with a disability: the powerful emotional intelligence it builds in children.
Sadly, ableism creeps into the lives of families with disabilities. Marjorie talks openly about the subtlety: like the assumptions people made when they saw her in public with her young son. She recalls moments when bystanders watched her call firmly to him at a playground and assumed she was angry or impatient. What they didn’t realize was that, from her wheelchair, she couldn’t reach him quickly if he ran too far or stumbled. Her tone wasn’t frustration. It was protection and thankfully her son knew the difference.
Disability and parenting exist on a spectrum. They’re not opposites. They intersect in ways that challenge traditional parenting advice and expose the flaws in systems designed with only one kind of body in mind. Diaper-changing tables that are too high. Public restrooms with no wide stalls. Schools with no ramps. Marjorie’s life and other parents like her, is a constant loop of logistical math. What’s the terrain like? Can she get through the door? Is someone around who can help her up a step, or will she need to find a workaround? But even amid the planning, improvising and endless re-routing, she finds joy. However, when society does not include disabled parents in its design thinking, it’s dangerously inconvenient but also exclusionary.
As a result, Marjorie’s bag is full of ‘creative tools, not just for herself, but for her role of parenting as a person with a disability. A bubble wand can dissolve a toddler tantrum. A scarf becomes a safety rope for crossing busy intersections . . . she’s not aiming to control every variable, just to make space for freedom and safety to coexist. And the best part? Her son is thriving. He’s independent, emotionally aware, and sees strength not in physical ability, but in problem-solving, humor, and connection. He doesn’t see her disability as a deficit but just a part of who she is. She’s not ‘less than’ other parents. She is his parent. And to him, she’s more than enough.
“If you would ask Thomas who I am or what is special about me he would say, ‘She’s just mom.’ Marjorie said. “The kids in my family don’t see me disabled. They don’t see me extraordinary. They just see me as their mom or aunt. And they want to spend time with me because I play, I listen, I laugh, and I accept them as they are. And sometimes I tell them no—when they need to hear it. The disability is part of who I am but it does not define me in their eyes.”
Marjorie embraces community. She leans on her friends and family when she needs a lift, literally and metaphorically. She’s taught her circle how to help her navigate stairs without anyone getting hurt, how to support without patronizing, and how to show up without making a scene. It’s a kind of social choreography built on trust and understanding.
But that community didn’t happen by accident. It took being visible and asking for help. That’s a lesson she wants more parents with disabilities to embrace: asking for help is not weakness. It’s wisdom and frankly, just a practical thing to do.
Society often views disability through a lens of pity or inspiration. But neither of those labels do justice to the lived experience. What Marjorie demonstrates, day after day, is that disabled parents aren’t asking to be applauded for existing. They’re asking to be included in the conversation, the infrastructure, the policy, and the playground.
When she flew alone to a conference, navigating airports, wheelchairs, and baggage with no assistance, she came home exhausted, but triumphant. Her son saw her leave apprehensively and come back accomplished. That moment taught him more about courage and determination than any lecture ever could.
So, what does parenting with a disability really look like?
- It looks like showing up, even when the system says, “don’t bother”
- It looks like asking different questions and getting creative answers
- It looks like grace under pressure, laughter in chaos, and strength redefined
- It looks like Dr. Marjorie Aunos
And if you’re still wondering whether parents with disabilities can ‘manage’, maybe it’s time to ask a better question: how can we as a society make it easier for them to thrive? Because parenting isn’t about how fast you can run after a child. It’s about how deeply you connect with them, how safe they feel with you, and how well you teach them to navigate a world that perhaps won’t always understand them.
Parents adapt to parenthood using a different set of tools, perspectives, and adaptations. They develop their own systems, routines, and solutions that work for their bodies and their families. They often cultivate strong emotional bonds, encourage independence in their children, and model tenacity in everyday life. While the logistics may differ, the heart of parenting remains the same: love, protection, guidance, and connection. As a result, children raised by parents with disabilities often grow up more emotionally intelligent, respectful of difference, and grounded in empathy.
What many people overlook is that disabled parents are not ‘less than.’ They are simply parenting differently, often with extraordinary creativity, adaptability, and care. Can you be a good parent with a disability? Absolutely. Countless parents are already doing just that, quietly challenging outdated assumptions and redefining what great parenting truly means.
But Marjorie says, “Even if I learned to navigate myself in inaccessible spaces, I feel we need to do better for all families. This is why my colleagues and I are working on several research projects. The first will ask families headed by parents with disabilities about their particular access needs while travelling in national parks and built environments.” She continued, “The second will ask parents and their children about their wellbeing as a family. For parents who acquire a disability and who may struggle adjusting, we are looking at validating a coaching program to support the transition so that they know how they can continue to contribute as parents in their kids’ lives.
For more information about these research projects, email Dr. Marjorie Aunos at: marjorieaunos@gmail.com