I heard a new parenting term the other day – snowplowing… you know, like clearing the way. Any obstacle that comes into your kid’s path – bust out the snowplow and smooth the way, ensuring an easy open path to success. I got a good laugh from that. My general approach to life is the opposite. Leave the obstacles – we learn from them, we grow from them, we become better because of them. I’m not saying to add extra, or to ask for more – but whatever is put in front you – ya, lean in. Ditch the snowplow, grab a shovel and start digging. But then when I think about Amichai, I sometimes wonder if this is always the right approach. Should I be clearing the way?

Watching a child with CP grow up is awe-inspiring but it is also relentless and demanding.  Amichai has mastered so many everyday tasks. He walks up and down stairs with ease. He can get dressed by himself – well, most of the way – he still gets a bit stuck when putting on his shirt and socks aren’t always great…but he tries and he will get it. Amichai can brush his teeth, get in and out of the bath himself, eat, go to the bathroom, ride his scooter fast and furious – all on his own. It is awe-inspiring because he does it his own way with his own brand of grace. My husband Gabe recently remarked that Amichai’s physical challenges do not worry him – that he doesn’t even see them as an obstacle. All he sees is kid that is capable. Pretty great statement, right? Good Gabe – this is what my friends call him – because he is. He gets it and its one of the many reasons I married him. But Gabe’s remark is also testament to how hard this kid works.

Amichai makes it look easy. Eazy peezy he says. But the road is not always smooth – it curves every which way, up and down and then up again – with bumps and potholes around each turn. We meet this chaos with order and structure. Repetition after repetition until he understands how his body needs to work. Every day we stretch. Every day we do our exercises. His well-being depends on it. It can be exhausting and there really isn’t a break. For him or for me. And because he works so hard, because he is so motivated to meet the struggle that will never go away – I ask myself, should I clear the way of other obstacles because he already has enough?

This feeling is compounded by the fact that Amichai also faces obstacles in his family life. He is a child of divorced parents, and even if everything went easily – the fact is that Amichai is being raised in two different environments with two different approaches. To comprehend that, to manage that, to thrive in that – that is a hard feat. But Amichai puts in the work here as well. He happily goes to his weekly therapy session. Not many people go happily to therapy. He knows he has a space to express himself – and he is learning how to communicate those feelings outside of the therapist’s office. He has a pretty firm understanding of the roles people play in his life and what those relationships mean to him. Not too shabby for a six-year-old. So …isn’t that enough too? Can’t I just make it a little easier for him by gently – or fine forcibly, with all of my might – kicking something out of his way?

I go around and around in my head, but ultimately my gut tells me no. Don’t do it. Because even if I wanted to ride my snowplow in front of Amichai his whole life, even if I thought that was a legitimate way to help him find success– I can’t get to every single obstacle he will face. The challenges in life come in every direction and they are unavoidable. It just doesn’t help to shelter him from them. I want my child to engage in this world, to participate, to contribute – and that means he needs to face what is in front of him on his own two feet, no matter the difficulty, no matter how much it scares me.

So what does help him? And how can I reconcile my legitimate feelings of wanting to ease the way for my child who already faces enough, but also my deep conviction that the obstacles are there to make us better? I think the answer lies in this – he is not alone. That while he might need to face whatever hurdle is in front of him on his own, there will always be someone close by – offering guidance, support, and encouragement. And knowing this – knowing that you are never alone – this breeds confidence and trust that you can take on anything. I know this to be true in my own life. The times that I have faced struggles, it was the people who I knew stood behind me, who I knew would not leave me – they gave me the ability to stand boldly. Amichai has this same army of people surrounding him. It is a privilege to captain this army, but it gives me great comfort in knowing that the company I lead – they share the same dedication to this child I love profoundly and intensely.

For now, I’ll leave the snowplow behind. I’ll let Amichai run in front of me or walk a few paces behind me as he often does. As he gets older, I’m sure there will be times he won’t want to walk with me at all. Its just not cool Mom. And then when something comes up, when he faces the unavoidable obstacle in his path – with an entire platoon of people cheering him on – he will kick it out of the way himself…eazy peezy.

Playing through pain is a universal concept in sports. I am positive for every story I have where I sucked it up, put my nose back in place and just carried on – I have a male counter part who can recount his own wounded warrior saga. But the thing is, right or wrong – well most probably wrong, especially in this day in age – the female athlete always feels more pressure to prove herself. There is still a part of us still fighting to change stereotypes and perceptions that should have been put to rest a long time ago – that we are weaker, more sensitive to pain, or lacking the endurance which sports demands. So, we double down. I’ll play through it all. Broken bones, torn muscles, ruptured ligaments, jammed fingers, massive bruises with every shade of blue purple and red, cuts that never heal, extreme fatigue, endless training sessions…bring it all on. There is no quit – in fact, there is a burning desire to shove it in the face of perceived doubters. Let me show you just what I can do. Warrior girl.

There is something extremely empowering in knowing that you can take the pain – to plant your feet firmly on the ground as a massive athlete is barreling toward you, take the charge, absorb the pain as your body is thrown to the floor and then just get up. To know that the pain is fleeting, it will pass, and you will go on playing. Of all the skills and life lessons I have learned through sports – leadership, work ethic, teamwork – knowing that I can take it – that has served me well time and time again. When I have gone through particularly rough times, I would put my game face on. I would look into my own eyes through the mirror and frantically search for the voice that told me – I’m not hurting. And even if I am – I can take it, I can go on. Warrior girl.

But there is a danger in this too. Sokolove points out that ACL tears in young girls and women are “overexposure injuries” – the more often a girl plays, the greater her odds are of suffering a tear. You keep going and going and going. There is no stop because you aren’t supposed to, you aren’t allowed to – that doesn’t fit into the mentality we are expected to maintain.  But then something happens – you land the wrong way, you pivot too quickly – and it all comes crashing down. Game over, season finished sometimes before it even began…because we thought, because we were indoctrinated to believe – that our capacity to withstand discomfort and pain is limitless. And then we learn that’s not actually the way it’s meant to work. Something is going to snap sooner or later. We are actually weakened by the grind.

I’ve found myself struggling recently with the trials and tribulations I meet off the field. Not that I want it – but these days a smashed nose or sprained ankle or twisted knee – they don’t seem so difficult to manage when I think about the complexities of life. I’m a parent, I’m a single parent at that and a mother to a child with special needs – the obvious struggles are inherent within that statement itself. But there are also other constant and continuing stresses in my life which aren’t so obvious – which make me nauseas just thinking about – and these certainly take a toll. On one hand, the athlete in me pushes me to play on through life’s daily challenges – to absorb the hardships, the frustrations, at times ya – the pain, and keep going. On the other hand, I also find myself saying it doesn’t have to be like this, to admit the day-to-day grind can be punishing. Overexposure, again and again. Am I really meant to just fight through it? To live like that? I am told that the answer to this is unequivocally no. I don’t have to power through everything in life all the time. Logically I believe this – I even preach this same thought to friends when they are going through challenges. But I find it so hard to strike that balance between gutting it out and saying it’s just too much. Because if I said it’s too much – what would that make me? So much of my strength is self defined and wrapped up in my ability to keep going. How can I be a competitor in life if I give into the difficulty? Would I still be a Warrior Girl?

Maybe the answer lies in understanding the mechanics of prevention. Sokolove offers a comprehensive preventative program that can help our female athletes avoid an ACL tear and other devastating injuries. The ideas are based around the physiological differences between men and women and therefore developing more suitable training programs. Equally important he urges an elimination of constant overexposure and encourages coaches to teach their players to speak up about pain – even minor discomfort. Prevention. I know I can play through pain – but I don’t have to. There’s a better way. There are steps and methods I can implement in my life to avoid the emotional turmoil before it even begins. More than that, giving myself permission to say I’m even minorly hurting – eventually, I may even acknowledge this is the more responsible thing to do.  It might make my life easier. It might make me stronger.

Everyone loves the image of the wounded warrior. Its more exciting, more dramatic, more marketable. Kerri Strug lands on one leg to grab the gold. You can do it! Abby Wombach gets her head stapled after splitting it open in a nasty collision. #badass. You can’t help but respect their gritty performances.  But then what happens after the wounded warrior drags herself across the finish line? What’s left of her for the next fight? Maybe the real sense of empowerment comes from prevention and preparation because you are anticipating the challenges ahead. You are recognizing that you can get hurt, that you might even get hurt  – but you have mechanisms in place that will prevent you from completely crashing. Maybe you won’t make headlines. Blood and guts sells better than smart and sensible but that’s ok because you invested in the process, because you took control of your own fate, because you came to truly understand what you need… because you can actually go on the next day. You have redefined your strength by cultivating your weaknesses. Warrior Girl.