The Story of a Mother’s Love and Her Daughter’s Determination

24 Years Later

Cindy’s son Ben was a freshman at the same university she attended. Late one night, Cindy was driving home from his choir concert with her youngest daughter asleep in the passenger seat. To try and stay awake she asked her daughter, Beth to sit up and talk to her.

About that was when the car accident happened.

From that moment on Beth was paralyzed from the chest down with a cut spinal cord at C6-7. Quadriplegic. Cindy said, “I was broken in ways that cannot be seen.”

One Month After the Injury

One month post-injury: Beth, 14 years old, decided to put her hair in a ponytail. She failed, with fingers that don’t work and arms that tremble. At therapy, she laid flat on her stomach, unable to lift her shoulders off the mat. Cindy felt extremely guilty, blaming herself for the accident and her daughter’s injury.

In the rehab pool for the first time, Beth was held up by two therapists. Beth decided to float but when the therapists let go of her she sank. They caught her and then tried to teach her how to roll over to breathe, but she can’t do that or anything else in the water. When the water sessions ended, she asked for Cindy’s help in the pool.

Where she leads, Cindy follows

One year post-injury: Beth attempts a ponytail, again and again, before handing Cindy the elastic band. On the mat, she lifted her shoulders several inches while a therapist leaned on her back. At the YMCA, she decided to put on a swim cap. She failed but her arms no longer trembled. Not a swimmer before the injury, she discovered she loved to float with her arms waving gently under the surface. She attempted the backstroke, but immediately went under.

Cindy lifted her up and splashed water on her own face to hide her tears from her daughter.

Two years post-injury

Beth achieved a perfect messy ponytail on her own. When a therapist leaned on her back, she nearly straightened her arms. At the pool, she tried to put on a swim cap before handing it to Cindy. She swam slow backstroke laps, alone in the lane. At her first wheelchair games, she decided to learn the freestyle stroke. With legs that drag behind and hands that cannot cup the water, she pushed forward, panicked—until she lifted her head up to take a desperate breath of air, just like her mother did all those years ago when she was in college.

Three and a half years post-injury

Beth raced with a sloppy freestyle at her high school swim meet. She decided to lift herself out of the pool at a corner and failed. In the locker room, she got dressed in her wheelchair without Cindy’s help for the first time. She struggled to put on loose sweatpants over her bathing suit and was the last one out the door.

A few months later, she swam her first mile in one practice. At a pool in Toledo, the nearest big city, she volunteered with preschoolers with a disability. The first thing she taught them was how to roll over in the water to breathe.

Her optimism lives on.

Six-and-a-half years post-injury: Beth wheeled on the deck of Harvard’s Blodgett pool. Surrounded by teammates, she was the first member of her college team with a visible disability. She put on a swim cap with the hands of a quad and swam two miles at one practice for the first time. At home meets, she raced a smooth freestyle and set new Paralympic American records.

She showered before getting dressed in the varsity locker room. She changed clothes efficiently in her chair and was able to zip the zipper on her skinny jeans.

Cindy tried to be grateful for her daughter’s independence but she missed being needed.

Eight years post injury

During a finals event at the Beijing Paralympics, women from eight countries paraded toward the starting blocks. Cindy held her breath as the race begins. Beth’s freestyle was a beautiful work of art. She finished fifth in the world, smashing her best time along with an American record.

Cindy cried.

Ten years post-injury: Beth retires from competitive swimming with 14 American records. She puts a cap over her ponytail and swims butterfly laps at an outdoor pool near Stanford Law School. She lifted herself out of the water to sit on the deck, shining in the California sun.

Cindy returned her dimpled smile.

Like I said at the beginning, this is the story of a mother’s love and her daughter’s determination. It would have been so easy for Cindy to keep taking care of Beth, but she didn’t. She loved her enough to let her go and to let her keep trying things that I’m sure she was told were impossible.

Now, because of Beth, guilt no longer defines Cindy.  She no longer has panic attacks that take her breath away. Just like her daughter, she continues to gain strength and confidence. In fact, Cindy says that one day she even might even learn how to swim.

You can read more about Cindy and Beth at Cindy’s blog, Struggling with Serendipity