With Father’s Day this weekend I thought it was a good time to write an article about accessible parenting. The first time I held my son Noah, I didn’t do it the way most fathers do. I couldn’t. I was born without hands, and my arms are too short to hold a basketball let alone a baby. But I held him. I had thought about it before he arrived — planned for it, even — and then the moment came and I adapted on the fly anyway, the way you always do with a newborn. I used a sling, I positioned myself, and we figured it out. And in that moment, every doubt I’d ever carried about whether I could be the father I wanted to be quietly stepped aside.
Noah is 24 now. My stepdaughter Myranda is 31 — I’ve been her dad since she was five years old. So I’ve had a while to sit with what accessible parenting actually looks like in practice, not in theory. And what I can tell you is this: the conversation around it is almost completely absent. You hear about accessible buildings, accessible websites, accessible travel. But parenting with a disability? That is a topic that gets skipped over, and the silence around it does real damage to disabled parents who are trying to figure things out without a roadmap, a support system, or even a single story that looks like theirs.
Disabled parenting, accessible parenting, or parenting with a disability is when one or both parents of children have a disability. It is more common than most people realize — according to the CDC, roughly one in four American adults lives with some form of disability, and many of them are parents. Yet the resources, communities, and honest conversations built specifically for disabled parents remain remarkably scarce. Society has a long history of underestimating disabled parents before they ever hold their child for the first time, questioning their capability before they’ve had a single chance to prove it. That needs to change.
This post is for them — because accessible parenting deserves a real conversation, not silence. And honestly, it’s for anyone who has ever wondered what it looks like to raise a child when the world was not built with you in mind.
Truth #1: Accessible Parenting Starts Before the Baby Comes Home
Most people think about baby-proofing. Disabled parents think about parent-proofing. Before Noah arrived, I was already solving problems that most parenting books don’t address. How do I hold a newborn safely? How do I change a diaper? How do I get from one room to another with an infant when I also need my chair to move?
The answers don’t come from a checklist. They come from creativity, from planning, and from accepting that some plans will change the second reality shows up.
When Noah was small, I struggled to buckle him into his car seat alone, which limited our outings unless my wife or someone else was available to help. However, once I taught Noah to buckle himself in, I could manage the unbuckling, allowing us to go places together independently, a significant change that stemmed from patience and teaching rather than a product or workaround.
Accessible parenting means building systems that work for your body, your home, and your family — and being willing to keep rebuilding them as your child grows.
Truth #2: The World Will Doubt You Before Your Child Ever Does
I cannot tell you how many times I have encountered a look. You know the one. The quick scan, the subtle furrowing of the brow, the unspoken question: can he really do this? It comes from strangers in grocery stores, from well-meaning relatives, occasionally from medical professionals who should know better.
One of the most common assumptions people made about me was that I never changed a diaper. I want to set the record straight: I did change diapers. Not as many as my wife — she absolutely carried more of that particular load — but I changed Noah’s diaper a dozen or so times. I figured out how to do it. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t fast, but it got done. The assumption that I simply couldn’t was wrong, and it’s exactly the kind of assumption that makes accessible parenting harder than it needs to be.
Here is what I know for certain: children do not come into this world with those doubts. Noah has never once looked at me and seen limitation. Myranda didn’t either. Kids are remarkably good at accepting the world as it is. They adapt, they learn, and they follow your lead. The doubt is a grown-up problem, and it belongs to the people carrying it — not to you, and not to your child.
Truth #3: Adaptive Parenting Is Just Creative Parenting
Growing up, I faced numerous obstacles in a world not designed for people in wheelchairs, limb differences, and people with disabilities in general. That experience, as hard as it was, turned me into a relentless problem-solver. And problem-solving is one of the most useful skills a parent can have.
When I couldn’t do something the standard way, I found another way. And nowhere did that show up more joyfully than in how my kids got around when they were tired of walking. Most parents carry their kids. I couldn’t do that in the traditional sense — but Myranda and Noah both discovered early on that they could ride on the back of my wheelchair. And unlike a parent carrying a child on their back, I never got tired. They could ride as long as they wanted. What started as a practical solution became one of their favorite things. I think about that a lot when people assume that disability only takes things away from parenting. Sometimes it gives things too.
Adaptive devices and thoughtful home accessibility modifications have been part of our family life since the beginning. Small changes — repositioned storage, modified furniture heights, a home designed around how I actually move — make the difference between a parent who can engage fully and one who is constantly fighting their own space.
Truth #4: Your Kids Will Learn Something Most Kids Don’t
One of the most underrated parts of accessible parenting is what it gives your kids — a gift that money cannot buy. They grow up understanding, from their very first memories, that people come in different bodies, different abilities, and different circumstances — and that none of those differences determine a person’s worth or capability.
Myranda and Noah never needed a lesson in empathy around disability. It is woven into their understanding of the world from the ground up. They see accessibility accommodations not as special treatment but as normal parts of life. They know what it means to adapt. They know what it means to persist. They watched their dad do both, every single day, without making a production of it.
Research on children raised in a disabled parenting household consistently shows they develop stronger empathy, greater resilience, and a more nuanced understanding of human difference. According to Through the Looking Glass, a national resource center focused on families with disability, children of disabled parents are not at a disadvantage — they are often at a distinct advantage in social and emotional development. That tracks completely with what I have seen in my own kids.
Truth #5: Accessible Parenting Means Advocating for Your Right to Show Up
One of the hardest parts of being a disabled parent is that your child will eventually enter spaces you cannot fully follow them into. Schools. Playgrounds. Sports facilities. And when those spaces are inaccessible to you, it creates a real and painful gap in your ability to show up the way you want to.
I’ve sat outside spaces that weren’t designed for wheelchair users. I’ve missed moments because a building decided, through poor design or neglect, that I didn’t belong there. Those moments don’t disappear. They sit with you.
This is why accessible parenting is also about advocacy — not just for yourself, but for your right to be fully present in your child’s life. Schools that understand inclusive design make it possible for disabled parents to participate in classroom visits, performances, and parent-teacher conferences. Businesses and venues that prioritize accessibility allow disabled parents to be there, not watching from a distance or hearing about it secondhand.
A parent being able to show up for their child is not a special accommodation. It is a fundamental right.
Truth #6: You Will Figure It Out — and So Will They
Here is the thing about parenting that nobody tells you loudly enough: it is a learning process for everyone. No parent knows what they’re doing at first. Every single one of them is adapting, improvising, and figuring it out as they go.
When parenting with a disability, I believe you just learn a little faster and get a little more creative a little sooner. You don’t have the option of doing things the default way, so you find your way earlier than most. And here is the beautiful part — your kid is right there figuring it out with you. You and your spouse, you and your child, you and your family: you will figure it out together. Trust yourself.
I didn’t have a blueprint for accessible parenting when Myranda came into my life at five or when Noah was born a few years later. I had determination, a sling, a wheelchair with room for two on the back, and a stubborn belief that love is a more powerful force than limitation. Decades later, I still believe that.
If you are a disabled parent just starting out and you are scared — that is normal. Keep going. The doubt belongs to other people. The joy belongs to you.
Ready to Make Your World More Accessible?
If you want to talk about how to make your business, school, or community more welcoming to disabled parents and families, I’d love to connect. Reach out through the Equal Accessibility contact page and let’s build something better together.
Want to keep reading? Check out Why Accessibility Impacts Everyone: Building a Stronger, More Inclusive World for All and The Life-Changing Power of Disability Representation for more on why inclusion matters beyond compliance.
