I’m no Nadia Comaneci, but I am a mother of young men with hemophilia

Watching gymnasts Nadia Comaneci and Olga Korbut in the 1976 Olympic Games inspired me to do front rolls in my backyard. I knew back flips and aerial twirls weren’t in my reach, so I set my sights on mastering the cartwheel.

But it was never to happen. Trusting my outstretched hand to send my body and feet over to the other side was too much. I have similar trust issues with downhill skiing and diving into a pool. My hesitation to let go always holds me back. No reasoning about smooth water entries helps me dive, and as for skiing, if I were meant to have skis, the good Lord would have given them to me. Flying over ice on fiberglass feels like a death wish.

I have trust issues, too, when it comes to my two sons, Julian, 29, and Caeleb, 20. Both of them have severe hemophilia and now live away from home. While I’m no longer responsible for their medication or reminders, I sometimes worry: Are they treating as prescribed? Do they order their medication on time? Will they remember to treat as needed?

A recent conversation revived those old worries.

Recommended Reading

April 17, 2026 News by Michela Luciano, PhD

Regular exercise safely eases chronic pain in hemophilia: Study

When there is no turning back

My husband, Joe, and I took Caeleb to lunch while we were visiting Albuquerque, where he attends college. He was in great spirits, and our conversation ranged from philosophy to Dungeons and Dragons. But when we began to talk about Caeleb’s medications, we grew nervous.

Caeleb has struggled with his mental health in the past. Medication for depression and attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) has helped him. But he told us over lunch that he’d stopped taking his medicine and was feeling good. My husband suggested he call his therapist to talk about his decision and what to do next.

I take medication for depression and anxiety, so I know it’s not a good idea to stop without a doctor’s advice. I told Caeleb that if his depression comes back, it can take a while for the medicine to work again. He hadn’t considered that and promised he would call his doctor and make an appointment.

The muscle memory of trust

I’m sure that neither Comaneci nor Korbut started with gold medal-worthy routines. They trained their bodies, and over time, learned to trust their balance, their preparation, and the muscle memory that would carry them through those moments in the air when there was no turning back.

Parenting has felt a lot like that. At some point, you’ve done all the spotting you can from the sidelines. You’ve steadied them, guided them, and reminded them where to put their hands. But they have to step onto the mat by themselves.

I have to trust Caeleb to handle his health needs himself. I must trust that what we’ve taught him will help him to make good choices.

Letting go still doesn’t feel natural to me, whether it’s a cartwheel, a dive, or trusting my sons to manage their health and their lives. But maybe trust isn’t about having no fear. Maybe it’s about believing that what we’ve practiced, taught, and lived will hold up, even in the air and even when things are uncertain.

So, like those gymnasts who finally commit to the movement, I’m learning, slowly and imperfectly, to let go and trust that they will land.

Note: Hemophilia News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Hemophilia News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to hemophilia.