Our child’s graduation was a celebration of our family’s wins

Last weekend, our daughter graduated from kindergarten. As she proudly crossed the stage, I found myself reflecting on how far we’ve come — not just in terms of our child’s academics, but as a family living with hemophilia.

As she received her diploma and later danced through musical numbers with her classmates, my husband, Jared, and I weren’t just celebrating her. Deep down, we were honoring the quiet victories that brought us here:

• The early mornings when Jared pushed through tiredness (and sometimes pain!) to tend to her needs. Not because he felt forced, but because he chose to do so.
• The bleeds we managed without disrupting her day.
• The fact that, despite it all, she hardly ever missed school, except when she was ill.

Getting through two years of preschool while juggling Jared’s bleeding disorder, my own well-being, and our night-shift work for overseas clients felt like a marathon. Some mornings, I’d crawl into bed at 3 a.m., only to be up again at 6. I often wondered how I’d make it through.

But Jared has always been the rock of our mornings. Even when he’s lacking sleep or not feeling his best, he gets up first, preps her bag, lays out her clothes, and often lets me sleep in just a little longer. We’ve figured out a rhythm, a tag-team effort to keep a routine going against all odds.

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A moment that hit home

During the ceremony, each child received a special award based on Montessori values. When they announced that our daughter had earned the Simplicity Award, I wasn’t sure what it meant at first.

Then the teacher read the description:

“This award is given to the child who acts unassumingly though she has high esteem. She values the important things in life that can’t be seen but perceived. She has the bearing of self-acceptance and a strong, realistic self-concept. She sees beauty beyond its physical limitations.”

I have to admit that reading this description makes me tear up every time. This certificate didn’t just sound nice. It was her. It was us. It was the invisible strength she’s been learning since birth.

Living with a family member who has hemophilia teaches one to notice what others often don’t. The quiet bravery of showing up. The courage it takes to adapt, to care, to hope. Things like Jared’s internal bleeds — unseen but deeply felt — have shaped our days. And somewhere amid all that, our daughter picked up the quiet wisdom to match.

That moment made me wonder: Maybe the greatest gift of raising a child alongside chronic illness is this early education in empathy and resilience.

Pride, with a side of something else

As she crossed the stage in her graduation gear, I felt the kind of pride every parent does. But beneath it also lay a twinge of grief.

She’s growing up. Fast. And with that growth comes a deepening awareness of the world around her. She’s already started asking big questions — ones that stop us in our tracks. One day, out of the blue, she asked, “Why did you two decide to be parents?” I wasn’t expecting it, but I did my best to answer in a way she could understand.

And yet, when it comes to the more complicated parts of our life — like Jared’s hemophilia and epilepsy — she rarely asks. There’s no “Why can’t Daddy always play?” or “Why do we cancel trips sometimes?” or “Why is our life a little different?” She asks about medicine, about how to tell if something’s wrong, and what to do in emergencies. But never about the why.

It’s not that she isn’t curious. She simply gets it.

She’s always had this quiet intuition, a way of absorbing the truth without needing it spelled out. And standing there onstage in her blue toga and cap, with her usual nonchalant demeanor, I saw it even more clearly: The very challenges we feared would weigh her down have, in fact, helped shape her into someone thoughtful, steady, and secure in herself.

That day, we didn’t just celebrate her graduation. We celebrated how far she’s come — and how far we’ve all come, together. Through every bleed, every sleepless night, every question we weren’t sure how to answer.

This isn’t just her story. It’s ours. And it’s only just beginning.

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.