We spend so much of our parenting lives preparing our kids to grow up and live independently. We teach them how to tie their shoes, drive a car, pay bills, and navigate the world. And when they finally do—when they’re out there, living their adult lives—we feel proud, relieved, maybe a little nostalgic.
What we don’t expect is to be called back into that role overnight. Not because they failed. But because life happened.
No one prepares you for what it means to parent your adult child through a medical emergency, mental health crisis, or other life-altering event. There are no parenting books for that season—not the kind you can pick up at Target, anyway.
But that’s exactly the kind of parenting I’ve found myself doing.
When my adult daughter was suddenly airlifted to a trauma hospital and diagnosed with a rare, life-threatening infection, everything stopped. Her independence, her routine, her plans for the future—all on hold. And mine? My work, my health, my finances, my sense of normalcy—all shifted too. I became her full-time caregiver, advocate, emotional anchor, and interpreter for a world she couldn’t understand on her own.
It wasn’t just about getting through a hospital stay. It was about learning how to manage life-supporting medical devices. Advocating for insurance coverage. Relearning how to communicate with specialists. Managing medications, mental health, meals, transportation. All while grieving what we lost—and trying to find hope in what we still had.
And I’m not alone.
Since walking through this fire, I’ve heard from so many other parents in similar shoes—navigating the fallout from car accidents, suicide attempts, addiction, disability, chronic illness, or unexpected loss. They’re exhausted. Isolated. And most of all, unseen. Society expects adult children to be independent. So when they’re not, the parents who step back in often do so without a roadmap or a support network.
That’s why I’ve been writing a book—When the Unexpected Happens: A Guide for Parenting Adult Children Through Crisis.
It’s part story, part survival guide. I want it to be the book I wish I’d had when everything changed. Not a one-size-fits-all manual, but a companion through the chaos. A place to feel validated, grounded, and reminded that you are not alone.
In the coming weeks and months, I’ll be using this space to share stories from the trenches. I’ll talk about what’s helped me survive—emotionally, logistically, and spiritually. I’ll offer checklists, reflections, resources, and maybe most importantly, honest conversations about the things we’re not saying out loud:
- What does it mean to parent someone who’s legally independent but still fully dependent on you?
- How do you advocate for your child while also managing your own health and survival?
- Where do you find support when caregiving isn’t temporary, and no one’s bringing casseroles anymore?
- How do you hold on to hope when everything you pictured has crumbled?
If you’re reading this and you’re in the thick of it, I want you to know: you’re not failing. You’re showing up. And that matters more than anything.
If you’re not in crisis, but love someone who is—whether that’s a friend, a sibling, or a parent—you’ll find tools here to better understand and support them.
And if you’ve been through it and come out the other side? I hope you’ll stick around and share your voice, too.
There’s a community of quiet warriors out there—parents holding hospital hands, managing meds, making impossible decisions—and it’s time we had a space to be heard. To connect. To breathe.
Because when the unexpected happens, love shows up.
And so do we.
And now, finally, so will the conversations we need.
