The dignity of risk: Creating a system of care to support children with disabilities in accessing nature

For children with disabilities, accessibility to parks, play areas and nature is often viewed through the lens of physical access. While designing universally accessible spaces that accommodate all children’s enjoyment of the outdoors is critical, it’s only one tool to increase outdoor opportunities for children with disabilities and their families. 

In my professional life, I’m the Park Planning Manager at the City of Boulder. More importantly, I’m the father of three wonderful children (we all have our biases), one of whom experiences disability. My daughter Lydia is gentle, loves to eat lollipops and has a dark sense of humor. She also has approximately 50 to 100 seizures per day and is currently both nonverbal and mostly immobile.

Over the years, my daughter Lydia has taught me new ways of conceptualizing accessibility and has crucially influenced my professional work to remove both physical and hidden barriers to nature. I have learned, as a designer and user of outdoor spaces, that supporting families in gaining confidence and finding camaraderie is essential to this quest. My hope is that you will join me in creating or advocating for a system of care that better supports children with disabilities and their families in their enjoyment of the outdoors 

Into the wild with Lydia

A poem written by my son, Jack Davison, at 12 years of age. Jack describes our responsibility to make the best possible life for Lydia. It’s raw, real and does an important job of explaining the everyday hope and despair of life for families who have a child with a disability.

At the start of my family’s journey, the difficult emotions that I was dealing with in regards to Lydia’s medical condition were compounded by the physical effects of internalizing the stress and fear surrounding her care. For almost seven years, I struggled with symptoms of PTSD — something I later learned was quite common for parents who have children with medical complications. At a workshop for dads with children experiencing disability, the experience was compared to that of first responders, as we constantly respond to our children’s emergency needs — from daily events like seizures to complex events like brain surgery — 24/7, 365 days a year.

As a result, parents of children with disabilities are often left exhausted and overwhelmed. Juggling these complex issues with your children as you triage your way through each day makes it difficult to prioritize building a network of support for your child (and yourself and/or partner) — yet these networks are immensely helpful in creating access to the very thing that has been proven to massively benefit the mental health of families of children with disabilities: quality time spent in parks, accessing nature.

Why build kinship in nature?

With your senses fully engaged in the sounds, smells and touch of nature, and your mind relaxed as your arms and legs move at a gentle pace, it can feel easier to tackle challenging conversations. Over time, I’ve observed how being outdoors with other families opens up opportunities to discuss the challenges of raising a medically complex child with someone who can relate. These discussions, particularly when focused on coping mechanisms, can lead to a better understanding and acceptance of your child’s disability. 

“The camaraderie — knowing we are in this together while sharing our stories in nature — is beautiful. It gives me hope.”

For example: By working with friends and nonprofits, including the Anchor Center for the Blind and PEAK Parent Center, I plan monthly “Roll-n-Stroll” gatherings in Boulder, Colorado, with my colleague, Topher Downham. At these gatherings, families with children who experience disability enjoy morning coffee and treats at a trailhead, before strolling a few miles down an accessible trail. It’s a simple way to connect, get outside and share knowledge about innovative ways to access nature. It’s also a space where you may feel more comfortable talking about personal challenges, your mental health and the support you might need. You might get some stares, but you don’t care, as you’re part of a community.

The Roll-n-Stroll community poses for a photo.

For many parents, Roll-n-Stroll events also mark the first time they have ventured out into nature with their child, since medical complexities like feeding tubes, diaper changes and oxygen machines might make them hesitant to take on new environments — and I understand the hesitation! Harsh medical language like “medically fragile” sets you up for failure as a parent and does not consider how you can best support your child in living a full life. I still think about the day a doctor told me, “Lydia will die at a young age — her body is too fragile to cope.”

However, being in community with supportive, experienced and adventurous parents creates the confidence and support needed to try new things and access spaces that may have more physical barriers. As one Roll-n-Stroll parent eloquently reflected: “The camaraderie — knowing we are in this together while sharing our stories in nature — is beautiful. It gives me hope.”

The support and collective knowledge of the Roll-n-Stroll community has allowed us to expand our nature engagement into new realms. We now host gatherings year-round to experience every season, and we have added new activities like hand-powered biking. We have also invited our city council to join us at an event as part of a listening session and are even discussing how to host an overnight event.

Helping families activate their children’s “Wildometers”

Outdoor activities often involve risky play, a crucial element of healthy development. Denying the right to the “dignity of risk” can hinder a child’s personal growth, decrease self-esteem and reduce overall quality of life. Children with disabilities and their families should have the opportunity and support needed to engage in risky play and outdoor activities to whatever extent they desire — whether in a universally-designed greenspace or on an overnight camping trip.

In Boulder, Colorado, we are imagining how an interconnected system of support might help parents increase their children’s “Wildometers” — an important step in ensuring children with disabilities are afforded the dignity of risk.

A Wildometer describes the level to which a person is currently comfortable engaging in nature, and how they could increase their engagement with added support. For Lydia, our Wildometer started with exploring our backyard and street, increased to venturing out to our neighborhood parks, and then expanded into natural areas and, eventually, the wilderness.

I am happy to say Lydia’s Wildometer today has reached “Wilderness” level. However, it has taken two parents, two caring siblings, grandparents, five nurses, a wonderful school teacher, a few friends who help us (literally) push her over the barriers, and networks like the Roll-n-Stroll community. This level of support is rare — but it shouldn’t be. With increased understanding of the disability community and more intentional design of outdoor spaces, park planners and other practitioners can help reproduce Lydia’s robust system of care for families in their communities.

Below are a handful of ideas that can be used to help practitioners create a broader network of outdoor support for children with disabilities and their families. Pairing these ideas with accessible, universally-designed outdoor spaces will help families engage with all types of nature, giving them the support needed to push their Wildometers however far they want to go.

Ways to support children with disabilities and their families in the outdoors 

1. Include outdoor paraprofessional support: Paraprofessionals, the professionals legally required to support children with disabilities in schools, can help with things like diaper changes, feeding or a seizure event. What might outdoor recreation look like for children experiencing disabilities if a city staffed paraprofessionals in public parks, a play area or a trailhead at designated times? Parents could book appointment times and arrive at the place knowing there would be a person to help them care for their child’s basic needs.

2. Create place-based volunteer networks: One of Lydia’s friends, Geoffery Lockwood, runs The Lockwood Foundation. Geoffery’s nonprofit utilizes mobility equipment powered by volunteers to support children like Lydia in reaching a mountain peak, going fishing or enjoying a morning bird watch. The new lightness, adaptability and robustness of these devices, in combination with a network of volunteers, mostly university students, is opening up all new natural spaces to the disability community.

3. Prioritize intentional and universal design: In a recent conversation, Adam Bienenstock, founder and principal designer of Bienenstock Natural Playgrounds, explained that in parks dominated by gross motor skill equipment and fully paved surfaces, “only 20% of children engage with the space, while 80% remain on the outskirts. Play time in these areas lasts about 20 minutes before attention is lost.” In contrast, natural play settings can engage all children for over an hour. By activating fine motor skills, incorporating creative and collaborative spaces, and facilitating contemplative time, natural play areas can create significant opportunities for universal play. Learn more about universal design in this study by nationally renowned professor and researcher Dr. Louise Chawla and her colleague Catherine Hill. 

4. Incorporate sensory input: Sensory discoveries are critical for creating connections with nature, especially for children experiencing disability who may be relying on only one or two of the five main senses (typically thought of as sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch). According to Dr. Louise Chawla, sensory input informs our emotional responses and cognitive decision-making. A key element of nature connection includes “appreciation for nature’s sensory qualities and opportunities that nature affords for play, freedom, comfort and solace” (Chawla, 2020). If parks added multi-sensory experiences along trails and in play areas, there would be more opportunities for independent connection with nature for children relying on fewer senses, like Lydia.

5. Leverage environmental educators: We are fortunate to have a multi-sensory trail on Flagstaff Mountain in Boulder, Colorado. An environmental educator once led Lydia (who has cortical visual impairment) to a Ponderosa pine and demonstrated how when you press your nose against the tree bark, you can smell vanilla cookies! It made Lydia scrunch up her face in a joyful reaction. Environmental educators trained to facilitate sensory discoveries can help support children with disabilities and their families in achieving stronger emotional responses and improved cognition through sensory observation of nature and other techniques.

6. Involve the local community in park planning: Learning from those with lived experiences of disability is essential to creating a more accessible outdoors. Through pop-ups, programs and community picnics, Primos Park Project Manager Deryn Wagner and Growing Up Boulder Program Director Erin Saunders have fostered kinship and collaboration among city staff and the local community to design an all-accessible park. Deryn also expanded the city’s Community Connector Program, typically supporting racial equity, to include disability equity. Sarah Malin, Boulder’s first Community Connector focused on universal accessibility, has been crucial in conceptualizing how Primos Park can better meet community needs. Through community input, we aim to design an outdoor space that serves the whole community, with universal design incorporated into every facet of the park.

7. Implement “Individualized Nature Programs”: Thanks to her network, Lydia can enjoy the smells of plants in our local community garden every week, spend time with friends and family in nature at monthly Roll-n-Stroll gatherings, and, a few times a year, visit wilderness trails with the help of an adaptive mobility device and volunteers. For these options to be available in all cities for all children, we need a coordinated effort to support youth with disabilities in accessing a mycelium network of nature-based activities. In public schools, every child with a disability who receives special education must have an Individualized Education Program (IEP) — so why not an Individualized Nature Program (INP)? If cities established a Disability Equity Office, their staff could provide coordinated, universal access to parks and nature through INPs for all children with disabilities.

Nature revives and refreshes us: Why not all of us?

In order to access parks, play spaces and nature, disability can no longer be about fragility or being risk-averse. Universally, disability is wild and dynamic, full of novel mutations that allow for creativity and innovation — and require a supportive network. In the process of increasing my family’s Wildometer, I’ve learned that building this system of care takes time, hard work and numerous partnerships — but it’s achievable. This is a call to ensure that when you design, program or support access to nature, you never leave a child with a disability behind.

For my part, I have gained confidence in my role as Lydia’s father and as a member of the broader disability community. I deeply enjoy organizing monthly Roll-n-Stroll hikes with this community. Sometimes, we talk through difficult emotions and provide support for one another. Other times, we just embrace being in nature, enjoying the dappled light and the swaying canopy in a gentle wind — just as Lydia does.

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