Child Life Specialists Are Heroes

Closeup photo of a child wearing bright colored shirt, holding multiple crayons - too many crayons that some are falling out of their hands.

Content Warning: child's injury, and trauma

In a previous post, I shared some background on intrusive memories and PTSD. Fortunately, not all the memories I have of Ellie’s injury and healing are bad or disorienting in that same way. Entwined with all of the difficult and gut-wrenching memories are some sweet ones.

I recently opened a newsletter from the hospital foundation and saw a familiar face—the Child Life Specialist who turned a regular Elsa doll from their toy closet into a replica of Ellie, complete with a halo and trach tube. Mind you, this is not a regular part of the Child Life Specialist job description. I assure you that “medically correct toy designer” is deep into the “other duties, as assigned” section!

The article focused on the work of the Child Life team and why the hospital’s foundation supports their work. While it is not billable, hospitals that serve children often have small, mighty teams of Child Life Specialists who offer comfort, presence and joy to children and their families during difficult, painful, and confusing hospital moments.

Child Life Specialists come with iPads, magic wands (Lights! Fun sounds! Distraction!), toys that fit in a hospital bed, coloring books, and bubbles. Things that help kids to still be kids in the midst of medical things that can be scary and disorienting to grown-ups, let alone to kids. They offer conversation topics for parents that have nothing to do with procedures or surgeries or three-to-five-year survival rates. They ask about what a normal day looked like “before” or “at home.” A time and place that can feel very far away in a hospital room. They ask about beloved movies or toys, about pets, about favorite colors. They help decorate the room to make it feel less drab and more like a place where a kid might thrive.

One of their team photos was taken in the hallway in front of the room where Ellie stayed for the four weeks she was in the hospital. It was the room where friends brought meals that fed our bodies and came for visits that fed our souls. It was the room where we rode out the polar vortex. A room that we decorated with art, cards, prayers, and stuffed animals. It held the window where we watched helicopters come and go from the top of the building just above us.

Child Life Specialists are on the front line of reducing trauma for children who are receiving medical treatment that can cause the sort of pediatric medical traumatic stress that Alongside Network is working to alleviate and reduce. I am so grateful to know that this meaningful and important work is continuing should we need it again.


Written by Carina, who is a mother of a daughter who experienced a life-threatening spinal injury. Carina first participated in Alongside’s Wellbeing Group and has now successfully helped facilitate a Wellbeing Group as a facilitator with lived experience, and continues helping spread Alongside’s message.

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