Mr. Strong Foundation, Inc.

11/20/2025

WELCOME BOOMER 🐶 There’s a new kind of caregiver at Johns Hopkins All Children’s Hospital. She has four paws, a wagging tail, and a whole lot of love. https://www.wfla.com/bloom-tampa-bay/bloom-children/new-four-legged-caregiver-brings-comfort-to-johns-hopkins-all-childrens-hospital/

11/19/2025

Coastal Christian Church has a fun and *totally free* North Pole Experience every year, and this year we teamed up with to help them create a sensory friendly night!🎄🎅

There will be:
- limited signups
- headphones, if needed
- calm corner area
- free gifts 🎁
- a chance to meet Santa 🎅
- fun Christmas activities

It’s so much fun and we go almost every year. ❤️

⭐️The event is on Friday, December 5th and there are 2 slots to sign up— link in bio to register!

11/17/2025

Every year, 13.4 million babies are born prematurely. Prematurity remains one of the strongest risk factors for cerebral palsy, and up to 45% of children with CP are born preterm.

Around the world:
• 1 million premature babies die each year, mostly from preventable causes.
• Babies in low-resource settings are up to 8× more likely to die or live with lifelong disability.
• Early detection and early intervention can change outcomes — but far too many families still don’t have access.

At the Cerebral Palsy Foundation, we are committed to advancing prevention, scaling early detection, and ensuring every baby has the strongest possible start.

Learn more about how CPF supports early detection and intervention through our network and training opportunities at https://www.cerebralpalsyfoundation.org/edi-education-training/

11/16/2025

10/27/2025

Come and hop on the Energy Bus with our amazing staff and students at Nina Harris ESE Center in beautiful Pinellas Park, FL.! This song was inspired by the i...

10/20/2025

Lego’s MRI scanner play sets, which launched in 2023, are significantly reducing anxiety and the use of sedation in children, the company said. cnb.cx/4h9YyXW

10/18/2025

10/16/2025

Some kids won’t say “trick or treat.”
Not because they’re rude. Not because
their parents didn’t teach them manners.
But because they can’t.

Some are shy. Some are nonverbal. Some
are overwhelmed by the lights, the costumes, the noise all the things that make Halloween “fun” for others.

So when a little one just holds out their
bucket, smile anyway. Drop in the candy.
Tell them they look awesome. Because for
some of these kids, just showing up at your
door took everything they had 🎃

10/15/2025

Being a medically complex parent means living in two worlds at once:

One where love is as deep and fierce as any parent’s, and another where that love is constantly measured in medical terms such as millilitres, oxygen saturation, dosages, developmental milestones, and the number of nights spent under hospital lights.

It means being caregiver and an advocate, a nurse and a researcher, a comforter and a parent.

You learn to pronounce words you never thought you’d need to know and somehow they become part of your everyday language.

It means you carry a silent duality.

You are grateful for every small victory.

But you also grieve quietly for the life you imagined before you learned what “medically complex” meant.

You live on alert.

You know the sounds of your child’s breathing better than your own heartbeat.

You can tell from a flicker in their eyes if something’s off.

You know what to do in a crisis because you’ve had to do it, even when your own heart was breaking.

You develop a strange resilience. The kind that doesn’t come from strength, but from necessity.

Because there is no option to quit.

Your child’s world depends on you being calm when the room is chaos, strong when your knees are shaking, and composed when your soul is screaming.

Being a medically complex parent means losing the luxury of normal but gaining a perspective most people never touch.

You learn that life isn’t measured by milestones on a chart, but by moments of connection, safety, and presence.

You find family in other parents walking this same hard road, people who understand that love and exhaustion can coexist, that fear and gratitude often arrive hand in hand.

At the core, it means this:
You love harder.
You fight louder.
You feel deeper.

And you carry both the beauty and the burden of a life that demands everything from you.

Written by: Carla Moore from Payton's Path

10/11/2025

I am a Special Needs Mum - and sometimes, I’m not okay.

Today is World Mental Health Day and,

maybe you’ll understand this. Maybe you won’t.
Maybe you’ve felt it too, or maybe your story looks different.
But if your thoughts have ever resembled mine, I want you to know something -

you’re not alone here. I’m in this too.

I have a child this world doesn’t always understand.
A child who can’t always tolerate the world around him - crowds, shops, noise, newness, even the simplest tasks on some days.
A child who’s tightly strung and highly anxious.
Who loses it loudly and suddenly.
Who needs help with everything - self-care, mobility, communication, and the scariest one of all: safety.

I have a child who runs.
Who acts on impulse, without fear or awareness.
Who lives on adrenaline most of the time.
And yes - a child who can be aggressive. Who can hurt himself and others.
Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks.

And the world? The world thinks that’s on me.
That his behaviour is a reflection of my poor parenting, my lack of discipline, my failure.
That’s what they say.

But the heaviest part isn’t the judgment. It’s the thoughts.
The constant what ifs.
The who will take care of him when I’m gone? loop that never stops.
That’s the weight that breaks me some days.

I get hurt. I get worn out. I worry too much.
I run on empty for too long.
I rarely sleep.
And my dreams, my goals, my self-care - they’re often the first to go.

Some days, I’m not okay.
Some days, I don’t want to keep going.
Some days, I feel broken, lost, and completely crushed.
Some days, the heaviness swallows me whole.

This life doesn’t have an off switch.
It’s every minute, every day, for the longest haul.

But I want you to know, Mama - I see you.
I feel it too. It’s hard. It’s relentless.

And - you matter.
Your mental health matters.
It’s not selfish to care for yourself - it’s essential.
Because when you’re not okay, nothing else stands steady.

So please, be good to you. Not just for one day - every day you can.
Find the smallest space to rest, to breathe, to recover, to do something that’s just for you.

It’s okay to not be okay - but it’s not okay to stay there.

Take care of you, because you’re the heartbeat of it all.

Love,
Christine | Special Soul Mama

©️ Please share directly. Thank you for honouring the heart behind these words.