Adrian’s Story: A Light in the Darkest Moments after traumatic brain injury

Adrian is a two-year-old boy who loves his family, Elmo, and dinosaurs. He gives the best hugs, loves with his whole heart, and has always been the sweetest, most vibrant part of our family. Born healthy and “typical,” Adrian was the missing piece that made our family of four complete. With two children under three, we were navigating the joyful chaos of early parenthood.

We never imagined that just shy of six months old, Adrian would suffer trauma.
We never imagined nearly losing our son.
We never imagined the intensive care unit—or a future that suddenly looked nothing like the one we had pictured.

But that became our reality when Adrian suffered a traumatic brain injury in infancy due to Non-Accidental Trauma, also known as Shaken Baby Syndrome (SBS).

In a single moment, everything changed.

I remember the silence in the hospital room after the doctors explained what had happened.
I remember the ache of unanswered questions.
I remember time standing still as we tried to understand what this would mean for our family—for our sweet boy who hadn’t even begun to discover the world around him.

Shaken Baby Syndrome is devastating.
It shatters normalcy.
It fractures trust.
It leaves families in shock, in survival mode, unsure of how to move forward—or where to turn.

But even in the darkest moments, Adrian became our anchor. His strength, even in the smallest movements and softest breaths, showed us what it means to fight. He has endured neurological procedures, pediatric therapies, and the long, slow road of traumatic brain injury recovery with more grace and courage than we ever thought possible.

Adrian’s life is not defined by what happened to him.
It’s defined by his resilience.

He smiles with his whole soul. He finds joy in the simplest of moments. And every day, he teaches us what hope really means—not the kind of hope that longs for a different past, but the kind that embraces what is and still believes in what can be.

When Adrian was first injured, doctors told us he might not survive—and if he did, he would likely never walk, talk, or eat by mouth. He was expected to rely on a ventilator for life.

Adrian does have a tracheostomy and a G-tube—but today, he no longer uses a ventilator or his feeding tube. He eats on his own, walks, talks, and has recently discovered just how funny burps and farts can be. He continues to amaze us—along with his doctors, therapists, friends, and family.

This journey hasn’t been easy—for Adrian, his older brother, my husband, or me. We’ve often felt isolated, trying to navigate life with a disabled or medically complex child while longing for a sense of connection and community.

Almost a year after Adrian’s injury, I attended a retreat for caregivers of medically complex children with The Apricity Hope Project—a nonprofit for families like ours. For caregivers navigating the complicated, emotional, and often invisible world of caring for children with life-limiting conditions, developmental disabilities, and trauma-related medical needs.

We know how isolating it can feel.
We know how easy it is to lose yourself in the appointments, the trauma, and the fear.
And we know how deeply important it is to feel seen, supported, and understood.

If your family has been affected by Shaken Baby Syndrome, or if you are caring for a child with a life-altering diagnosis, please know: you are not alone. Your pain is valid. Your love is powerful. And your story matters.

At AHP, we believe in building warmth in the coldest seasons of life. We believe in honoring your grief while holding space for your strength. And we believe that through connection, care, and community, healing for caregivers is possible.

Adrian is our daily reminder of that truth.

With all my heart,
Christi Rose
Vice President, The Apricity Hope Project & Proud Mama to Adrian and Roman

This post is part of our Real Lives, Real Love Series, a storytelling project from The Apricity Hope Project. Here, we share real stories from caregivers raising disabled or medically complex children — stories filled with grit, grace, laughter, and love. Because diagnoses don’t define our kids, our families, or our stories — love does.

Want to share your story? Email us at hello@apricityhope.org.