Discover the faces that bring the Make-A-Wish mission to life.
Our greatest asset is the commitment of our volunteers. From the operational team to the foundation board, everyone generously gives their time, skills, and heart to transform the lives of sick children. Together, we form a family united by the same passion: creating magic.
On a daily basis, these passionate individuals dedicate their time to coordinating, organizing, and bringing each wish to life. Their volunteer commitment is the driving force that transforms dreams into reality.
General Manager (100%)
“Seeing a sick child smile and giving meaning to my work is what motivates me every day at Make-A-Wish.”
Wish coordinator for French-speaking Switzerland and Ticino (80%)
"The contagious joy of the children and their families makes each wish unique. It's a privilege to contribute to these magical moments."
Wish coordinator for French-speaking Switzerland and Ticino (60%)
"Knowing that we bring happiness and magic to children and their families is an inexhaustible source of motivation."
Fundraising & Marketing Manager (100%)
"Everything you can imagine is real" – Picasso. I help transform children's imaginations into real fairy tales.
Regional Manager for German-speaking Switzerland & Liechtenstein (50%)
"Building bridges between regions so that no child is forgotten is my mission within this wonderful family."
Regional Manager for German-speaking Switzerland & Liechtenstein (80%)
"Every child deserves happiness, love and positive experiences. We work hard everyday to make this reality for as many children as possible."
Administrative volunteer
“Being part of a team that changes the lives of sick children is an enriching experience. Every wish deeply touches the volunteers as well.”
Administrative volunteer
"Touched by a wish granted at my workplace, I wanted to give back. Collaborating with Make-A-Wish is a true joy!"
The members of our foundation board voluntarily contribute their expertise and network to our mission. Together, they ensure that every franc donated is used to create magic for children.
Vice President
"As the mother of a disabled child, I know that every moment of happiness is a source of energy. My international legal expertise is at the service of children."
President of Make-A-Wish Switzerland
"After years of granting wishes, joining the board was a natural step. My network in finance now serves this wonderful cause."
Treasurer
"As a tax lawyer and mother, I ensure that every donation is used optimally to bring maximum joy to sick children."
Volunteer member
"40 years of medical experience have shown me that a happy child tolerates treatments better. I am committed to ensuring that every child can fulfill their wish."
Volunteer member
"My volunteer work on the board helps ensure that our foundation remains true to its mission: transforming lives, one wish at a time."
Volunteer member
“Volunteering to contribute to the governance of Make-A-Wish means taking concrete action to create smiles on the faces of courageous children.”
Volunteer member
"Putting my skills at the service of the council is my way of contributing to the building of this magnificent organization."
Our referring physicians provide their medical expertise to ensure that every wish is fulfilled safely. Their advisory role is essential to assess the eligibility of children and to adapt wishes to their medical situation.
Former Head of Neurology, CHB Bienne
Medical Director HUG and Head of Pediatrics
Former head of pediatric surgery, CHUV
Director of the Neonatology Division, HUG
Oncologist, Lugano/Bellinzona Hospitals
Oncologist, Inselspital Bern
Head of Pediatric Clinic, CHB Bienne
Head Physician Hematology-Oncology, UKBB Basel
Director of the Oncology/Hematology Center, St. Gallen Hospital
Registered Nurse (RN), Zurich Children's Hospital
Beyond the faces shown on this page, it's an entire community of generous hearts that keeps Make-A-Wish going. More than 120 volunteers across Switzerland and Liechtenstein. they give their time, energy and passion to make children's dreams come true.
Behind every blue t-shirt is a person like you, who has decided that giving a little of their time is worth all the treasures in the world. Whether you are a student, retiree, parent, working professional… whatever your background, it’s your heart that counts.
Join this wonderful family and discover how rewarding it is to see a child's face light up. Your involvement, in whatever form it takes, will make a difference.
wishes granted since our creation
A marathon run, a bake sale organized, a birthday party turned into a fundraiser… Every initiative has the power to offer hope to a seriously ill child. Whatever your idea, together we will transform it into children's smiles.
Your commitment transforms dreams into reality. No matter how you give, your initiative becomes their magical moment. Donate today to offer hope and courage to those who need it most.
Somewhere, a child closes their eyes and imagines their dearest wish. Your action today can transform that dream into reality tomorrow.
An interview about courage, family, and inner strength
Mother of a Wish Kid — wish granted in 2017 · speaker and author
Interview by Michelle Schmocker (Make-A-Wish) · February 13, 2026 · translated from German
Carolin Oder is a speaker, mentor, and author with an inspiring message: even in the most difficult times, there is the strength to grow and rediscover the joy of life. Shaped by her own experience and the deep conviction that strength often arises where life tests us, she developed the "GENAUSO Principle"—seven paths to inner strength. Today, she supports those going through a crisis, helping them embrace it and emerge stronger. Her heart goes out to caregivers, often invisible yet so essential. In 2017, her eldest son's dearest wish came true thanks to Make-A-Wish Switzerland—a life-changing experience that continues to sustain her family today.
"Hope is not a feeling. Hope is a decision."
My life now revolves around two things: my professional fulfillment—which I consciously chose at the beginning of 2023—and my children. At 13 and 16, my boys still need me. And L.'s illness.1 This means I remain very present. It's normal, and it's right. He has become much more independent and makes his own decisions, but I continue to provide him with structure and guidance.
I'm trying to find a good balance. And at the same time, I make it very clear: if anything happens to her, then she will be my absolute priority. Everything else takes a back seat—including my professional development. And perhaps that's my truth today: these two aspects have the right to exist side by side—my role as a mother and my own life.
Much more than I would have thought possible. My family can clearly feel how good this newfound fulfillment is for me. I've become calmer, more serene. I live much more in the here and now, and much less in future scenarios often dictated by fear.
The effect is immense. My fears of loss have significantly diminished—and with them, the daily stress. I'm not the only one who feels this relief: my children and my husband do too.
With the younger brother, it was a long and difficult time. He felt that I devoted more time and energy to the older one. From this arose a very painful feeling: that of being, as the younger and healthy child, less visible. For over a year—he was eleven—I heard him say to me almost every night, "You love L. more than me." It tore me apart inside.
We sought support and guidance. I learned to look at things more consciously—not just to react, but to actively act to restore balance. I always believed I gave him enough love. But I understood one thing: feeling it isn't enough; you also have to make it visible and tangible.
It took a lot of energy. And honestly, for a long time, it didn't really work. It wasn't until I started to put myself more at the center again that things changed. With my own stability came more peace throughout the entire family system. Before, I would jump when the phone rang—fearing that something had happened. Now, that's no longer the case. And that relief—for all of us—is priceless.
Yes. Very clearly. That was the day of the diagnosis. For seven years, we simply held on. We reacted, we organized, we found solutions — but we never knew why all this was happening.
He was born in Germany, and doctors very early on looked for a genetic cause—without success. When he was fifteen months old, we emigrated to the United States. Today, I know that life—or the universe—led us to San Francisco. There, they discovered cervical vertebral instability—a chance discovery. A neurosurgeon stabilized it during four major operations. There, too, the search continued—again without success.
Back in Switzerland, at the Zurich Children's Hospital, the diagnosis came in 2017: Loeys-Dietz syndrome2And we were lucky—I'm very aware of that now. The geneticists knew exactly what to look for. Many parents aren't so lucky. Many families search for answers for years—some never find them. We got ours. In four weeks.
And that answer was hard to take: a potentially fatal connective tissue disease. A glimpse of a future we could never have imagined. And yet—in hindsight—it was precisely that diagnosis that saved her life.
Two years later, when L. had just turned nine, he suffered an aortic dissection.3Something that normally doesn't happen in a child of that age. We spent 32 days in the cardiac and vascular surgery intensive care unit at the University Hospital of Zurich. In two major operations, his aorta was replaced with prosthetic material.
Without the 2017 diagnosis, our son would not be with us today. This is a reality that still deeply affects me. Because it was precisely at that moment that we understood: this knowledge was not just a simple diagnosis—it was the reason why our child survived.
I was already familiar with the Make-A-Wish Foundation in the United States, through the children's hospital where we were being treated—probably thanks to a leaflet. After the diagnosis, one thing was immediately clear to me: L. had already been through so much—he deserved to have his dearest wish granted.
I asked him, "If you could wish for anything—really anything—what would it be?" And he replied, "I would like to meet Álvaro Soler."4“Honestly, I was completely overwhelmed—I didn’t even know him and I was like, ‘Couldn’t he have said Taylor Swift?’ (laughs) Then I listened to his music and realized, ‘Oh yeah, I know him, I’ve heard him on the radio.’ Make-A-Wish then made this meeting possible.”
For L., this moment was simply magical—but for us too, as a family. That feeling of being able, for a fleeting moment, to forget everything: the worries, the fear, the responsibilities. What you offer isn't just experiences. It's moments of lightness. Memories that last. And it's precisely for families of sick children that these moments are invaluable.
Because I broke myself in the process. In 2022, the collapse happened: caregiver burnout and post-traumatic stress disorder. For years, I held on, carried, organized, and was strong—for my child, for my family. And, in doing so, I completely ignored how it was doing to me.
I was always told, "You're so strong." And I ended up believing it myself—until the day I couldn't anymore. And that's precisely the problem: often, we're only noticed when we break down.
That's what I want to change. I want it to happen sooner. I want people—and especially caregivers—to be supported before they reach their limits. To that end, I seize every opportunity offered to me in the German-speaking world.
When I started sharing my story, I realized how many people identified with it. That feeling of the ground shifting beneath your feet, the constant burden, the uncertainty—so many people know this. And if I can reach even one person who takes a step back and seeks help so they don't get lost, then every minute of my work is worthwhile.
To be seen. Truly seen. Not just as "the strong mother," but as a person. I wish someone had asked not just, "How is your child?" but also, "And how are you—really?" And not just once. Not just during acute crises. But also in the quiet moments, in between, when everything seems fine and peaceful.
I wish I'd had someone to guide me—a mentor, a framework, tools I only learned to give myself years later: breathing exercises, mindfulness, stress management, mental stability. Things that don't change the situation itself, but the way you experience it.
And I would have loved a community. People who understand without me constantly having to explain. Who know what these waves are like: it's okay—and then it tips again. That's precisely what I want to convey today as a mentor.
Right now, he's doing well. And that's something I'm very consciously aware of—something I no longer take for granted. What touches me most is his inner strength.
Recently, on the way to the children's hospital, he naturally started talking about his future. And he said, "I think I'm a good person." I asked him why. And he replied: because he's kind, considerate of others, not stupid—and because, later on, he'll take good care of himself.
At that moment, I understood: he's thinking about his future—without fear. He didn't say a word about the illness. That deeply moved me. We tried, very early on, to instill in him this forward-looking outlook—this confidence in life. And for him to express it today, at 16, of his own accord, was a gift.
His psychiatrist also confirms that he doesn't have a fear of death—even though he knows exactly what it is. The fears, and also the traumas, lie with us, the parents. In recent months, he has become incredibly independent. At the same time, the medical challenges remain: major surgery on his lower spine is being considered. His carotid artery is changing in a worrying way. And with each examination, we hope that nothing new will be discovered.
Physically, he's different from other kids his age—precisely at an age when appearance matters so much. It's not always easy for him. But overall, we're in a good period right now. My husband and I still make a good team—that's no small feat either. Eighty percent of couples under constant strain don't survive it. And the relationship between the two brothers is, right now, wonderful. It's moments like these that sustain us.
I have no advice to give—these parents are already giving everything, anyway. But I would like to remind them of one thing: hope is essential. Hope is not a feeling. Hope is a decision.
In these situations, hope doesn't come easily. It's not always there. You don't wake up every morning feeling it automatically. There are days when it's very faint. And days when it's almost imperceptible. But it's precisely then that I make this decision, fully aware of it.
I choose to keep hoping—even without knowing how it will end. Even when I'm afraid. Even when I have no control over what comes next. For me, hoping doesn't mean everything will be alright. Hoping means believing I'll be able to face whatever comes my way. That we'll find a way—one way or another.
And at the same time, there's something absolutely crucial that goes with it for me: self-care. I like to compare it to the image of a water bottle. Imagine you have a water bottle. You drink from it yourself—but you're also constantly giving back from its contents: love, strength, support, responsibilities, decisions. And the problem is that many of us just give, without even noticing that our bottle is emptying. But when your bottle is empty, you can no longer take care of yourself or the person you love.
That's precisely why it's up to you to fill this bottle, again and again. With simple things: a walk, a conversation, a moment for yourself. But also with structure and tools. Not because it's a nice "extra"—but because it's necessary. I myself didn't understand this for far too long. And then one day, the message hit me. That's why it's so important to me now to pass it on.
For me, hope and self-care go hand in hand. And I make this decision every day, again and again: for myself, for my child, for my family—and perhaps for others as well. Because I know how precious it is when someone, in dark times, offers a glimmer of hope. Perhaps that's exactly what I want to be: a bearer of hope.
1 The boy's first name has been shortened by the editorial staff.
2 Loeys-Dietz syndrome (LDS) : a rare genetic disease of the connective tissue (1 case per 100,000) that affects the entire body, but primarily affects the blood vessels. The aorta, in particular, can dilate or rupture — which, without treatment, can be fatal within days.
3 Aortic dissection : a tear in the inner wall of the aorta, which causes a potentially life-threatening acute situation and requires immediate medical attention.
4 Alvaro Soler is a German-Spanish singer-songwriter who achieved international fame with his summery pop music. He reached stardom in 2015 with the hit "El mismo sol", followed by other successes like "Sofia".