The Kind of Parent Cerebral Palsy Helped Me Become
My mom has always been my superhero. I admired her steadfastness and ever-present care and affection in ways I didn't fully appreciate until I became a mom myself.
I remember thinking as a little girl, One day I'll be just like her.
What I didn't realize then was that I wouldn't become my mom in the way I expected. I'd become a mother shaped by my own journey with cerebral palsy (CP).
I'd always longed to be a mom. But for much of my life, I lived in denial about how much cerebral palsy shaped me. I pushed through the fatigue, pain, and struggle because I wasn't ready to admit
CP influenced how I did things. In my mind, I knew it was there, but it didn't really exist to me yet.
Until I became a mom. Then everything changed.
How Being a Parent With Cerebral Palsy Changed Me
Motherhood has a way of exposing all of your cracks and crevices in the most beautiful and terrifying way. It takes me back to the day we brought our daughter home from the hospital.
She was tiny, beautiful, and perfect. I was so afraid. It hit me then: when my husband went back to work, I'd be alone caring for our newborn for more than eight hours a day.
How was I going to do this? Could I even do this? I wasn't sure.
But I knew, with a clarity I'd never had before, that if I wanted to be the best mom I could be, I had to stop pretending cerebral palsy didn't affect me.
For the first time in my life, I had a reason bigger than myself to face my cerebral palsy.
- I had to learn to carry her in ways that worked for me.
- I had to find my own way to get her safely into her car seat.
- I couldn't ignore how cerebral palsy affected my body anymore.
- I had to acknowledge it.
- I had to understand it.
- I had to work with it, not against it.
Looking back now, I can see that accepting my cerebral palsy didn't just change how I cared for my daughters. It changed the kind of parent I became.
Living with CP had been teaching me lessons my entire life. I just didn't recognize them until motherhood gave them new meaning.
Looking back, I can see those lessons quietly shaped the values I bring to parenting every day.
Cerebral Palsy Taught Me That Different Doesn't Mean Wrong
I learned early in motherhood that what worked for some moms didn't always work for me.
As a newly postpartum mom trying to recover while caring for a newborn, I became painfully aware of every limitation I'd spent years pretending wasn't there.
I remember calling my mom in tears before taking my daughter somewhere by myself for the first time. I had barely slept because I was so anxious.
How was I going to get everything to the car? Could I carry the diaper bag and the infant car seat at the same time? I was barely six weeks postpartum, and I already felt like I was failing.
"Use the umbrella stroller," my mom told me. "Don't compare yourself to other moms. Find what works for Leeanne." So I did.
The stroller gave me a way to move everything we needed without trying to carry it all at once. It was a simple adjustment, but it gave me confidence that I could find solutions instead of limitations.
My mom's advice reminded me that doing things differently didn't mean I was doing them wrong.
I realized I didn't need to parent exactly like another mom to be a good mom. I just needed to find what worked for my family and for the body God had given me.
Looking back, I can see that's something cerebral palsy had been teaching me my entire life. Adaptation isn't giving up. It's finding another way forward.
If there's more than one way to love your child well, there's more than one way to be a good parent.
I share more of the adaptations that have made motherhood with cerebral palsy more accessible in my article on everyday accessibility tips.
Cerebral Palsy Taught Me Compassion for Myself and My Daughters
Cerebral palsy has been at the root of many of my greatest struggles. For much of my life, it felt like an unwelcome reminder that some things would always be harder for me than they were for other people.
But living with something I couldn't control also taught me what it feels like to struggle with limitations you never asked for.
When my oldest daughter began having difficulty expressing herself, she often melted down because she couldn't tell me what she needed. As her mom, it broke my heart to watch.
But as someone who understood the frustration of wanting to do something your mind was ready for while your body — or in her case, her words — couldn't quite keep up, I recognized something familiar.
Instead of seeing a behavior that needed to be corrected, I saw a little girl who needed understanding. I knew I had to meet her where she was, advocate for her, and get her the support she needed to succeed.
I couldn't take away her frustration, but I could make sure she never faced it without someone who understood.
Cerebral Palsy Taught Me to Celebrate Progress Over Perfection
At my core, I've always wanted to do everything well. For a long time, I measured myself by what I couldn't do or how far behind I felt compared to everyone else. Living with cerebral palsy often made it difficult to see how far I'd already come because I was so focused on everything I still couldn't do.
But the truth is, living with spastic CP taught me something I didn't fully appreciate until I became a mom: meaningful growth rarely happens all at once. Progress often comes one small step at a time.
Looking back, I realize that's how I've spent much of my life learning to navigate cerebral palsy.
Every new skill, every adaptation, and every challenge I learned to overcome was built on countless small victories that most people never saw. That perspective changed the way I parent.
When my oldest daughter began struggling with her expressive speech, it broke my heart. I could see how badly she wanted to communicate but didn't always have the words. There were days when the frustration overwhelmed her, and watching her struggle was incredibly hard.
Speech therapy was a gift to our family. When she started saying words like "cat," "milk," and "Mommy," I wasn't focused on all the words she still couldn't say. I celebrated every new word because I knew each one was another step toward where she wanted to be.
Living with cerebral palsy taught me that small victories aren't small at all. They're often the moments that quietly become life's biggest milestones.
Today, I try to celebrate progress instead of perfection — not only for my daughters, but for myself too. Growth doesn't have to happen quickly to be meaningful, and every step forward is worth celebrating.
Becoming My Own Kind of Mother
As a little girl, I thought becoming a good mom meant becoming exactly like mine.
My mom taught me what unconditional love looked like. Cerebral palsy taught me what that love sometimes requires: adapting, extending grace, celebrating small victories, and meeting people where they are.
I may not parent exactly the way my mom did.
But because of both her example and my own journey with CP, I'm becoming exactly the kind of mom my daughters need.
Written by:Leeanne WilliamsLeeanne Williams is a guest contributor for Cerebral Palsy Guide and an integral voice behind our living with CP series. As a writer, wife, and mom of two living with cerebral palsy, Leeanne shares honest stories about motherhood, family life, and community. Her work creates space for connection and real conversations about the impact of cerebral palsy.
