Living With CP: The Small Wins That Mean Everything
Comparison is a thief, stealing joy before we even have the chance to celebrate our own victories. And yet, for much of my life, it colored my accomplishments, exciting milestones, and dreams for the future.
Diagnosed with cerebral palsy before I was even two years old, I spent years asking myself questions I didn't even realize I was carrying:
- Am I doing enough to belong?
- How do I measure up?
- Should I be doing more?
I held myself to impossible standards because I wasn't measuring my life by what truly mattered to me. Instead, I was measuring it against who I thought I should be.
Eventually, I realized I had been looking at the wrong milestones.
The Milestones We Never Celebrate
The moments that changed me weren't always the biggest ones. They were the quiet victories that reminded me I was capable, growing, and living a full life on my own terms.
It's easy to overlook these moments — to believe they don't matter because they aren't the milestones everyone else celebrates.
But living with cerebral palsy has taught me that some of life's greatest victories aren't measured by applause or recognition. They're measured by what they make possible.
Comparison Almost Stole My Joy
Sometimes, a small win means having enough energy to stay at the park a little longer with your kids. Other times, it's noticing that a task that once felt overwhelming now feels routine.
It may not look remarkable to anyone else, but to you, it's evidence that you're adapting, persevering, and continuing to build a life that reflects your own goals — not someone else's expectations.
It reminds me of when my second daughter was born. I wanted so badly to be the mom who made everything look effortless.
Both girls are crying? That's okay. They both want to be held? I can do that. But that wasn't my story. That's not my motherhood.
Every mom wrestles with comparison sometimes. For me, cerebral palsy amplified that voice. It constantly whispered I should be able to do more. In the dark, quiet moments, it convinced me that my motherhood wasn't enough.
I started to think, "If I can't do it her way, it's because I'm not trying hard enough. Or maybe I'm just not good enough."
Shame convinced me that ordinary victories didn't count.
Does it count if no one else notices?
Does it count if it never makes the highlight reel?
Yes, it does.
I started asking myself why my motherhood had to look like everyone else's.
Who was I trying to prove something to?
Myself.
For so long, I believed that if I just tried harder, did more, or made motherhood look effortless, I'd finally feel like I belonged. But all I was really doing was chasing someone else's definition of success.
The Quiet Victories That Changed My Motherhood
The truth is, the moments that have shaped me most as a mom haven't been the ones anyone else applauded.
- Adapting when I needed to
- Finding new ways to care for my daughters
- Asking for help without shame
And realizing that showing up with love matters more than doing everything the way I imagined I would.
I think back to my first outing solo with both babies. Two under two, tired, nervous, and mentally exhausted, I packed the kids up and went to get coffee. It sounded small, but it showed me it could be done.
I could do it, even if I was afraid.
Small Wins Become Your New Normal
And then slowly, getting out of the house with two kids became my new routine. It didn't happen overnight, but what once scared me became my new normal.
That's the funny thing about small wins. They rarely feel life-changing in the moment.
But enough of them, strung together over time, quietly change your life.
Celebrate the Victories No One Else Sees
Living with cerebral palsy has taught me that some of life's greatest milestones don't come with applause. They happen in ordinary moments that remind us we're capable, resilient, and growing.
Those small wins may never make the highlight reel.
But they're the ones that changed my life.
