Progress is Perfection
Jodi Shenal
I'm a stay-at-home mom with two amazing children. My son is on the Autism spectrum and my daughter has a rare genetic disorder and multiple disabil...
You won’t find some of us cheering in crowded stands, in unison with other parents.
You won’t hear us chanting our child’s name, as they score the winning homerun for their team in a baseball game.
You won’t see us sitting in an auditorium, excitedly awaiting our child’s name to be called for an Honors award.
For some of us, parenting doesn’t include applauding conventional childhood victories.
When your child has multiple disabilities and special healthcare needs, you passionately celebrate the little things. Parents like me clap for all the moments that we once took for granted; moments that now take our breath away.
Our baseball stands are therapy rooms. Our auditoriums are our living rooms and our classrooms.
You’ll find us giving standing ovations for gradual inches forward; strides that our children make in their everyday lives.
When daily living skills emerge before our eyes, like having success with potty training at age 14…
When faithful Occupational Therapy sessions give way to freedom in removing socks and hairbows, without any help…
When years of Physical Therapy bloom into taking three independent, unassisted steps…
When Feeding Therapy pays off after many trials and defeated attempts and the Teacher’s Assistant shares that your child ate a cupcake, not blended or pureed…
That’s when progress is perfection, to us.
It is magical. It is splendid. Every single inch forward is exquisite.
We’re told that special needs parents should strive for progress, not perfection. Our kids are PERFECT to us, and their developmental breakthroughs solidify the depths of their strength and tenacity.
These are our BIG moments. We don’t need the winning goal or hit. We don’t worry about straight A’s or perfect attendance. We’re not preoccupied with striving to be the “best.” We just want our children to flourish and be the best that they can be. That’s all we could ever wish for. They are enough, without any medals, trophies, or ribbons.
They are brave.
They are determined.
We are lucky to have a front row seat to their lives. Witnessing their progress in areas in which they’ve worked so tirelessly is the most rewarding. We are their cheerleaders, forever. In all that they achieve, we see sweet perfection.
