Tiny Triumphs: Celebrating Milestones in a Body That Moves Differently

Milestones don’t always arrive on schedule.

Sometimes they tiptoe in quietly, long after the expected due date.

Sometimes they don’t arrive at all in the form we imagined—

but they do arrive,

in the unique rhythms and sacred ways of each individual body.

My daughter Kora took her time.

She needed boosts—literal and figurative—

to meet her milestones.

Crawling didn’t come easy.

She wobbled, shifted, and eventually found a uniquely lopsided scoot

that got her where she needed to go.

Her body was finding its own language—

its own way of building coordination,

balance,

trust.

It took time.

It took attention.

And it took celebration.

And now, that same little one?

She’s a radiant dancer.

A determined, powerful little gymnast

who flies across the floor with joy and poise—

all because her body was never forced to fit a mold.

It was supported, honored, and allowed to grow at its own pace.

And still, I know that for some children, like my beautiful niece Chloey,

those milestones may remain out of reach for longer.

Or forever.

And while there is grief in that truth,

there is also so much celebration.

Because every smile, every gaze, every connection,

every quiet triumph that unfolds inside a body

with its own timing

is worthy of recognition.

Even if it doesn’t check a box.

Even if no chart has a line for it.

In today’s world,

families with children who move, think, or process differently

face so much uncertainty.

Especially when accommodations are misunderstood,

when inclusion is not guaranteed,

when futures feel cloudy with policy shifts and narrow systems.

But let me say this clearly:

A child’s worth is not tied to their pace.

Their value is not diminished by their delays.

They are no less deserving of safety, support, and joy.

To every parent feeling the weight of it all:

I see you.

I know what it’s like to wonder, to ache, to cheer for what looks small to others

but feels like a mountain moved to you.

I know what it is to hold both grief and celebration in the same breath.

And I want you to know: your child is not behind.

They are becoming.

Their journey is unfolding.

Their body is learning.

Their story is valid.

So here’s to the tiny triumphs—

the first balanced step,

the longest belly laugh,

the calm moment after months of restlessness,

the first time a gaze holds steady.

These are the milestones that reshape us.

They’re the ones we feel deep in our bones.

Every child,

every body,

every unique path—

deserves to be witnessed, supported, and celebrated.

Especially the ones that move differently.

Especially the ones who take their time.

Because they are not less.

They are limitless in their own way.