Have you ever opened a fresh planner and thought about all the things that you’ll do differently this year? Me too. There’s something about a blank page that I find exciting and inspiring. I love thinking about the big things I want to do in a new year and the milestones I want to hit. Milestones are important. But inchstones are better.
Inch stones are all the little steps that add up over time to help you reach the milestone. I used to think of progress only in big terms. The difference had to be immediately noticeable, or it didn’t count. Like so many things where I thought I had it all figured out, I had kids and realized how much I needed to learn.
I have three amazing boys: Walter, Oscar, and Arthur. They’re all unique, and they teach me every day. I love being their mom and watching them grow. Walter is our oldest, and when he was a little over a year old, he was diagnosed with a rare genetic condition- Bainbridge Ropers Syndrome. At the time, there were only 150 people globally who shared his BRS diagnosis; now we’re a community of about 300 people and their families. The diagnosis means that he deals with a variety of delays compared to his typical peers. Some are physical, some are cognitive, some are emotional and social.
When Walter was little, we looked for all the milestones. When did he roll over, sit up, start walking, say his first words, etc.? Some of those milestones didn’t happen for a long time. He took his first steps when he was four. Some of those milestones still haven’t happened. Walter is nonverbal, for now, so we haven’t heard his first words. We’ve heard his voice plenty, though, and it’s wonderful.
At first, it was easy to get concerned or discouraged that things weren’t happening when they were “supposed to.” But then one day, we stopped waiting for Walter’s milestones. They’ll happen when they’re supposed to, when the timing is right for him. Not my plan- but it never really is, is it? Instead, we started to embrace the little things that reminded us that even slow progress is still progress.
Walter took five steps, then ten, then he walked down the driveway, then he used the steps to get on the school bus all on his own. Even his bus driver cried happy tears that day. The video we shared on Facebook of him doing it reminded us how many people are cheering him on and cheering us on, too.
We celebrate everything. The first jump, the first clear communication, the first laugh at a real joke, the first game played, the first time a marker is used correctly, and the cap put back on, sure that drawing was on the wall, but it came off… mostly.
Seeing the impact small steps have on how he learns new skills has challenged how I approach things. What if I don’t have to get it right the first time? What if I allow myself the chance to learn, practice, and improve over time? Sometimes when we’re teaching our kids, we need to learn the lessons too.
It’s easy to get caught up in thinking about what’s missing and what hasn’t happened yet. We did that for a long time with Walter. There were constant reminders about what “should” be happening for him and with him, and that just wasn’t our reality. It was unfair to focus on what was lacking, and if we’d continued down that path, we would have unfairly limited his progress. We could have missed all the excitement of the inch stones while waiting for the milestones.
When Walter laughs, really laughs, it’s a full-body, deep from his belly laugh, and it’s impossible not to at least smile when he’s doing it. When his face lights up, and his attention is hooked by a new song or a favorite cartoon, it’s pure magic. He surprises himself, and his smile in those moments is absolute pride and confidence. There’s nothing like watching him strut into his classroom and high-five his teachers.
We could have missed all that. We could have allowed ourselves to stay in a place where his difference was seen as a series of limitations. We still have those. He can’t play as long as some of his peers, he’s easily overwhelmed by crowds and noise, and he needs to stop regularly throughout the day to eat through his feeding tube. Those details are part of our family life, and we’ve gotten great at working with them and making sure that Walter has the accommodations he needs while Oscar and Arthur still have opportunities to do what they want to do and be more involved with their friends.
Progress isn’t about how fast you go or how perfect each step is—it’s about staying on the path, no matter how winding it becomes. Remember, it’s about inchstones, not milestones.
So, what small step will you celebrate today?
