Post 70: Tell Me Something Good About Your Child
When was the last time someone asked you what's good about your child?
I don't mean how they're doing in therapy, or whether they're sitting yet, holding their head, eating enough or sleeping through the night. I mean what's good. The thing that makes them who they are.
If you're like most of the parents I work with, it's been a while.
Last week I opened a new round of the Head-to-Toe Bootcamp. Families joined from many countries and time zones. Some came on at eight in the evening after a long day. One parent joined from a parked car on a lunch break at work. Parents of toddlers sat next to parents who have been on this road for twenty years or more.
Before we talked about fascia, routines or goals, I asked everyone the same question.
Tell me something good about your child.
The List Can Wait
I know there is a list. Every parent of a child with cerebral palsy carries one. The diagnosis. The surgeries, the ones behind you and the ones being recommended. The medications, the equipment, the appointments, the forms. The things that changed. The things that stopped.
That list matters. I'll get to it with you, and it will shape everything I help you do with your hands.
But I never want it to be the first thing I learn about your child.
You spend so much of your life translating your child into that list. For doctors, for schools, for insurance, for therapists who have only just met them. After years of that, it makes sense if the list starts to feel louder than the child.
So I asked for one good thing. Just one.
What Came Back
Here is some of what I heard. I'm sharing it without names, because that call is a private space.
A boy whose laugh is so contagious nobody in the room can stay serious.
A little girl who brings other kids together to play, kids who might never have noticed each other without her.
A young man who wakes up happy every single morning.
A tiny rock star, full of energy even after the hardest nights.
A little one with what his parent called the oldest soul in the room.
A grandmother told us that people often say her grandson is lucky to have her. She always corrects them. She's the lucky one.
And I noticed something. Nobody said "but." Nobody added "...but he still can't sit." For a few minutes the list stepped aside, and the room filled with who these children actually are.
You could feel the shift. Parents who had arrived tired started to sound different. Lighter. A little more like themselves.
Hope Came Back Into The Room
Then the conversation turned to why each family was there. Over and over, what I heard was hope.
One mom said she believes in healing. She refuses to let a diagnosis decide everything about her child's future. Another mom said that should be the name of this group. I agree with her.
One mom told me she had joined my free classes many times and never felt ready. She felt too alone to take this on. This time she said, "I want to be ready." So she came.
Another shared that doctors and therapists look at her like she's crazy for wanting more for her child. She's done waiting for permission to hope.
And one mom carried something heavy into the call. A decision made months ago, and the thought that things might be different if she had found this sooner. I told her what I want every parent reading this to hear.
You did what you could with the tools you had, and you did it out of love. There is no going back. This is only from here. And from here, there is still so much you can do for your child.
I've been doing this work for more than 24 years. I see this happen in every round, and it still moves me. When parents feel seen, and their child is seen, hope comes back.
Why This Matters For Your Child's Body
You might be wondering what any of this has to do with fascia.
More than you'd think.
Fascia is the connective web that wraps and links every muscle, bone, organ and nerve in your child's body. It's one continuous network from head to toe. It holds tension and shares it. When one area tightens, the whole web adjusts around it. That's why I work with the whole body, gently, instead of pulling on one tight spot.
Fascia is also full of sensory receptors. It's constantly listening to pressure, speed, warmth and the quality of touch. Slow, calm, attentive input tends to invite the tissue to soften and reorganize. Rushed, forceful input tends to make the body brace.
Now think about your hands.
When you come to your child carrying the whole list, worried and trying to make something happen, your hands carry that too. They get faster and firmer. Children feel this right away, often before you do. Their body may tighten to protect itself, and you end up working against the very tension you're trying to ease.
When you come to the same child having just thought of their laugh, or the way they wake up happy, something changes in you first. Your breath slows and your hands soften. You're paying attention to them instead of to the problem.
That's the kind of touch fascia responds to.
In the CALM Framework, the "A" stands for Awaken Fibroblasts. Fibroblasts are the cells inside the fascia, and they may respond to gentle, consistent input by slowly remodeling the tissue. They don't need force. They need small movements to feed fascia, done with presence and repeated in a way your family can keep up.
So seeing what's good about your child is part of the therapy. It shapes the hands that do it.
Hope Is What Makes You Show Up
I want to be honest about hope, because I take it seriously.
I can't promise you a particular outcome. No one honestly can. Every child's body is different, and change comes at its own pace.
What I can tell you is what I see. The families who make progress are the ones who keep coming back to the routine, imperfectly. Ten minutes on a Tuesday, even when Monday fell apart.
And what keeps a parent coming back is hope.
When you believe there's still room for change, you show up. When you show up, small movements add up. When they add up, the body often starts to respond: a softer belly, an easier diaper change. Those little wins feed your hope, and the cycle keeps going.
Hope can live right next to the hard days. To me, it simply means refusing to close the door.
Your Child Doesn't Have To Prove Anything
Some parents on the call said they're here to prove everyone wrong. I understand that fire. So many of us have been told "never" about our children, and it's natural to want to answer back.
But I want to say this gently. Your child doesn't need to prove anything to be worthy. Their worth has nothing to do with how fast they progress or how many boxes they check on a chart.
The goal of this work is to support the body your child has, so they can live in it with more ease and comfort. Sometimes that looks like a new skill. Sometimes it looks like a child who sits more comfortably in their wheelchair, or rests more easily at night. Both count.
Try This Before Your Next Session
Here's one small thing you can do today. It takes less than a minute.
Before you start any therapy time with your child, pause. Rest your hands on them, still, without doing anything. Then name one good thing about them, silently or out loud. It can be something from this morning, or something you've known since the day they were born.
Take one slow breath, and begin.
Notice whether your hands feel different. Notice whether your child's body responds differently. You don't need to change anything else. Just notice.
If you keep a journal or a tracker, write the good thing next to whatever you worked on that day. Over a few weeks you'll have both side by side: the work you did, and the child you did it for.
You're Not Alone In This
If you've been feeling tired, or like you've lost some of your hope along the way, I want you to know it can come back. I watched it come back for a whole room of parents last week.
Your hands matter, and so does your belief. It's okay to start small.
If you'd like to begin learning how to use your hands this way, my short workshop is a gentle place to start. And if you're ready for guidance and a community of parents on this road with you, I'd love to hear about your child, starting with one good thing.
Ready to Start?
Take your first step into fascia therapy with our short, parent-friendly workshop:
The #1 Fascia Therapy To Improve Torso Control. I teach you the first exercise and how to make the binder so you can help your child today.
Gentle, effective, and easy to begin—no experience needed.
Want to Go Deeper?
If you’re ready to fully embrace this gentle approach and receive personalized support, apply for TheraParent Coaching—our therapeutic coaching program designed for dedicated parents like you.
Includes weekly calls, a tailored plan, and a supportive community.
Apply here – it’s free to explore.
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