What is a milestone, really?
Before kids, a milestone to me meant a job promotion, another year added to a relationship, or a new trip checked off the bucket list. Milestones were achievements you could post about, share in a group text, or toast to with champagne.
Then we had Hudson.
Suddenly, “milestone” meant crawling, walking, and hitting all the right markers at those precious wellness checkups. It felt like an ongoing assessment of our parenting abilities—at least in my mind. And if I’m being honest, the pride I felt when Huddy reached those goals months ahead of schedule? It bordered on stage mom territory.
Flash forward to Archie.
Even before he arrived, Corey and I had long conversations about how important it was to never compare him to his big brother. We didn’t want Hudson to feel replaced, or Archie to grow up constantly in his shadow. That intention was clear, but life had other plans.
At just three weeks old, Archie rolled over during tummy time. Corey and I locked eyes, totally shocked. Was our second baby a little prodigy too? We had no idea that early roll was a red flag—something called hypotonia, which could be linked to cerebral palsy or, as we eventually learned, AHC (Alternating Hemiplegia of Childhood).
That was the beginning of a new understanding of milestones—or maybe, the unraveling of the old one.
Over the past few months, we’ve been doing physical therapy, comparing Archie’s progress to other AHC stories, and trying to piece together what the future might look like for his gross motor skills. And I’ll admit, we’ve spent a lot of that time worrying. Measuring. Hoping.
But in all that comparison, we kept missing what was right in front of us.
Archie thrives socially. When I say he was born smiling, I’m almost underselling it. He’s been alert, bright-eyed, and a total social butterfly from day one. At a recent appointment with a developmental pediatrician, we arrived with a laundry list of questions: Should we ramp up physical therapy to four times a week? Where should we push hardest? Do we need to start speech therapy already?
The doctor listened and then paused. And what he said next shifted everything.
He told us that Archie is unique, and instead of racing the milestone clock, we should lean into his strengths—especially his fine motor skills.
Sure, maybe Archie isn’t rolling over, crawling, or able to start solids at nine months. But he’s smiling at everyone, belly laughing, showing stranger danger (which is developmentally appropriate!), banging blocks together, and reaching for his brother’s Hot Wheels.
For us, in a world shaped by AHC, where every missed milestone can feel like a mountain—we finally got to exhale.
We were reminded that these are milestones too.
Maybe not the kind you read about in baby books. But they’re ours. And they are full of joy, light, and hope. Even with a degenerative neurological condition, Archie is showing us that happy milestones do exist—just in their own time, and on their own terms.