I remember the exact moment it hit me—this life we’re living isn’t normal.
But here’s the thing—it wasn’t some dramatic hospital moment, an earth-shattering diagnosis, or anything you’d expect. Nope. It was at a family gathering, of all places.
Everyone else was loading up their plates at the buffet, chatting about normal life things, while I was in the corner setting up my medically complex child’s feeding pump, calculating meds, and mentally preparing for the questions I knew were coming:
🧐 “What’s that for?”
🥄 “Does he always need it?”
🍽️ “Can he eat real food?”
And as I glanced around, it hit me:
Wow. What if I could just put some food in front of my kid and he ate it? What would that be like?
I looked at the faces around me—why do they look so sad? This feeding tube isn’t a bad thing. It’s literally the reason my kid is thriving. But in that moment, I realized that to them, this wasn’t normal.
For me, it was just Tuesday.
When the “Not-Normal” Moments Really Sunk In
That wasn’t the only time I had this realization. There have been many moments where it became painfully obvious that our life looks nothing like the standard parenting experience.
🤢 The Reflux Puke Epiphany
There was the time I casually asked a group of mom friends for their best hacks to get constant puke out of carpets. You know, because reflux + tube feeds = daily disaster zone.
And their response? “Oh, we don’t really deal with that enough to know.”
Umm… what? You mean… you’re not scrubbing puke out of the carpet multiple times a day? You’re not constantly worrying about whether your kid’s weight will drop because of all the throwing up?
That’s when it hit me: I was very much alone in that struggle.
🏥 The Never-Ending Therapy Schedule
I tried for a long time to make our life fit into the “normal” mold. But as my boys grew, I saw other moms taking their kids to fun activities—music classes, swim lessons, storytime at the library. Meanwhile, we were spending every night in therapy.
At first, it felt like a gut punch. I hated that our schedule was so different. But then I had a reframe moment:
What if therapy was our version of music class?
I started treating it that way—for them and for myself. It wasn’t just another medical to-do; it was time together, playtime, progress, and connection.
Did I still feel guilty that we weren’t doing all the things? Sure. But I also realized that what we were doing was just as valuable.
How I Finally Stopped Chasing “Normal”
Somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to fit into the standard parenting world and just leaned into the chaos that is medical mom life. And honestly? It made things so much better.
But I won’t lie—getting to that point wasn’t easy. It’s way too tempting to compare our journey to other moms’ lives, wondering why things seem easier for them. Even within the medical mom world, it’s easy to feel like you’re not doing enough—especially when someone else’s child is hitting milestones faster, thriving on a different treatment, or has a seemingly “easier” diagnosis.
I know firsthand how exhausting that mental spiral can be. If you’ve ever caught yourself trapped in the comparison cycle, I wrote this post for you:
👉 The Brutal Truth About the Medical Mom Comparison Trap (And How to Break Free)
Because here’s the truth: Your “normal” is not meant to look like anyone else’s.
Here’s what helped me get there:
💜 1. Your “Easy” Will Always Be Everyone Else’s Hard
If I could go back and tell myself one thing in that moment at the family gathering, it would be this:
“I know everyone keeps telling you this will get easier. Take it from me—it will. But it will always look different. Your ‘easy’ will always be everyone else’s hard. But that just means your level of badass is exponentially higher.”
We do hard things every single day. And eventually, those hard things become second nature.
📅 2. Survival = Having a System
I used to feel like I was constantly drowning in appointments, medical supplies, insurance calls, and way too many notes in my phone. But once I found a way to keep it all somewhat organized, life felt less overwhelming.
That’s why I created my Medical Mom Reset Workbook—because medical life is chaotic enough without trying to keep everything in your head.
👉 Want to feel more in control of your medical mom life? Grab the workbook here.
🚫 3. Screen Time? Please, That’s the Least of My Worries
Some parents stress about how much screen time their kids get. Me? I’m just trying to keep track of med schedules, insurance calls, and whether we have enough syringes to last the week.
If my kid can recite every single word to Blippi? So be it. Sometimes, survival mode means handing them a tablet so you can breathe for five minutes. Priorities.
Finding Joy in the Chaos of Medical Mom Life
Despite everything, I wouldn’t trade this life for anything. Because here’s the thing—this life is full of victories.
- When my son hits a milestone we weren’t sure he ever would.
- When he laughs despite all the tubes, tests, and hospital stays.
- When I realize just how far I’ve come as his mom.
I know this life doesn’t look “normal.” But it’s our version of normal. And even in the chaos, it’s beautiful.
So if you’re feeling like life will never be normal again, just know this:
You’re not alone. I see you. I get it. And I promise—this version of life, as messy and exhausting as it is, is still full of joy.
You’ve got this.
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