Redefining Success : The Small Things that Mean Everything

Lately I’ve struggled with a question people ask with the best of intentions: “So what’s Wyatt going to do next?” or “What has Wyatt been doing since he graduated?”

I see the looks sometimes when I answer. The head tilts. The wide eyes. “Well… he’s mostly been hanging out with me at home. He plays video games. He loves cleaning things with his Dremel.”

And I can almost feel people trying to make sense of that answer.

What I wish more people understood is how exhausting Duchenne muscular dystrophy is. Not the kind of tired most of us feel after a long day — the kind that settles into every movement, every task, every part of the body.

For Wyatt, even getting out of bed can take everything he has.

Some days I know it’s time that I make him get in the shower. And even then, I feel guilty about it. Because I know how hard it is for him. Once he’s there, he loves the hot water. He’ll stay as long as he can because the hardest part is actually getting out — drying off, getting warm again, doing all the work it takes afterward.

We’ve tried everything to make it easier.

An extra heater in the room.

A heated light over the shower chair.

A heating blanket waiting on the bed.

Still, it’s exhausting.

Sometimes I think about what people might say if I answered their question honestly: “Today he took a shower.”

I worry they would look at me like I’ve failed somehow. And if I’m being honest, sometimes I feel that way too. I let him sleep when he needs to. I let him stay in bed if he wants to.

But then I remind myself: he’s a 19-year-old young man. And I don’t know what it feels like to live in a body that is that tired just from moving.

So I choose something else.

I choose to let him save his energy for the things that matter most — when his friends come over, when we go somewhere as a family, when there’s something fun happening. Those are the days I want him to enjoy. Those are the memories I want him to have the energy for.

Recently I joined a support group for parents of adults with DMD. It has been incredibly insightful. There is something powerful about saying these things out loud and seeing other moms quietly nod in understanding.

One thing the facilitator said this week really stayed with me.

She said we need to stop defining success by what society calls success.

Success doesn’t always look like college degrees, careers, or busy schedules.

Sometimes success is much quieter.

Sometimes success is an evening when everyone is in the same room watching a baseball game together.

Or laughing over YouTube videos.

Or just enjoying being together.

So today, I’m claiming success for our family.

In the Rownd home, success means noticing the small victories that other people might overlook. It means choosing joy in the ordinary moments. It means being grateful for exactly where we are.

And that is more than enough. Cheers!