My Story
I was born on October 9, 1993, in St. John’s, Newfoundland, the youngest of four children—and later the youngest of six when my mom remarried. At just 5 lbs 6 ounces, I came into the world smaller than my siblings. My mom, already experienced with three children, quickly noticed I wasn’t reaching milestones. I was stiff to dress, and something felt different. Because doctors only visited our small town every six months, she had to wait for answers. Before I was even a year old, I was diagnosed with spastic dystonic quadriplegic cerebral palsy, classified as Level 5 on the Gross Motor Function Classification System (GMFCS).
Doctors gave my mom a grim outlook, saying I would never speak, feed myself, or live independently. But they didn’t know me. What some call stubborn, I call determined—and that determination has carried me through every challenge.
Soon after my diagnosis, my mom moved us back to London, Ontario, where I could access better medical care. Growing up as the youngest sibling was full of laughter and love. My brothers and sisters never treated me as different—we even staged “wrestling matches” in the living room, which might explain why I’m still a wrestling fan today.
School was a mix of struggles and triumphs. I was often the first student with accessibility needs, which meant being the “guinea pig” for new supports. At times, it was isolating—like being stuck on the pavement at recess while my classmates played in the fields. But there were victories too, like cutting the ribbon on my school’s first accessible playground. Knowing my challenges helped pave the way for others made it worth it.
High school brought new hurdles. I developed scoliosis, endured countless surgeries, and even nearly lost my life on the operating table. Pain and hospital stays consumed much of my teenage years, but I still made the honor roll and built lifelong friendships. It was also when I began carving out my independence—something my mom struggled with, but something I knew I needed.
I’ve battled depression, anxiety, and the heavy toll of medications. There were days I begged not to wake up. Looking back, I see how strong my mom had to be—sometimes appearing cold, but only because she was holding everything together for me.
Adulthood brought new lessons. Online dating exposed me to heartbreak and healing. It gave me a marriage that didn’t last, a painful relationship, and ultimately, the love of my life—my fiancé, who has been my anchor and guardian angel. He has stayed on the phone with me through long, lonely nights in the hospital, reminding me that things would be okay.
My independence grew when I was accepted into the Direct Funding Program, which allowed me to hire and manage my own support staff. It’s a lot of work, but it taught me advocacy, communication, and leadership skills I wouldn’t trade for anything.
The last year has been one of the hardest for my health—22 hospital visits and 8 admissions—but also one of the most rewarding in my personal life. At my lowest, I considered medically assisted dying, but my fiancé reminded me of my strength and my purpose. I’m so grateful I listened.
As for how Butterfly Dreams on Wheels began. Honestly, it just happened. With the help of social media, what started as an idea grew into a business and a community, I’m so proud of.
This website is dedicated to my mom, who made me the woman I am today, even if we don’t always see eye to eye. it is also dedicated to my nieces and nephews, my siblings, my friends, my family, and everyone who has motivated me to push for independence.
If I can help even one person find hope, encouragement, and a reminder that they are not alone—then my job is done.
