I had a stroke at birth and tried to hide my cerebral palsy for years. Sharing on social media helped me free myself.

July is Disability Pride Month.

As Jacquelyne Froeber tells it

I was born feet first in a breech position on December 3, 1993.

Of course I don’t remember anything from that day.

I can’t remember when the doctors tried to turn me over during delivery, or when things escalated and I was delivered with forceps.

I can’t remember how scared my parents were when they found out that I had suffered a stroke at birth, which affected the right side of my brain and led to a lack of oxygen during delivery, which also affected the left side of my body.

I don’t remember being diagnosed with a type of cerebral palsy called hemiparesis or hearing that I might not be able to walk or use the left side of my body.

All I remember is love.

Growing up, my family did everything they could to normalize the fact that my entire left side – especially my arm and hand – didn’t function like my right side. It wasn’t until I was 5 or 6 that I even realized that there were activities like the monkey bars that I probably couldn’t do. The realization didn’t make me sad. I just knew I had to find my own way of doing certain things.

Rachel at age 1, 1994

I went to occupational therapy and physical therapy for years, which played a huge role in my life and helped me maintain the level of functionality I had for many years. But as I grew, the tension in my left hand gradually increased, despite therapy.

Although I had a strong support network, the fear of being a burden was always in the back of my mind, especially after moving away from home. I was constantly afraid that friends would think I was needy if I asked for help with “simple” tasks like putting my hair in a ponytail or opening a jar of gravy. All the negative talk was just in my head, but I convinced myself that asking for help was a sign of weakness.

I did my best to avoid situations or conversations where I had to explain my left arm. I lived in self-deprecating mode, always trying to keep things light and avoid the awkwardness that followed: “I had a stroke when I was born.”

Dating was particularly difficult. Dating in New York City is hard no matter who you are, but it was really hard for me to put myself out there, partly because my cerebral palsy is an invisible disability—you wouldn’t necessarily know about my limitations until I had to do something with both hands. On the first date, I deliberately skipped dinner because I didn’t want to stand out with one hand while eating or have to explain my arm.

Rachel in Bend, Oregon, 2025

When the pandemic hit, I felt lonelier than ever. Like so many people, I used social media to connect with friends and family. One evening I had a random thought: Are there online groups for people like me with hemiparesis?

I typed the word into the search bar and my whole world changed.

The thought of an online support community had never occurred to me until that moment. I had never met anyone with hemiparesis – I just assumed my condition was rare. But there were support groups, and one of them had thousands of members from all over the world.

I immediately signed up and started talking to people in the community. For the first time in my life I felt understood. I had the freedom to talk about my problems. I am free to discuss the chronic pain I have been experiencing due to the strained tendons in my left arm. The freedom to adapt to a world that is not designed for people with disabilities. The more I learned from other people in the group, the more I wanted to share my experiences to help others.

Even though I was plagued with self-doubt, I started posting videos about hemiparesis. I thought if I could help one person living with cerebral palsy, it would be worth being vulnerable and pushing myself out of my comfort zone.

Through social media, I have built an incredibly meaningful community of people with hemiparesis and parents of children with hemiparesis or cerebral palsy. The opportunity to connect with parents brought me full circle. Growing up, I didn’t know anyone with hemiparesis and was told I was a role model for children with disabilities. That meant everything to me.

After posting for a few years, I became more intentional about sharing my life story and my birth stroke. The response I received online was overwhelming. Within a few months, I had millions of views and hundreds of people thanked me for raising awareness about stroke and hemiparesis in children.

Rachel and her boyfriend, 2025

Every comment and every conversation showed me how powerful it is to feel understood and seen. When I stopped hiding and started sharing, my whole life changed. Recently, I fell in love, moved to North Carolina to be close to my love, and started a new career focused on raising awareness for stroke and cerebral palsy.

I hope that everyone who lives with limitations – invisible or not – has a voice and the opportunity to live a full and fulfilling life. It took me a while to find my voice, but now that I have, I want to be part of the change.

Do you have any real women, real stories of your own that you would like to share? Let us know.

Our “Real Women, Real Stories” are the authentic experiences of real-life women. The views, opinions and experiences shared in these stories are not endorsed by HealthyWomen and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of HealthyWomen.

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