Women Who WOW: Lindsay Ulrey of Wheel Good Motherhood
- Sophia Masso
- May 9
- 5 min read
Lindsay Ulrey is a licensed clinical psychologist specializing in perinatal mental health, a wheelchair user after acquiring a spinal cord injury while her children were young, and the founder of Wheel Good Motherhood—an online community created for moms with disabilities. She lives at the intersection of clinical expertise and lived experience, and she brings both to every conversation she has about disability, identity, and what it means to be a mother.
On Community
Finding Her People Changed Everything
When Lindsay acquired her spinal cord injury, her children were 2 and 5 years old. The isolation was immediate and real. "Finding my community turned what initially felt isolating into something shared and empowering," she says. "As a mom using a wheelchair, there are so many moments that aren't talked about or represented."
"It's not just about advice or resources—it's about being seen, understood, and encouraged on the hard days."
That sense of being truly seen is what drove Lindsay to build Wheel Good Motherhood: a space where disabled moms don't have to explain or justify their experience to be welcomed. The community, she says, has helped her show up more confidently, for her kids, and for herself.
On Support Gaps
The Gaps Are Bigger Than Most People Realize
Speaking as both a psychologist and a disabled mother, Lindsay identifies a striking absence at the center of mainstream parenting culture: resources that actually fit. "Mainstream parenting advice and support just don't fit, and it can feel isolating when you're trying to find support that misses the mark," she explains.
The gaps aren't just emotional. Adaptive tools, accessible childcare, inclusive community programs, and mental health providers who understand the intersection of disability and motherhood are all in critically short supply. Representation is another piece: disabled mothers are largely invisible in parenting media, which sends its own quiet, damaging message. Community helps fill some of that space, but it also makes clear how much support is still needed.
On What People Get Wrong
The Wheelchair is One Part of the Story
If Lindsay could shift one perception, it would be this: using a wheelchair is just one part of her motherhood experience. "We are dealing with and managing many of the same things as nondisabled moms. We adapt, problem-solve, and show up for our kids in deeply intentional ways."
"The biggest challenges often aren't our abilities, but the barriers and assumptions made about us and our parenting capabilities based on our disabilities."
Inaccessible spaces, Lindsay points out, impact disabled moms far more than their disabilities do. The systemic, therefore, becomes personal.
On Advice for Other Moms
Do It Your Way
For mothers navigating disability, pregnancy, and parenthood, Lindsay's message is clear: there is no one right way. "Give yourself permission to do things your way. Build a support system that truly sees you, and don't be afraid to ask for help." She encourages connecting with other disabled moms, gathering wisdom from those with similar experiences, and advocating for yourself in healthcare and beyond.
Above all: "Be gentle with yourself. You're navigating a lot, and you're allowed to do it on your own terms."
On Advocacy
Why She Keeps Showing Up
Disability advocacy around motherhood isn't abstract for Lindsay, it's personal. She's lived the gaps, the assumptions, and the absence of representation firsthand. "Advocacy matters to me because it's about making sure our experiences are seen, supported and valued—not just for us, but for the moms coming after us, too."
On Founding WGM
The Space She Built
After her injury, Lindsay craved community with moms who understood the unique realities of parenting on wheels. She searched and couldn't find a space that help both parts of her identity: disabled and a mother. So she created one.
"The turning point was realizing I wasn't the only one feeling this way."
Wheel Good Motherhood was build to be the community Lindsay needed: honest, supportive, and free from the pressure of having to justify your experience just to belong.
On Clinical Training Meets Lived Experience
She Recognized the Layers in Real Time
As a perinatal mental health specialist, Lindsay thinks constantly about identity, shifts, matrescence, and the emotional weight of parenting. When her own life changed after her injury, she recognized those layers immediately and gave herself more permission to grieve, adjust, and resist pathologizing what are actually very human responses.
"I'm not just speaking clinically about resilience or identity," she says. "I'm living it." That lived understanding now shapes both how she advocates for herself in medical spaces and the depth of care she brings to her clinical practice.
On the "Perfect Mom" Myth
Narrow Standards Leave No Room
Societal ideas of the perfect mother are already unrealistic. But for disabled moms, they can be especially damaging. Built on nondisabled norms, they leave mothers either feeling like they're falling short, or constantly having to "prove" their capability.
From a clinical lens, this adds a complex layer to identity and mental health: navigating not just motherhood, but also stigma and internalized expectations. "The reality is, there isn't one way to be a good mom," Lindsay says. "Those narrow standards leave very little room for the creativity, adaptability, and strength that disabled mothers bring into our everyday lives."
On Practical Adaptations
Creating an Environment That Works With Her Body
For Lindsay, some of the biggest differences have come from simple, practical changes: a lowered, accessible home setup; a van with a ramp and hand controls that gave her back the ability to participate in everyday life with her kids; a handcycle that means family bike rides are fully back on the table.
"It's less about one perfect tool and more about creating an environment where I can engage with my kids safely, efficiently, and in a way that works with my body—not against it."
On Talking to Her Kids
Casual, Honest, Open
Lindsay keeps disability conversations with her children simple and part of everyday life. She describes her wheelchair as a tool: like glasses help people see, or cars help people get places faster. She models comfort with difference, reads books that celebrate disability and diversity, and answers questions directly and calmly.
"Our kids don't come into the world with assumptions and stories about disability—we have opportunities to talk about and normalize them as just a part of being a person in the world."
The goal isn't a heavy conversation. It's an open one.
Join the Community!
Find Your People at Wheel Good Motherhood
If any part of Lindsay's story resonated with you, you don't have to keep navigating this journey alone. Wheel Good Motherhood is the community built for moms with disabilities, a space where you don't have to explain yourself, justify your experience, or fit a mold that was never made for you.
Whether you're newly disabled, pregnant, postpartum, or deep in the thick of raising kids on wheels, there's a space for you, thanks to Lindsay.
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