When Max was first diagnosed with cerebral palsy I was devastated as a father.  I had not prepared for this, no matter what the statistics say about how many potential kids will be inflicted with any disease or diagnosis those stats were for others not me.  I saw all that I had believed the life with my son would be crumbling before my eyes.  I felt like I already knew the answers to the questions I was afraid to ask, ‘will he ever walk?’ ‘will he be normal?’  All the dreams I had of Max and I throwing a football in the back yard, riding bicycles and wrestling together were in an instant nothing more than wishful thinking.

Where was the book on this?  All the great parenting advice, the pregnancy, newborn, and toddler raising books failed to address shattered dreams.  I remember looking out of the window on the 3rd floor, looking out over a world full of people living their lives.  Fathers playing with their kids, dreams being chased and fulfilled.  Who was I to wallow in my own self-loathing?

I remember meditating on that idea of shattered dreams, only I didn’t realize at the time how deep those ideas were embedded.  As I saw other children finding their voice, running free and careless.   Every time I watched a child Maxs age or younger doing something Max would never do, I was drawn back into the broken pieces.  My anticipated relationship had been built on assumptions, but was being reformed on a new reality.

I look back at who I was sitting on that couch, thinking about the tears and sorrow.  I realize that my life took a new trajectory that day and I would not change a thing.  The shattered dreams have been replaced by something far more valuable and much, much better.

scott