Tag: fatherhood

10 Years

We’re coming up on the 10th anniversary of our son’s first seizure.

When he was nine years old, we marked the milestone of half of his life being with seizures and half of his life being without seizures. Now, he has lived more than 2/3 of his life so far with seizures. We barely remember a time before.

When his seizures first started, there were times when we didn’t think we would see another day, never mind another year. The first few years were filled with countless emergency room visits, long hospital stays, extensive therapies, medications, related side effects, special diets, and surgery. Our son was broken down into his basic parts but stayed intact through the love and support of the people around us.

The next few years were about staying afloat, with a pandemic mixed in because things weren’t hard enough. The seizures never went away. We struggled to find him a school, a community, and friends as he drifted further from his peers in academics and social interactions.

These past few years, we have gone from staying afloat to building. We moved to the suburbs where we have more space. We found him a school that has accepted him and helped him learn and grow academically and socially. He graduated 8th grade. He has friends. While we don’t know what it will look like, he has a future. For so many years, that was just another “f-word.”

10 years. 10 years of little sleep, lots of worry and struggle, but also lots of love. 10 years of personal growth to become a better father and husband. 10 years to feel like we might see 10 more years after we weren’t even sure we would get even 1.

Regardless of what the past 10 years have looked like, I am grateful for each and every one of them.

3,128

We are almost as much a Lego family as a Marvel family, so when Lego releases a new Marvel set, it quickly finds its way into our house.

A 3,128-piece Lego Captain America Shield had been sitting in a box in the basement for a few weeks. One day, my son casually mentioned that he was working on it, and then, a few days later, he said he had finished. He brought us down to look at it, and it was amazing. He was so proud of himself for accomplishing such a marvelous (ha!) feat.

The next morning, I went to the basement to grab trash from work we had done. There were long metal rails supporting the old ceiling tiles that we took down, which I had bundled. I picked them up, and as I turned towards the door, I heard a crash behind me.

I turned and saw the Captain America shield that my son had spent days making and had completed just the day before knocked over, with pieces strewn across the floor.

My heart sank. I was devastated, thinking how devasted my son would be when he saw what happened.

I was going to head to work after taking out the trash, but I knew I couldn’t leave before attempting to put the set back together.

I collected the pieces and found the instructions, which were in a book that was about half an inch thick. I flipped open the pages, and it was at that moment that I realized I might be in trouble. The set was extremely complicated. I’m a pretty good engineer and skilled at figuring things out, but it took me some time to understand the construction. Square bricks making a round shape is not an intuitive concept.

It took me more than an hour to repair what I had done. Fortunately, the broken-off segments stayed intact, and the individual pieces were easy to identify and replace. But, in scanning the instructions, I had that feeling that I sometimes get when, for as much as my son struggles, he does something like this, and it blows my mind.

When I told my son what happened, I made a big deal about how impressed I was that he did the set all by himself. I told him how overwhelmed I was when I opened the instructions and tried to understand how the pieces fit together. Then I reminded myself of what he does when he believes he can do anything. Once I adopted that mindset, I was able to fix the shield.

He was proud of himself, not only for accomplishing the daunting task but also for inspiring me to believe that I could do anything. He doesn’t realize that he teaches me that every day by demonstrating it time and again.

Be Curious

Curiosity is one of my favorite character traits. I had a boss who would assign traits to different people to focus on when we interviewed candidates, and I always took curiosity.

One reason is that, for a role like mine, curiosity is an often overlooked characteristic that directly impacts whether someone will be successful or not. The other is that I am a curious person myself. One of my social media taglines is “endlessly curious,” which is why I am also taking a drawing class and French lessons.

I would ask questions in my interviews to elicit a person’s curiosity. What was the last thing you wanted to learn about? Why did you want to learn about it? What did you do to learn about it? What did you find out? Why was that the topic you shared? The best answer I received was from a candidate who had less experience than other candidates but was so passionately curious about the subject matter and asking the best questions that we ended up running over our time. He got the job.

It’s easier to be curious about a topic than about a person. Even a complicated topic is easier to understand than a complex person. It takes curiosity on our part and an openness to share on the other’s part. It takes willingness on both sides to be vulnerable, which can be terrifying. But the reward for being vulnerable and for being curious is a deeper understanding. It’s the difference between dismissing someone at first glance and building a connection. It’s the difference between being invisible and being seen.

There’s a great scene about being curious and the perils of not being curious from Ted Lasso where Ted plays darts with Rupert, the narcissistic ex-husband of Rebecca, his boss, friend, and the team’s manager.

Asking questions and being curious is the key to understanding our world. And it’s the key to us understanding each other. We don’t know what other people have going on in their lives, but we make judgments anyway.

I think about how this applies to my son and how people judge him without asking questions, without being curious about him, without knowing about him, without understanding who he is and what he endures every day to be a part of the world. They see someone who is different. An outsider. Without being curious, they will underestimate him. They won’t see his kindness, his bravery, or his heart. And that’s their loss. But it’s a good reminder for all of us.

Be curious, not judgemental.