Monsters are always scarier when they are unnamed, unknown,
hidden in the shadows. But what happens when you can call them by name?
It took us a lot of months to
find out who our monster is and what is its name. When we finally did, we were
devastated thinking of how this monster will affect our baby, of how many opportunities
he will miss, of how much of life he will miss.
That’s the thing about monsters
you see, they are scary…But the more you fear, the more you question your decisions,
the more paralyzed you get by it, the less you do about it. Fear holds you back
and eats at you slowly and deadly.
All of those dreadful scenarios we
imagined, all of those things going from bad to worse, all the missed
opportunities of life, they all have a probability of happening and I accept
that. But I refuse to help the odds of these scenarios by fearing them and by
somehow making them self fulfilling.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not
saying we have a shot of defeating this monster. It would be delusional to rely
on miracles but now I don’t fear it anymore and I can go the extra mile.
Sun Tsu once said that a conquering army should always leave their opponents a way to retreat. That way when put to choose between fighting to the death or saving their lives, they will choose their lives. Otherwise, they will have nothing to lose and fight with devastating force and determination.
The one who taught me this life
lesson is the best and the most surprising teacher I have ever had, my son.
Last week I let him roam around
the balcony on his walker. He is active but obviously nothing like the kids his
age so I didn’t really take any precautions to hide or lift things from his
way. I had just finished cleaning the balcony so the chairs were still on the
table. The thought of what could happen didn’t even have time to form in my
mind because I heard a scream followed by a cry and I saw him literally running
away from the table.
I ran to him and found him with a
mouth full of blood and crying with sobs. Thankfully he had no chipped teeth
and no bruises. Just a major scare and a split lip. He apparently reached for
the chair that I left, unsuspectingly, on top of the table and dragged it down
on top of his walker.
After I calm him down I started
shaking uncontrollably, thinking of what could have happened and, like in an
absurd theater play, crying with joy for his achievement.
It was then that I realized how
low my expectation of him were and how these expectations mirrored not his
potential but my fears.
If he has the courage to challenge the odds who am I to hold him back?
