Starting a Family of Our Own

Ever since I could remember, I wanted a family of my own.  When my accident happened, I thought that having children would be something that I wouldn’t be able to do.  Even after I learned that it would be possible, what kind of father could I be? When I met Laura and things were getting serious, we discussed having children, but it wasn’t really high on Laura’s priority list at the time, and that was fine with me.  My feeling was, if she wanted to have kids, I would do what we had to do, but if not, that was fine too.

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Because of my disability, I had some concerns; my biggest of which as mentioned above was, “What kind of father would I be?”  Growing up, my father didn’t do a whole lot of activities with me.  Don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining about my dad.  He was an excellent provider, we always had what we needed, and I knew he loved us, but he wasn’t the kind of dad that would go outside and have a catch with me.  I remember doing things with him, but it wasn’t all that often.  Because of this, I always thought that, when I have kids, it was going to be different.  I was going to do fun activities with them and hang out with them more than my father did with me.  Not necessarily be their buddy (don’t get me started on parents trying to be their kids’ buddies… that’s a whole other topic), but still have fun with them.  So, after my accident, when I would think about having kids, I would think about all the things I couldn’t do with them.  To be honest, when I was a lot younger, I resented my father a little for not wanting to do things with me, and I didn’t want my kids resenting me.  Also, I was worried that my kids would be embarrassed by me for being so different than their friends’ dads.  Let’s face it; kids are cruel, and if there’s a weakness or difference to be exploited, kids will find it and be relentless.  I just didn’t want to be the cause of this for my kids.  In addition to this, I worried because I wouldn’t be able to physically help raise my kids.  I wouldn’t be able to help feed them, I wouldn’t be able to help with bath time, and I wouldn’t be able to help with the thousands of little things it takes to physically take care of a child.  And even though I knew that there was a lot more to being a parent than this, I still couldn’t help feeling that I couldn’t be a good father.

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As I got older, though, I realized something:  No matter what, there’s a good chance that Laura and I are going to screw up our kids.  We’re going to do our best, and I’m sure we’re going to raise well rounded, well behaved members of society in the long run, but whether or not I’m disabled, my kids will probably resent me for something.  And as far as being embarrassed by me?  Yeah, that’s also pretty much a sure thing no matter what.  With my personality and twisted sense of humor, the odds of my kids being embarrassed by me are through the roof.  I also realized that, even though I can’t help with the physical aspects of raising our kids, that just being there and being involved has its benefits.  And although I can’t help with bath time, there’s nothing stopping me from reading my kids stories at bed time.  Also, even though I can’t throw a ball around with my kids (not without possible physical harm, anyway), I can still do plenty of other things with them.  Some of the best memories I have of my dad are the few I have of us going on little “adventures” together.  There’s nothing stopping me from doing this with my kids.  There’s plenty of trips to playgrounds, parks, or museums we can have.  And there’s something else.  My dad wasn’t a big talker.  I don’t really recall ever having a “meaningful” conversation with him, and when I asked him questions, I would usually get the minimal answer.  I’m going to talk with my kids, and answer any question they have.  I really look forward to some of the conversations we’ll have.

So, now when I think of fatherhood, I say “bring it on!”  Disability or not, there’s nothing stopping me from being the best father I can be.