Dreams

John Cox is a sales supervisor in Los Angeles. His wife Shelley works for the HOPE Infant Family Support Program in Oceanside. In addition to Kristina, they have two other children - nine-year old Kimberly, and six-year old Travis. Kristina, now 12, was born with cerebral palsy and other significant challenges.






  Dreams
John Cox

While you spend a lifetime dreaming about your unborn child’s potential accomplishments, it’s generally not until the last few months before he or she is born that dreams go into high gear. You dream of the engineer, ballerina, or lawyer your child will grow up to be. And as the delivery date draws near, dreams gather momentum, fed by parents, friends, and co-workers until you half expect to see your child born 18 years old, highly educated and physically attractive -- perfect in every way.

It’s humbling how dreams that build up over a lifetime can blow away like the air from a balloon. In the amount of time it takes for a doctor to say, "Oh no," dreams can turn to nightmares and hopes can turn to fears. All those long held dreams of perfection melt away into short term prayers and frantic thoughts of -- if only the baby will be all right.... what am I going to tell our parents?.... how did this happen?.... why us? In a matter of moments you have traded bar exams for brain scans, ballet shoes for blood tests, rock solid normality for ground breaking lunacy. I watched helplessly as my baby was poked and prodded by strangers who did not have the time to answer my questions or allay my fears.

Through it all I coped with a day-to-day roller coaster ride of good news, then bad, hopeful signs, then puzzling questions. I found myself unable to dream -- because I lived for the moment -- unable to see past the next doctor’s visit or test, hoping that this time someone will be able to determine what is wrong or what will happen in the future. But I became more frustrated with each visit or test, as still more were needed, Worse yet, everyone finally said that only time would tell what the future would hold.

Slowly, very slowly, I realized that I would never know exactly what was going to happen until it did. At first I was angry -- I wanted answers -- but it dawned on me one day that I was really no different than any other father. No doctor or specialist can tell anyone of us how bright or physically capable our children are going to be. The most that we, and all parents, can hope for is that we make the best of what is given to us. This new realization liberated my wife and me. We began to look towards the future again, and we started doing things that would give us and our child choices.

I began to dream again. To be sure, these were not the same dreams as before, but as important. I dreamed of her first steps, and when they came, no parent was ever more proud of their child. My wife and I dreamed of including her in a regular education classroom at school, and after many battles, no parent was ever more emotional or proud when her first regular education teacher assured us that this is where she belonged. While receiving no straight "A" report card, the comments were cherished all the same.

I continue to dream of the future, of my daughter working, building meaningful relationships, and accomplishing great things for herself and others. I know that she will never be a lawyer, doctor, or ballerina -- but I dream all the same of what she can become -- and I cherish each step she takes along her way of accomplishments.

All children are a gift to their parents, grandparents, teachers - everyone that comes into contact with them. And they teach us all something that we would not have learned without them. For me it was to slow down so I could take pleasure in the details of my children’s lives. I learned to take an active part in all my children’s activities and to cherish each of their accomplishments. I couldn’t have done it without her, and I am much richer for this experience. I would not wish it away.

I do remember wondering a few years back what my daughter would have been like if.... I grieved for the loss of my "normal" life, somehow assuming that the one I had embarked on would not be as fulfilling. I don’t think that way anymore. I am proud of my daughter’s accomplishments, and like any father, I am looking forward to many more she will have as she matures. I need not have anguished about the future. Looking back, I see now that few others have been as blessed as I.

John Cox
20470 Seaboard Road
Malibu, CA 90265


John Cox is a sales supervisor in Los Angeles. His wife Shelley works for the HOPE Infant Family Support Program in Oceanside. In addition to Kristina, they have two other children - nine-year old Kimberly, and six-year old Travis. Kristina, now 12, was born with cerebral palsy and other significant challenges.

This article was previously published in National Fathers Newsletter (4:2), and in the April, 1994 edition of Exceptional Parent magazine, "Fathers Voices."