When I found out that I was going to be a father, I just couldn’t believe it. Here I was, 47, and becoming a father for the first time. A little complicated though. The young lady that I was dating was not quite as thrilled. She was a career woman who had a path already etched in stone. I totally understood because that was my mindset in my 20s, 30s, 40s and now 47. I didn’t plan on this new development, but I had to admit that I was excited. I couldn’t stop thinking, “I’m going to be a father”. Will I be a good father? Am I prepared? Will I be as good as my dad was? Whatever the outcome, I felt I was ready. So, my girlfriend and I made the decision that I would be the sole parent and provider of our child, and she agreed to turn all parental rights over to me. Great. Let’s do it. So, I prepared a room in my house for my new child. This opened a world that I just never envisioned for myself.
Six months into the pregnancy, we learned that there were some concerns about the baby. The doctor detected some developmental issues but couldn’t be sure until the actual arrival of the baby. By the way, we learned that we were going to have a son. My heart just exploded with pride. I was going to teach him everything that I knew. I decided on the name, Oliver, after my father. Everyone who saw me just saw my smile that extended from one ear to the next. I was so excited.
Oliver arrived. Everything seemed fine. He slept through the night without any issues. I quickly learned how to change diapers and why you need to burp a baby immediately after a feeding. However, after several appointments, the doctor diagnosed Oliver with autism. Okay, I didn’t see this coming. Did he get the diagnosis right? Did he read the correct chart? Was he talking about my Oliver or someone else? The doctor just didn’t understand. This was the only child that I would ever have. This was my legacy. On top of that, I was rearing him by myself. No help from anyone. I’ve never been an emotional person, but I felt it, and I felt it all: FEAR. CONFUSION. HEAVINESS. DESPAIR. I knew that single parenting came with its challenges, but this was next level. I was 47. By the time Oliver turned 20, I would be 67. Would he be able to navigate this world? Would people try to take advantage of him? Would he understand how people operate, and would they understand him? Would anyone be able to see his kind heart and appreciate the innocence of his soul? In that moment I knew that I had to be strong, smart, and resilient for me and my son, Oliver. This was my test. This was my assignment. My life in corporate America taught me to think outside the box and find answers when others settled for the status quo. I’ve never let an employer down, and I refused to let my son down.
That day, I made the decision to settle into my new reality. Each day became a learning experience for me. Oliver would get upset if a puzzle piece didn’t fit just right into the other shapes. I could relate. If my life didn’t fit exactly how I expected, I became irritable too.
There were also days when Oliver was just the happiest kid on the planet. He would laugh when the doorbell rang or when his favorite song played over and over. I could relate. I felt immense joy when my son looked at me and just smiled. His eyes seemed to tell me that he loved me, and I have to be honest, I felt it. But there were also days when the world seemed to be crashing in for him. Going out in public was a challenge. Crowds and noises irritated him to the point of non-stop crying. The noise level was something that he just couldn’t process, and our excursions into the public became few. I could relate. I have to admit that I’ve always enjoyed being a homebody. It’s peaceful, and my home is my haven.
Some days are super special. When Oliver turned three, I started to see a glimmer of hope. We were in the kitchen, and he was eating a hot dog. He offered the hot dog to me and looked directly at me and said, “Dad.” Normally, he just pointed, but this was the first time he actually called me “Dad.” Don’t tell anyone, but my eyes started leaking. All I could do was hug him. This was my son. This was groundbreaking. This was a good day.
I find myself growing as a person, as a man, and as a father. I’ve learned that Oliver is not just a child living with autism. He’s a little boy that is simply growing and learning one step at a time like all of us. I’ve also learned that I’m not just a single parent. I am a father and an advocate to an amazing child. Every day I have to keep going. I have to be resilient. There are no days off. His progress depends on me showing up daily. I choose to be optimistic. I choose to be patient. I choose to keep learning and adapting. Becoming a father has been a journey. Being Oliver’s father has taught me that being strong isn’t about overcoming struggles, its’ about never giving up. And for him, I never will.
There are many variations of passages of Lorem Ipsum available, but the majority have suffered alteration in some form, by injected humour, or randomised words which don’t look even slightly believable.