TED

Soon my youngest son will turn 7. Years ago, when many of my friends were having kids, I didn’t think it would be possible, or wise, for me to bring children into the world. I remember having a good teacher friend at school who was out on maternity leave and one day visited a crew of teachers in our lunch room setting (you know who you are…the lunch bunch…that’s a whole other blog)…where was I? Oh yes. the teacher and her baby. The little girl was so stinking cute and the mom/teacher/friend let me hold her. Our principal came in while the scene was unfolding and everyone was gushing as I had this little bundle of joy balanced on my lap on a pillow. For a split second I thought: I can do this if I meet the right woman and if I have some support and help, I could be a dad. The thought was fleeting as the kid began to spit up and the mom quickly went into action with a burp cloth, moving quickly and without, you know, being disabled.

Snapped back into reality thinking there was no fair way I could ever parent. I was being selfish and continued to tell myself that it would be unfair for a kid or kids to grow up with a father who was unable to even play catch, pick them up, give piggy back rides, teach them how to work on their car, or run on the beach with them. I had tons of fun with my friend’s kids but I always had the sense that I would not experience this part of life. Later, I learned that the principal that I mentioned in the story above, took that mom/teacher aside and said “How nice that you let Patrick hold your baby, since he won’t be having any children of his own.” I was pissed at the principal’s ignorance and always lived by the “anything is possible” attitude, but that stung me because I also believed it to be true. I had another really good friend’s wife once tell me: “You do realize that it’s going to take a really special woman to be with you long term right?” At first I thought it was a joke on the fact that we were an extremely tight friend group who busted on one another hard and fast with almost no hold barred (that’s how we showed love…and still do today in some cases), but when she didn’t laugh, I again realized that she meant, with my baggage of disability, although I had been in several long term relationships with women by that point in my life, it always ended with the woman discovering that my condition would likely progress and worsen in the future, robbing me of being able to do even simple tasks like wiping my own butt, reaching for the salt, getting dressed or out of bed on my own. How would I earn enough money for myself to live, let alone a family with kids and kids who might want to play soccer, go camping or do anything that able-bodied families do?

Feeling sorry for me yet? I was. I did for a long time. Once, in a story that my wife STILL brings up (pro tip: women never forget ANYTHING important. They may say they do, but don’t believe it for a second…think first before you…actually….it’s best just to shut up 99% of the time).

Vanessa (my wife if this blog read is your first point of entry) and I were sitting in The Weathervane restaurant (a seafood chain on the east coast) one afternoon enjoying lunch. We had been dating for over two years at that point and I was still too dumb to realize that she wanted to spend her life with me. My human conditioning had taught me to hang around long enough and the disability would win and I would be single again, only to repeat the process of hope for the best while planning for the worst. She asked me, over a cup of chowder, if I ever wanted to have kids. I laughed. Out loud. I told her no way. Not in hell. Never. Not for me. I hated myself in that moment. When I think of it now, I hate my reaction, and myself, all over again. Here was a beautiful, intelligent, motivated woman actually asking me about the future that she envisioned and I crushed it. We argued, finished our lunch and left. Looking back now, I think I was terrified at the prospect that I would fail at the most important job that I believe a human being can be given: to parent. It was easier to sabotage my life and run away from something so big, so unknown, and so foreign of a concept to a disabled adult.

Fate would have it that Vanessa didn’t dump me and run that day (and still hasn’t…the poor thing haha). Instead, she believed in me, which gave me strength to grow as a person and eventually realize that maybe I could be a dad. A few years later, I WOULD be a dad. Twice. First Tim in 2014, and then Ted in 2016. They are both the highlights of my life. They make me smile and laugh each day and though I cannot throw a ball with them, I have learned that bonding with your kid comes in many, many forms and it is wonderful. I learn so much from both of them and Vanessa and I share so many amazing parent moments that it is impossible to recall all of them. In the darkest moments of my health challenges, and though I remain wary of what may come in the future as my condition progresses, I look at my boys each day as two bright rays of sunshine that have been sent to me by God and this universe and I thank the wonderful, special woman that has been by my side through all of it. My heart is full as Ted turns 7 and I must end with a glimpse of how hilarious he is:

Me: Ted, what are you doing over there?

Ted: Don’t worry about it daddy, I’m taking off my pants because mommy is outside.

Me: What does that even mean? WHY?

Ted: Because my cake (his butt) is precious and I need to show it to mommy through the window.

(Hops up onto the low windowsill, chucking a moon at Vanessa out the window FACING the road)

Me: (voice raised) TED! Get down! People can see your butt from the road!

Ted: (calmly) Daddy, relax, I’m giving mommy a pressed ham with my precious cake out.

Yes. This is my son. If you have ham for Christmas, pressed or not pressed, please remember my family at your dining room table. If my wonderful neighbors Justine, Joe, or the Fields are reading this: The Moeschen Family apologizes for your view of the full moon the other day.

Stay safe, stay awesome, and stay pressed. Remember…it’s ham…not to be confused with pork, as in pork shoulder on sale at Market Basket. I need Tylenol.