Perfect, or not imperfect

I remember clearly the first second Theo was born. In that brief moment that the mid-wife held him before he was passed to his mum, I checked him from top to bottom, scanning every millimetre of his body for imperfections.
At the time I was unconsciously making sure he was fit and well, but thinking now, I was also checking to see if he was going to have to suffer future humiliation carrying a disability. Part of me also admits with embarrassment that I didn’t want him to be anything but perfect so he din’t reflect badly on me.
That thought makes me cringe now. I do not want to be the sort of person who makes those sorts of judgments, but unconsciously, there it is, I am.
I now know, that it wouldn’t have mattered whether Theo had a disability, I would not have loved him any less. And maybe there would have been more challenges for us, but I hope we would have met them stronger than I was at the time I first set eyes on him.
I guess the truth is there is no ‘perfect’, but the most we can wish for is being not imperfect: and that is a very subjective thing.

If you would like to read a blog showing a dad with real strength, please go here:

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