To the New Dads of Special Needs Kids
Seven years ago, my life changed forever.
We had done multiple rounds of prenatal testing before our son was born—everything looked normal. But then my wife went to the hospital 2 months early. During labor I was by her side during the C-section, holding her hand tightly. I remember staring at a pump just feet away, watching it fill with more and more blood. Her grip started to weaken. My mind spiraled from anxiety to full-blown panic. Was I going to lose her?
Then, I heard the doctor say, “We’re done, everything’s okay.” Relief swept over me—until I heard his next words: “Take him to the NICU immediately.”
We didn’t see our baby for three days.
It was obvious to the doctor that some of his physical features were not normal
When we finally did, the nurse told us he’d need to stay in NICU for 20 more days. She said, “He’s very fussy.” That word—fussy—threw me off. This was our second child, and we’d never heard that term ”fussy” before.
Then came the real blow: she sat us down and told us our son had been diagnosed with Williams Syndrome (he was also diagnosed with autism 6 years later).
When we got home, I was furious. We had done testing—how did this get missed? That’s when I learned we would’ve needed a microarray test to detect certain syndromes like this one. But no one told us. Now, here we were, holding a diagnosis we were completely unprepared for. I felt betrayed, helpless, and lost.
I was ready to sue. I looked for lawyers. I searched online for support groups and resources, and came up with almost nothing. I felt like my world had flipped upside down. I thought, Why me? Will he live a normal life? Do I need to raise him for the rest of my life? Will I live a normal life?
At the time, it felt like a curse. It felt like we were being punished.
But over time, I had to change my train of thought: this wasn’t a punishment. It was a calling—a painful, powerful invitation to grow. I had to learn emotional control. Patience. Compassion. This journey exposed every part of me I had never dealt with throughout my chaotic life—the trauma, the fear, the anger. It forced me to confront it all.
And now, I want you to know this:
It gets better.
The first few years are brutal. I won’t sugarcoat it. But if you can make it through those early storms (more like Category 5 Hurricanes), something beautiful waits on the other side. You’ll find meaning in the chaos, strength in the struggle, and a level of maturity beyond your imagination.
You'll discover who your true friends are and which family members truly stand by you. You'll learn to lean on your faith like oxygen when drowning in the depths of the ocean.
This isn’t the end of your story—it’s the beginning of a new one.
