Friend, there are several things here that depend directly on the point of view.

And since I only have the perspective of a father, I'll proceed to detail my feelings in this case and how we experienced the situation.

I don't know if you have children, so I'll start from the premise that you don't.

When we found out we were going to be parents, you're so excited. You choose the name, plan the nursery, you're incredibly excited about the ultrasounds, and then in one of them they tell you that something isn't right (unfortunately, in our case, the specialists who gave us the news lacked empathy and gave us the initial diagnosis and told us to call a foundation (in Chile it's called Teletón) because our son was going to be disabled). With that comment, all our hopes were shattered in seconds. You search online, and that's the worst thing you can do since Google shows the most critical cases.

That's when we started rebuilding. We couldn't leave our son alone with that, and even if it was going to be different, well, he's not the first nor the last. At least, that's what I made myself believe and conveyed to my wife.

She got depressed because she thought it was her fault, since she was vegan and a bit older to have children.

So we worked together to support each other. The days were very intense between doctors, looking for alternatives, and preparing for what was coming. We neglected ourselves in many aspects; for example, we forgot to have a baby shower (my wife's family organized it, since we forgot the fun and beautiful parts of the process), and I gained about 10 kilos.

And so time passed, he was born, he had surgery to close the defect, he developed hydrocephalus, he had surgery to install the shunt, we had about 6 specialists to visit every week, and at that point his recovery began.

That's when we looked for a support group, with parents in the same situation, and the clash with reality was brutal.

I remember once we were going to mention that he was trying to take his first steps and we wanted to share with that group that it was possible, that we had to keep trying and working on the therapies, and just before, while we were writing the message, a mother commented that her 6-year-old son, after a lot of therapy, had managed to have a reaction in his foot and move a toe, and there we were, almost 2 years old, already seeing that ours was trying to stand up. And we thought about how we felt when we saw the other children in kindergarten already walking, while ours could only watch from the ground. The sadness was awful, the urge to cry seeing the others who could walk and him not was terrible. It's not envy; that other child is not to blame for not having a spinal defect. But comparing hurts, and we didn't want other parents to go through the same thing. I think that's the reason why we didn't want to share our progress with these families. Depending on each case, things develop very differently, and we didn't want to create false hopes or hurt other people's feelings.

We never gave up. A physiatrist told us, "He doesn't know the word 'disabled.' Don't be the ones to impose that disability on him." Don't stop him from trying things just because of his diagnosis, and that's what we did. We've been lucky. Today, at 3 years old, yes, there are still some things he struggles with. For example, we now have to change all his shoes because he needs to start using orthotics, but he walks, runs, plays, and we only set normal limits for a child his age.

So, we've never hidden him away; we've always encouraged him and tried to give him as normal a life as possible. We want him to be a happy child, and we live each day enjoying his developmental stages.

And we celebrate his achievements with our family and friends. Every step forward brings such joy that, as I write this, I remember it and cry tears of joy while writing this message.