I remember the day everything shifted for me.

We had a plan.

A detailed one.

A calm, natural birth
with a midwife,
a doula,
and even a playlist
we carefully curated for a home birth.

But life had other plans.

Unexpected complications turned everything upside down
and suddenly we were in the middle of an emergency c-section
with doctors moving fast and tension filling the room.

And in that moment, I realized something.

No matter how carefully you plan life…
some moments arrive completely unannounced.

Moments that reveal who you really are.

Not who you think you are.

Who you actually are under pressure.

I remember realizing very quickly that I couldn’t afford to panic.

I needed to stay calm.
Positive.
Present.

Not just for my wife.

For my son too.

Things got worse before they got better.

He suffered multiple strokes during delivery
and was diagnosed with HIE, a brain injury caused by lack of oxygen.

They rushed him to Children’s Hospital for emergency cooling therapy for 72 hours.

At the same time,
my wife was recovering from an emergency blood transfusion
after complications during delivery.

Watching her fight through all of that
while still trying to be present for our son
gave me an even deeper respect for mothers.

Especially my wife.

Happy Mother’s Day, Sharee.

She was recovering from multiple surgeries and couldn’t travel with us.

She almost didn’t get to see him before he was transported.

I managed to have the paramedics wheel him past her room so she could see her son before transport.

I’ll never forget that moment either.

Every major organ in his little body had been affected.
At one point, we were told he would likely develop cerebral palsy.

There were a lot of difficult conversations during those days.

A lot of uncertainty.
A lot of possibilities no parent wants to hear.

Before they transported him, they let me go back and see him.

One of the doctors warned me beforehand.

His vitals were stable, but he hadn’t opened his eyes.

Hadn’t made a sound.
Hadn’t responded to anyone.

I walked over to him and put my finger near his little hand.

And I said:

“Daddy’s here, son.”

He opened his big beautiful eyes immediately and grabbed my finger.

And in that moment…

Something in my spirit told me he was going to be alright.

Every day of the 31 days we were in the hospital,
I wore a hat that said “Think Positive.”

Not because I was pretending everything was okay.

But because I understood how important mindset, energy, and presence were in moments like that.

Every day I whispered in his ear:

“Your body works perfectly, son.
God is watching over you.
You are amazing.”

The doctors were careful not to give us false hope.

And I understood why.

But by the time we left the hospital,
even they were scratching their heads in amazement at his progress.

Life hasn’t been without challenges since then.

Around two years old,
he began having seizures
and was later diagnosed with autism.

We seem to have the seizures mostly under control now.

And today?

He’s enjoying life the way a four-year-old should.

Laughing.
Playing.
Running.
Jumping.
Climbing.
Learning.
Growing.

And through all of this, one thing became very clear to me:

Positivity is not pretending hard things don’t exist.

It’s choosing what kind of presence you bring into hard moments.

My son taught me that.

I love you, Rio.