'She Probably Won't Be a Star Soccer Player'

It was a throwaway line, really. One of those things that someone adds to the end of an explanation as a way to lighten the mood. It was harmless.

"She probably won't be a star soccer player."

Our pediatrician, whom we love, said this about Aurora at her one-year checkup. I'm not sure I'll ever forget it.

Aurora, that sweet little set of cheeks up in the photo, has always been a little behind. She was born six weeks early, sat late, crawled late (really just started!), and will walk late. Probably.

We knew this was a possibility and maybe even likely because of Aurora's prematurity. We assumed she'd catch up by the one-year mark because that's what everyone said at the time. She hasn't. She's close, but she's still a bit behind.

"Yes, she has something we call low muscle tone," the pediatrician began. "It's not bad or anything. She'll be fine. It's just that she probably won't be a star soccer player."

I didn't tell Bridget at the time (still haven't actually, so she's probably just learning this now), but that moment was one of my toughest thus far as a parent.

The truth is I don't need Aurora to be a star soccer player. I mean, I'd like her to be because I love sports and soccer. (I've written about this before.) But if she never kicks a ball into the back of a net, I'll be just fine.

What bothered me the most was that there was a door that might be closed to her.

I'm not naive enough to think my daughters will be the best at everything they do. Or even the second best. They'll be good at some things and not so good at other things, but I want, more than anything, them to have the opportunity to try to be the best at everything. I want them to be able to put their minds and hearts into something and succeed at that thing.

That attitude may seem selfish and perhaps a little bit callous, depending on the reader. That is not the intention. I realize that some kids never have that chance to walk across a soccer field or any field, for that matter. Some kids are born with physical or mental limitations. Some develop those limitations as they grow.

Aurora may develop limitations, too. In fact, there's a chance she'll never catch up. That reality is unlikely, but it's possible.

And that's one of the hardest things about being a parent. You have this thing (or things) that you love more than you could ever imagine and, for a lot of their lives, you're stuck on the sidelines watching and hoping. You have no control.

Understanding and embracing that lack of control is something I need to work on as a Dad. So what if she won't be a star soccer player? Maybe she will be! Or maybe she'll at least be an average soccer player. But if not, she'll be a great painter. Or a talented writer. Or a curious scientist. Or a captivating teacher.

One thing I know for sure: She'll be something. And, no matter what, soccer star or not, I'll be on the sidelines cheering as loudly as I can.