Nine years ago our daughter was still in the hospital and we, first-time parents, were eager to have her home. Within hours of her birth she endured more than any baby– or any adult for that matter–should. In my delirium of child birth and ensuing trauma, I absurdly asked the doctor if she would be capable of sports should she survive. Crazy, I know. But chaos can lead to crazy. I suppose I was gauging her future and ours–were we looking at a lifetime of portable oxygen? Complex medical devices? Endless surgeries?

I learned a crucial fact of parenthood quite quickly: Perspective is a gift.

For days we didn’t know what she actually looked like beneath the various tubes, wires and machines connected to her. If only someone back then could have given me a glimpse of the future– that nine years down the road our little hockey player would be draped not in tubes and wires but in this: a flashy silver medal. And sheer joy.

What a stark contrast to the silver around the necks of the US women’s hockey team. Just minutes ago they “lost” gold and had to accept silver. Heartbreak was written all over their tearful faces. I feel for them. I feel for their mothers. No doubt they gave much over the years– well beyond tying laces and washing stinky gear. Now they have the hardest job yet:  encouraging their girls to feel proud of their accomplishments and to use this disappointment to fuel the fire for four more years.

Absurd dreamers realize great achievements. Maybe our little heart-patient-turned-hockey-stud has reached her peak, or maybe she has just begun. As for me, I’ll keep tying laces and washing stinky gear for as long as she wants.