Saturday, November 12, 2011


So yesterday evening I had the chance to speak with a wonderful woman whose son has SB and has a similar case as our little guy. It was so wonderful to hear about how great her son is doing at 12 and made me feel so much more comforted in our situation. I know that everyone will be different but to hear that her son is striving so well gave me a sense of peace. She brought up this poem/story about a unexpected trip to Holland, it captured exactly how it feels. I'm a a total type A personality and when I had Bella (my first child) everyone said "get used to letting go of some control".  I did have to give up some control in life with her but being the type A personality that I am I found ways to make things work "my way".  I'm now realizing that this time is different, I either need to change my personality type or at least learn to bend a bit. So here I am, bending... Or at least trying!

Here's the poem~

Welcome to Holland by Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability- to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this…
When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip -to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.” ” Holland?!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”
But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay. The important thing is they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around… and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills… and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy…and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away… because the loss of that dream is a very, very significant loss.
But… if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely hings …about Holland.

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