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 that 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 guide books. 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 things ... about Holland.
Let me talk to you about my Mom. She also made the trip to "Holland", many years ago. Before there were IEPs and support groups and online information. My parents had no reason to think I was deaf. It wasn't until I was at the age where I should have started to speak, they became suspicious that something wasn't quite 100%. And, their journey began.
I didn't help much, let me tell you! I had them fooled because I could lipread at a very early age. There were times when I was responsive, and they thought, "no, she seems ok". Other days when they couldn't get my attention, and the concern would surface again. After two and a half years of doctors and searching and inconclusive tests, they finally had a diagnosis. Their daughter was deaf. I got my first hearing aid when I was five years old. To this day, I'm not sure what went through her mind. I do know she made up her mind I was going to have the same responsibilities and discipline as my brothers. She knew of other children with disabilities who were spoiled and she was NOT going to allow that to happen to me. Thank you, Mom - seriously.
I went to pubic schools, learned to speak well and did anything I set my mind too. I took music lessons, played softball, became a lifeguard, babysat, and was a typical kid for the most part. If she had a penny for every time she repeated something or corrected the way I pronounced something, she'd be a very rich woman. And, all the while doing this, I do not remember her ever losing her patience with me. She's also a real prayer warrior. God blessed me with the very best Mom ever! Happy Mother's Day! Love you
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