Forging an Art

Heard this on 98.1 this morning on the way to work – and since it has already been “one of those days” it did, of course, speak to me. And yes, people who find out that one of my kids is autistic do ask questions – and since he is my oldest and the one who ‘taught’ me to parent, it is hard to explain what parenting a child who does not exactly ‘fit in’ is like. We are fortunate that his sister does not have any problems and is about as ‘normal’ as anyone I know – more so than me, which isn’t saying much, really – and socially, the two are completely opposites. Personality-wise, they are similar and much like me, so I ‘get’ them more than others might – and I understand him more than anyone does, although it’s hard to know what is going on inside that little world that operates in his head. This is what Matt Patrick read on the radio this morning, and those of you with ‘special needs’ family and friends will see how this makes complete sense. Except the part about it being slower – because my ride has never been slow by any means.

THE BEAUTY OF HOLLAND
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 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 guidebooks and make your wonderful vacation plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very, 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 flight attendant comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland”.
“Holland?” you say. “What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy! I am supposed to be in Italy. All my life I dreamed of going to Italy.”
But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They landed in Holland and there you must stay.
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 in Italy.
It’s just a different place. It’s slower- paced than Italy, less flashy. But after you’ve been there for a while and catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills. Holland has tulips. Holland even had Rembrandts.
Everyone you kow 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 suppposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, go away, because the loss of that dream is a 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 special, the very lovely things about Holland.