Welcome to Holland is a shore sweet essay that people use to explain what it is like to have a child with special needs. It's full of tulips and guidebooks and warm fuzzy feelings. It skips the agony of finding out and the struggle of coming to grips with your new reality as a parent to a child with special needs and goes straight to the happy ending.
A more accurate analogy would be this:
Imagine planning a trip to Italy for you and your partner. You get your guidebooks, your luggage, your wardrobe and your plane tickets. You research everything about Italy so you'll be ready when you arrive. You make reservations. You talk with friends and family about their wonderful trips to Italy and the fun that they had. The two of you talk everyday about how much you want to go to Italy and how amazing it's going to be when you get there.
You get on the plane and take off. Suddenly, without explanation, the plane is diverted. Then at 5000 feet you and your partner are yanked out of your seats, strapped into parachutes you only vaguely understand, and tossed out the door.
Some how you manage to make it to the ground.
At first, you just sit there, clinging to one another, checking to see if you have any broken bones. Once you're done thanking God that your still alive, you dust yourselves off and look at the terrain. You look at each other and reassure one another that you are going to get out of this place.
Your first few days in the desert are exhausting. Just getting your basic needs are met feels overwhelming. You feel alone, terrified and honestly - your not sure if you're going to make it. Sometimes you fight, not because either of you is doing anything wrong -but because you're both tired and frustrated, there is sand everywhere, not enough water and there is no one else left to yell at.
After many days of struggle, you finally make it to a village. The first thing you find out when you arrive, is that this settlement is made up of people who also got dumped out of a plane.
This is what they tell you:
- We are on the moon!
- No, this is Arizona.
- No, we're in the Australian Outback!
- It's the airlines fault
- No, it's the flight attendant who pushed us out
- Oh! Another passenger pushed me out. How did that crazy person get passed TSA?
- There is no hope of rescue.
- Wait! There is a rescue effort underway.
- There is an 80% chance you and your partner are going to crumble under the strain of this experience
- No, you won't, this experience will make you stronger!
- The dessert is a gift!
- No, it's not. It's a war and war is hell!
Trying to make sense of this, you look around and say, "How did this happen? What made our plane go off track when all the other planes made it to their destination just fine? If we'd only flown on a different airline. Who is right? Are we going to get a divorce or not? Is there a rescue party coming? Why are all of you talking at once?"
Everyone in the crowd starts to shout LOUDER. Their voices jumbling into a unintelligible cacophony. Then, it dawns on you that maybe there are no right or wrong answers, because no one really knows. This is more terrifying than any answer you could have heard.
So despite being overwhelmed, despite struggling for the basic necessities and despite not knowing how you got there, you get on with the business of living your life. It's hard. It makes you angry, not at anyone in particular, just angry because it was not supposed to be this way. There are moments when the absurdity of it all makes you laugh. You and your partner discover that are gorgeous sunsets in the desert and here, the stars shine with a crystalline clarity. You smile a little more often and you realize that going to get water every day is doable once you know where the water hole is. You're scared sometimes, yes, but not as often as when you first landed. There are days when you wake up and wonder how you will ever make it through. At times, you're lonely for all of the friends you had that went on the Italy. Sometimes you don't recognize the person you're becoming or the person your partner her transformed into.
The desert is your new normal and once it becomes familiar, it's more understandable. You know which plants are poisonous, how to get sand out of your sleeping bag and how to be patient when your partner is screaming "ALL I EVER WANTED WAS BISCOTTI!" The path to the water hole is well worn. You learn to handle your own meltdowns and you figure out that there are some wonderful people here in the village. Your skin gets toughened by the sun, and you realize that you don't need Starbucks to get through the day.
Sometimes at the end of the day, as you gaze up at the endless sky, you wonder, "What would Italy have been like?" But then you realize that the desert has become your home -and you would not give it up for the world.
(I did not write this - was sent to me, but resonated with my personal experience)
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