The Beauty of Fate
On the day my daughter Ava was born, my journey as a parent of a child with special needs began, as did my insight into such an excursion. Early on, I had accepted her diagnosis of spina bifida, but knew nothing of the realities. It certainly is not something anyone can be prepared for, and it often takes struggle after struggle to accept such fate, if you ever really do. I often yearn to give her abilities that fall beyond her reach - walking unaided, running in the yard, dancing. I've been furious, heartbroken and jealous. But I move through the challenges and the ugly feelings because I've experienced such extreme joy in my life with Ava.
Recently, I found a short article someone had shared with me. It provides a glimpse into what parents experience when having a child with a disability. I'm sharing it because I feel it could really apply to any challenges in life that lead you down a path you weren't expecting to go. I hope it provides strength for those who need it.
The Beauty of Holland
By Emily Pearl Kingsley
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to help people who have not shared that unique experience 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 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'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 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 guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would have never 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. Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're 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 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 very lovely things about Holland.