If you’re a parent of a child with a disability or special needs, you’ve probably heard of the poem “Welcome to Holland” by Emily Perl Kingsley. The poem talks about booking a trip to Italy, researching the country and all the activities you’ll do and cuisine you’ll eat, then you get on your flight and for some reason you get flown to Holland instead. While you’re shocked and having a lot of feelings about the unexpected change in plans, you eventually come to find that Holland is a beautiful country filled with its own rewards. This is of course a giant metaphor for expecting a certain life for your child, finding out your baby or young child has these disabilities or challenges, but finding beauty in the new life you are leading with your precious child.
Hate it or love it, I can see where this poem is coming from. I do believe in finding beauty and joy in the situation you are put in, and of course we all love our children so very much. However, the whole “planning” a trip does not really fit for a parent whose child has a devastating brain disease and brain injury. I was IN Italy. I KNEW Italy. And then it disappeared. So here is my version of “Welcome to Holland”:
Thrown Out of Italy
by Summer Wilton
When you have a child, you learn them day by day. Even as a baby, you start to see your child’s personality develop. Their likes and dislikes, their interests, and what makes them laugh. The people they cling to and siblings they follow around and emulate. By toddler years, a full blown personality, rife with quirky sayings and performances has emerged. You foresee what your child might be in the future based on how they are as a child.
It’s like going to Italy. You prepared for a long time and researched what you would do in Italy. You pack your bags, get on the airplane, and land….in Italy. As planned. There are hard moments of course as you learn the language and get lost. But you decide to live there permanently, and handle lifes ups and downs, loving it! Italy is great! You buy a house, get a job, make friends, start a family.
Until one day, you’re strolling along to get groceries, when a van comes by and a masked figure jumps out of it and scoops you up. They blindfold you and put you inside. You feel the ground moving beneath you, but you have no idea where you’re going or what lies ahead. You’re terrified. You have to figure out how to survive. Am I going to survive this? You’re put in a warehouse where the strange masked figures torture you for some time; you’re not quite sure how long. You’re still trying to figure out where you are. You’re doing whatever it takes to survive.
Finally, after months, maybe years – you’re not sure – have passed, you see a light in the corner of this damp, dark warehouse. Each night, while your captors are sleeping, you slowly dig with bare fingernails into the earth surrounding this one point of light. Surely you are going to get somewhere eventually if you keep looking to the light and keep taking tiny steps towards freedom every day. And one night, the hole is open enough for you to slither your way out.
The sun is almost blinding. It takes a few minutes to adjust, but you do it while running full speed towards safety. You trip and stumble along the way. Finally, you reach a main road and look at the signs. Somehow, you are now…in Holland.
It’s a whole new place. Yes, it has beautiful pieces. But you grieve the life you left in Italy. The people who stayed in Italy and aren’t coming to Holland with you. The place you knew and loved is now gone. You can learn Holland but you will always grieve Italy. It might not hit you every day. But there will be days when you look through your photos of Italy and your heart breaks all over again. All while you’re still doing your very best and moving forward with a new life… in Holland.