The 'Welcome To Holland' trilogy

When I came across the following three analogies a few years ago, I thought they were brilliant representations of what our life has been / is like. The first work is quite well known amongst the special needs community but the other two not so much. I wanted to post these today as a lead in to our story. I've made a few comments below each one but by the time you've read our story, you'll realise how accurate these works are!

"Welcome to Holland" By Emily Perl Kingsley, 1987

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.

Initially there were no guide books for us but we did literally learn a new language – Makaton; and we definitely met a whole new group of people but lost some friends too.

Life has mostly been far too busy to dwell on the fact that we never landed in Italy however, it’s always in the back of my mind. It does pop to the front from time to time, especially in recent months. Having said that, although we'll never know whether our idyllic family dream would have played out, when I look at the past 23 years as a whole and the experiences we've had, I'm quite happy with Holland! 

“Welcome to Holland (Part 2)" by Anonymous

I have been in Holland for over a decade now. It has become home. I have had time to catch my breath, to settle and adjust, to accept something different than I'd planned.

I reflect back on those years of past when I had first landed in Holland. I remember clearly my shock, my fear, my anger - the pain and uncertainty. In those first few years, I tried to get back to Italy as planned, but Holland was where I was to stay.

Today, I can say how far I have come on this unexpected journey. I have learned so much more. But, this too has been a journey of time. I worked hard. I bought new guidebooks. I learned a new language and I slowly found my way around this new land.

I have met others whose plans had changed like mine, and who could share my experience. We supported one another and some have become very special friends. Some of these fellow travellers had been in Holland longer than I and were seasoned guides, assisting me along the way. Many have encouraged me. Many have taught me to open my eyes to the wonder and gifts to behold in this new land. I have discovered a community of caring. Holland wasn't so bad.

I think that Holland is used to wayward travellers like me and grew to become a land of hospitality, reaching out to welcome, to assist and to support newcomers like me in this new land. Over the years, I've wondered what life would have been like if I'd landed in Italy as planned. Would life have been easier? Would it have been as rewarding? Would I have learned some of the important lessons I hold today?

Sure, this journey has been more challenging and at times I would (and still do) stomp my feet and cry out in frustration and protest. And, yes, Holland is slower paced than Italy and less flashy than Italy, but this too has been an unexpected gift.

I have learned to slow down in ways too and look closer at things, with a new appreciation for the remarkable beauty of Holland with its' tulips, windmills and Rembrandts.

I have come to love Holland and call it Home.

I have become a world traveller and discovered that it doesn't matter where you land. What's more important is what you make of your journey and how you see and enjoy the very special, the very lovely, things that Holland, or any land, has to offer.

Yes, over a decade ago I landed in a place I hadn't planned. Yet I am thankful, for this destination has been richer than I could have imagined!

Would life have been easier in Italy? From a medical viewpoint, absolutely without a doubt! Materialistically it might have been more rewarding – I may have had a successful career and therefore we’d have been financially better off. However, our lives have certainly been emotionally richer by living in Holland. I’m quite embarrassed when I think back to what I viewed as success 24 years ago but I don’t think my expectations were out of line with the general population. Whether I’d have learned important life lessons in Italy, I would like to think I would have at least learned some but I very much doubt all.

I definitely appreciate little things, even more so since Covid, and I’m glad that I’m forced to put on the brakes sometimes. I still wonder how I can be so busy when I don’t work, but I think I may have inherited that from my parents!

"Its Not Holland" by Rhyannon Morrigan (c) 2011

Imagine planning a trip to Paris for you and your partner. You get your guidebooks, your luggage, your wardrobe and your plane tickets. You research everything about Paris so you'll be ready when you arrive. You make make reservations. You talk with friends and family about their wonderful trips to Paris and how much fun they had. The two of you talk everyday about how much you want to go to Paris 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 ft you and your partner are yanked out of your seats, strapped into parachutes you only vaguely understand, and tossed out the door.

Somehow you manage to make it to the ground.

At first, you just sit, clinging to one another, checking to see if you have any broken bones. Once you're done thanking god that you're still alive, you dust yourselves off and look at the terrain. You look at each other and reassure one another that you're going to get out of this place.

Your first few days in the desert are exhausting. Just getting your basic needs met feels overwhelming. You feel alone, terrified and honestly you're 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 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 past TSA? There is no hope of rescue.

Wait! There is a rescue effort underway.

There is an 80% chance you and your treasured partner are going to crumble under the strain of this experience. No, you won't, this experience will make you stronger!

The desert 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 only we'd flown on a different airline. Who is right? Are we going to end up divorced 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 an unintelligible cacophony. Then, it dawns on you that maybe there are no right 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 wasn't supposed to be this way. There are moments when the absurdity of it all makes you laugh. You and your partner discover that there are gorgeous sunsets in the desert and here, the stars shine with crystalline clarity. You smile a little more often and you realise 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 are ever going to make it through. At times, you're lonely for all the friends you had who went to Paris. Sometimes you don't recognise this person you're becoming or the person your partner has 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 A CROISSANT!" The path to the water hole is well worn. You learn how 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 realise 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 Paris have been like?" But then you realise that the desert has become your home- and you wouldn't give it up for the world.

In some situations, I’ve felt like I hadn’t even been given a parachute!

In the early days my head was filled with how and why questions and feeling so completely overwhelmed that I couldn’t think clearly. I just couldn’t see how we’d get through. Was it my fault because I’d caught chickenpox early in the pregnancy? In one of my posts coming up, you’ll read about the impact of a relentless caring schedule.

It’s true, you do become comfortable with your new normal, although it’s unlikely to be the same forever. As with typically developing individuals, babies turn into children and then teenagers and adults. Not to mention unexpected symptoms introducing new surprises to keep you on your toes! We can't complain that life has been boring!

I just want to end today with this thought: “…..it doesn't matter where you land. What's more important is what you make of your journey…..”