Welcome to Holland

This was sent to me by one of my bestest friends...as boat reading material. (see previous blog entry)
It's tres fabulosa!


"Welcome to Holland"


By Emily Perl Kingsley, 1987. All rights reserved.

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.

Word of the day: Frustration

Frustration. That could seriously be the word of just about every day around here. Husband. Wife. Four kids. Dog. There's a lot of room for crazy here at the Happy Hilbert House.

Today it is the word of the day because of child number three. Well, not because of him, exactly...but, because his brain is wired a little differently. Josh has Sensory Processing Disorder. He was diagnosed two years ago and we have been on a wild ride ever since.

Let's just assume my brain is wired correctly. (Yes, I know this may be a big leap, but humor me, okay?) I'm sitting in the kitchen at the computer. If I focus and listen hard I can hear the clock ticking, the computer keys, the furnace, the ringing phone, my breathing. If I concentrate on my sense of touch I can feel the keys as I press them, the phone in my hand, my soft shirt, my dry skin on my legs, my sore throat, my wet hair, and my sore neck muscles. I taste my tea, know it's hot, and smell its wonderful smell. I can smell the dog, too. That smell isn't so great. Because my brain is wired correctly, I have "volume" control on all these things. That's a good thing. Can you imagine what it would be like to try to think and act and behave with everything you see, touch, hear, smell, and experience shouting at you at the same level?

Well, that's my Josh. He processes different. He is overwhelmed by just experiencing life. Once he's hyper-stimulated, that's when the crazy behavior starts. Also, if he doesn't get enough movement and motion and working of his muscles, that need manifests in aggression. We are in the middle of a very difficult season with him right now. All we have done and are doing no longer seems to help.

We've taken Josh to therapy. We've gone to Occupational Therapy with him. We've read many books. We've talked to other parents. We've joined yahoo groups. We've read internet sites. We've taken a class at Easter Seals. We've worked with Josh. We've worked with his teachers. I think really we've exhausted our resources.

So. I am frustrated. I'm frustrated by the way this changes my life and his life. I am frustrated by the way things pop up out of the blue and put my plans and dreams on hold. I am frustrated that I'm not the one in the driver's seat. But, I am also ever so in love with the little guy and I have no doubt that God has big plans for him.

What I am coming to terms with is that Josh isn't a problem to be solved. He is a person to be loved. I can't cure him. I can help him learn to cope with his surroundings a bit better. He will continue to "outgrow" some of his issues. He will become more adept at managing his symptoms. But, we will continue to take steps forward and slides back for many more years. And I'm in for the duration.

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. Romans 5:1-5