Welcome to Holland

Having a child with a disability that others cannot see is never easy. When a child looks perfectly normal on the outside, people get the wrong impressions. They just don't get it, when things don't look like they should be off from the norm.

Everyday occurrences can become huge ordeals. The grocery store can be so over stimulating, that it becomes a nightmare. Your child becomes so uncontrollable, you feel like sitting down and sobbing, laughing or just giving up. Then you get the dirty looks from other parents with the perfectly behaving child. Parents that do not see the broken down, crazy wirings in the brain of a child, with hidden special needs.

I once had a bus driver ask why my child was on the special needs bus. The driver mentioned my child doesn't "look" handicapped. I told him some handicaps aren't as noticeable on the outside. Yes the child is a physical powerhouse, but the same child would be happy to go in a stranger's big truck because it is cool and doesn't understand what is safe.

Having a child with any disability is a lot like this poem: (an oldie but really hits home)

Welcome to Holland- written by Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability -- to try to help people who have not shared the 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 guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. Michelangelo's "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 flight attendant comes 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 guidebooks. 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, 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 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 special, the very lovely things about Holland.-