Holland

By Cornelia


If you have a kid with a developmental disability, sooner or later you will run across a famous essay by Emily Perl Kingsley, titled "Welcome to Holland."

It is a beautiful thing, in many ways, so I'll reproduce it here:

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.

She is right. This is not to say that you won't have days when you think, "fuck Holland. And the wooden shoes it rode in on."

Or days when you think, "If this is Holland, where are the damn hash bars, because I could totally use one right now, not to mention some gin."

This is because, while these tulips are very beautiful flowers, they weigh as much as plutonium, and while your friends and family are off eating risotto in their gondolas, they are often too busy to remember that you're still carrying around the same old back-breaking bouquet of five-ton flowers and everything.



But in the end, Ms. Kinglsley has it right. Holland is a beautiful place, and there ARE Rembrandts--even Van Goghs, on the best days.



And there is a subtle and sublime state of mind I can only call "Dutch Courage" that you will never find in a gondola, no matter how hard you paddle.