Welcome to Holland

Several years ago, I was facing a complete hysterectomy at the young age of thirty-five. Not only that, but I had never married or had children. This was and is one of the most devastating experiences of my life. Throughout this, I worked in an ob-gyn practice (lots of fun, dealing with pregnant ladies, when you are learning to face the fact that the person in the exam room will never be you). Someone, led by the Holy Spirit I know, told me the following story. I wanted to share it with you, my friends:

Welcome to Holland
Parenting a Special Needs Child
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 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 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 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 guidebooks. 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 many never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.

There is so much truth in this that applies to every situation. Even infertility. I looked at my mother this afternoon (we are in this valley together) and we decided that it applied to us right now. We are going to celebrate through these coming days. We are going to find a way to enjoy the coming holidays. Even though it won't be what we had planned. Even though it won't be Italy, we will learn out how to celebrate in Holland.