Notes From a Teary-Eyed Radical Behaviorist

Welcome to Holland
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 many 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 plan 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 go to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things… about Holland.
--- Emily Pearl Kingsley
Reader Comments (2)
Here is a little piece Pam Osnes sent me, which is just what I needed as I prepare to meet with some members of the ABAI Practice Board.
--Dick
Hi Dick,
I love this. Someone sent it to us when Diego was diagnosed with Wililam's Syndrome. At the time, Holland seemed like little consolation (though we were relieved that we weren't looking at anything more gruesome or fatal as our journey through diagnosis led us to some pretty dark places.) Now, I have to say, I wouldn't trade Holland for anything. Maybe I'm just one of the lucky parents who gets to experience both destinations, as we have so many kids. I guess I'm also lucky because William's is at the entire OTHER end of the spectrum, to the left of typical kids. We never have to wonder what Diego is feeling, or how much he loves us, his friends, or complete strangers. For that matter. We always say Diego knows no strangers. Everyone is just someone who loves him, they may just not know it yet.
Anyway, just wanted to send you a note to say hi and thanks for sharing this. ABAI is lucky to have you for a leader.
Take care,
Beth
[Author Note: Beth Trojan Suarez got her PhD with me a few years ago and during that process co-authored a couple editions of (Elementary) Principles of Behavior.]