Enough with Holland

I am in the midst of one of the most emotional and gratifying processes of my entire life...this project has become a physical embodiment of the deepest love I've ever known. I've gone over it and over it because every word on every page has to be right - I owe that to Lucas.

I can't help myself from reading daily articles from around the globe on issues of T21. Some focus on hard science, some on treatment, and some on social issues. Usually hard science excites me because the more we understand the more we can affect, the ones on treatment bore me because the majority of the ideas are rehashed paradigms from decades past; where therapy was reactive and delay-based.

The articles written on societal issues probably give me the most insight, not because of the content of the actual article, but because of the comments that follow. Today, I came across a comment from whom I don't know, but she was explaining what "Welcome to Holland" was all about - I won't bore you with it, I'm sure you've had it shoved down your throat as the most compassionate and beautiful pieces of "literature" ever written.

Am I the only one who is insulted by the insinuation that my son was an "mistake" that I will learn to see the beauty in and maybe even love someday??? I guess if you are an outsider who reads it, it wouldn't occur to you, but this piece of "literature" is handed out like medication to alleviate the anxiety of new moms with a baby who has T21 (among other diagnoses). It is handed out in prenatal classes and support groups. Maybe over 20 years ago when it was penned it offered some consolation, but today???

I tell you what, if I got on a plane expecting to go to Italy and ended up anywhere else, I'd have somebody's ass for it. They'd pay me royally for the screw up that caused me inconvenience, money, and wasted my vacation time. I'd demand all sorts of things in my anger and disbelief and under no conceivable circumstance would I get off the plane, look around and say, umm....well, maybe.....

Having my son was like getting on the plane and having it crash, then  jubilantly realizing I was still alive... and not only was I still alive, but I loved life more, I loved my children more, I was more determined than ever before to toss out the crap that wasn't important and spend the rest of my life trying to live up to the beautiful and amazing gift I had been given. I saw beauty in things I never noticed before, and I felt power in the fact that I had these insights that I previously couldn't have fathomed.

My son was not second best, he wasn't something I needed to learn to accept, he wasn't Holland ... he wasn't even Italy.

He was and is one of the most amazing children I've ever known, he's the child I'd die for a million times, and will spend the rest of my life changing the world for.