relating

I realize that lots of times I feel this rush of relief when someone "gets it". Liam had a playdate last night. In the past, I haven't felt the need to tell other parents about his diagnosis, because I don't feel that it defines who he is. But lately, with the severity of his tics increasing, I feel the need to let them know so that they react well if he tics when they're with him. So I said to the mother "by the way, not sure if your son mentioned but Liam has Tourette Syndrome". Her response was "Yes, he told me, I worked with someone for years who has Tourettes. He's not allergic to anything is he? because I'm taking the boys out to eat." Whooooosh, rush of relief.
I had a similar experience when I told a friend with a special needs child about his diagnosis. She sent me this poem that I'd love to share with those of you who have not had the pleasure of reading it. It made me love her as a friend just that much more. She gets it.

Welcome to Holland

by
Emily Perl Kingsley.

c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved
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.