Lately I have been mourning the loss of conceving a child of our own. My SIL is pregnant with a beautiful baby girl!!! We are so excited about welcoming Rylee Elizabeth into our lives, but this also brings up feelings of inadequecy and depression for me and Ryan. It never crossed our minds when we first got married that we would not be having a little one of our own. I did want to eventually adopt, but not before we had our own babies. I dreamed of us having a boy and a girl, living in a nice home and having a secure future in our careers. That is the way its suppose to be right? Well, I guess God had other plans. There is a poem I would like to share with you that I found on the web which describes how I feel sometimes. So here it is.
Welcome To Holland
Emily Perl Kingsley
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.
This poem makes me think about the fact that we planned to have our own children. I bought a bunch of book about how to conceive and how to be a wonderful parent. Then when we found out we could not conceive I was devastated. Those around me were having their own children and learning all they could about parenthood. Instead of reading “What to expect when your expecting” I was reading “How to adopt”. Totally different language and community. Like I said I do still mourn about our own “change of plans”, but I know that that pain will subside when we become parents through the miracle of adoption.