A Dad's Dream

Long ago I thought about all the things I would get to do as a dad.  I thought about all the things my dad did with me.  I admired him for all the time he spent with my brother and I (and I still to this day consider my dad to be my hero).  Don't get me wrong, I love my mom but as others can attest, there is something special between a father and son.

When I found out I was going to have twin boys, I dreamt big.  Days of playing soccer, baseball, and golf danced in my head.   Lazy Saturdays watching college football and then playing catch outside.  Riding bikes or just running around the house were all things to look forward to.  And now?  Do I feel like I have been cheated?  Nope.  Not in the least.  It took me awhile to get over the idea that it wasn't fair.  It took me awhile to embrace the idea of being a parent of a special needs (which I don't necessarily like that phrase) child.  But I am there.  I have arrived.  I don't think anyone would question the love Kristi and I have for our kids.  Isaac and Elias Murdock.  Our boys.  We love them unconditionally.  Today is my 36th birthday.  I am thankful for so many things.  But at this moment I am most thankful for being given the gift of patience and the gift of an open mind.

Here's why.  Below is a poem that was written quite some time ago.  But it sums up my experience so far as a dad.  I can't wait to see what is next.

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.