I
found this poem on another girls blog but I do not know who
originally posted it. Of course it's touching as I deal everyday with
the roller coaster of emotions of Liam and Fragile X
and how it's changed our lives forever. I wonder if I will ever just
feel okay with everything? Some days are good and some not so
much. As me and John are in praying and waiting to see if we
will blessed with another baby...I too wonder what it will be like
for Liam to have a sibling. I think Liam will be a great big brother
and it will be good for him to have a brother or a sister. To have a
typically developing child....will it make me ache even more for Liam
to be "typical"? To see what comes so easily for most
kids that Liam has to work so incredibly hard at? Our sweet little
Liam. I love you.
Of
course...
There
are the days that I wouldn’t trade Holland for the world
The
days that I stand in awe of the windmills’ quaint majesty
And
marvel at the overwhelming beauty of the tulip fields
There
are the days that I scoff at Italy
The
days that I feel downright sorry for those who have never been to
Holland
Never
wondered at the beauty created by Rembrandt’s brush
What
they are missing here, I tell myself
Poor
souls!
How
much richer they’d be for a visit someday
For
a walk in these wooden shoes
**
And
then there are the days that I look more closely at the Dutch
landscape
The
days that I see past the tulip fields to the mothers wringing their
hands, waiting – always waiting
The
days that I see the doctors – the specialists and therapists –
everywhere it seems, filling the streets, doffing their caps as they
move from one house to the next – an endless conveyor belt of
service and need
There
are the days that I see the siblings, struggling with dual
citizenship in two dramatically different nations – neither of
which they can fully claim as their own
There
are the days that I can no longer smell the fragrance of the flowers
for the stench of desperation and fear
The
days that I send my girls off on the train, backpacks full with
supplies for their daily trip to Italy
Knowing
that only one of them speaks a word of Italian
Relying
on a host of translators and guides to keep my youngest safe on such
desperately foreign soil
There
are the days that my heart simply breaks because I can’t make the
whole world speak Dutch
There
are the days that I watch the planes flying in – filled with
mothers clutching their children, looking out the window, ready to
point to the Spanish Steps and the Colosseum – knowing they’ll
find out soon enough, that’s not where they are
There
are the days when I wonder if my son even notices the windmills, or
the tulips – if he knows there are Rembrandts here
Or
if he simply wishes that he were in Rome
**
There
are the days that I see my Holland for what it really is
A
breathtakingly beautiful place
A
place full of love and compassion
Freedom
and camaraderie
And
a place where children hurt and mothers’ hearts ache with the
impotence of not being able to make it better
-Unknown-