I have one daughter, age 21, who lives alone in Texas. She was born there and chose to remain there when I moved back to my native Virginia.
Her father is an alcoholic, as am I. Although I have 24 years of continuous sobriety, I also struggle daily with the barely-manageable condition called bi-polar disorder. There are people on this forum who would tell you that bi-polar disorder, like alcoholism, is just a matter of a weak will, but I guarantee you it is a biochemical disorder of the brain which causes havoc, wreckage and misery for a lifetime. I have been on medication for 20 years to try to level out the highs and lows.
I wanted to have a child because I needed to have the experience of pregnancy, natural birth and child-rearing. I had always been interested in child development, having studied it in school, but I hardly ever did any baby-sitting as a teenager. I was drawn to the freedom of the child’s mind, the non-encumbrance of worries and cares. I anticipated the adventure with great enthusiasm, awe and reverence.
By the time I went into labor I knew I would be raising the child by myself. When she was 15 month old I filed for divorce from her father and have never regretted it. As it turns out, my daughter also has some very serious mental and emotional problems, as well as severe physical difficulties which actually brought us together rather than tore us apart, in spite of the fact that I was at wits’ end with every successive medical situation and thought I would lose my mind.
Today my daughter is the most remarkable person I know. She still has problems, some of which are considerable. She is working to overcome her fears and find the willingness to embrace her world rather than recoil from it. As her mother I can give guidance but I cannot stand over her and protect her as I did when she was 2 and 10 and 16. She’s a stand-alone unit now, but she will always be my remarkable, beautiful, funny, exceptionally bright daughter, who said to me at age 18 months: "Momma, look at Maryann’s Christmas tree! Isn’t it splendid?**"
Parenthood is not always what one anticipates. Every October, “Dear Abby” prints the following piece, which states the experience very clearly. This has been my experience. Hope you enjoy it:
"Welcome To Holland
by Emily Perl Kingsley
©1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved. Article printed with permission of the author.
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with 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."
marietta