Welcome to Holland

“I am different, not less.” 

 Temple Grandin

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 and to imagine how it would feel. This poem was given to me when my girl was just eight years old and it changed my entire view of what I was given. In time this poem made more and more sense to me as I learned to not only accept the challenges that we had but also see that she was literally the little spark of goodness that opened so many doors for me to heal, and as a result it led me to do the magical work that I do with people with brain injuries and other disabilities in my community.

Today, I am proud to say my girl has grown into a sweet, kindhearted and somewhat independent young woman. She enjoys her volunteer job at the local animal shelter and loves caring for her dog, Emma. I was able to renovate my house a few years ago so that she has her own make shift apartment in my home where she lives with her dog as independently as possible. It has been my goal and focus that she become as self-sufficient as possible, not just for her own well-being but also because the reality is I will not live forever and I want her to either have success in supported living in the community, or be the least big of a burden to one of her brothers should they choose to have her live with them.

She has surpassed so much more than what anyone ever thought she’d be able to do. Of course, this came with decades of advocating, teaching and patience on my part and her willingness to do hard things.

This poem was the game changer for me and our life together navigating one of the hardest forms of parenting. Please feel free to pass this along to another parenting navigating this strange, yet beautiful experience.

Welcome to Holland

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.

Photo by Michal Knotek on Pexels.com

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Roller Skates

I was about twelves years old and shopping with my mom at my local K-mart when I learned the most valuable lesson she may have ever instilled in me.

For months prior to this day, I was becoming obsessed with rollerskating and spent every Friday evening at the local rink wishing the boy I was crushed on would ask me to slow skate with him, eating lemon heads with my girlfriends and basically feeling what freedom away from your parents felt like. I watched as some of the other girls started to show up with fancy white leather roller-skates with pink wheels and that amazingly cool toe stop. I noticed that some girls even got snazzy shoe-laces to make their cool skates look even cooler. These girls were no longer renting the smelling unisex brown and red skates that usually had a sticky wheel or some other defect, instead they looked like movies stars skirting around the rink. In my mind I was also convinced that they got asked to skate the slow skates with cute boys because of the skates, but I could have been wrong.

The late afternoon day at K-mart I was eyeing the same white leather with pink stopper skates that all the popular girls where bringing to the skating rink in a cool bag. I had been wearing old metal skates around my neighborhood that you just wore with your sneakers. Lame. I wanted to glide around my neighborhood and carry them into the rink on Friday like the popular girls. I wanted so badly to have these skates.

My mom found me in the aisle and I begged her with all my begging ability to buy the skates for me. They were priced at $10.97 and they had my size. They fit perfectly and I was about as excited as a girl could have been.

Nope. Her response to me asking was, “Save up your money and when you have enough, I will bring you back”.

She was not going to buy me roller-skates when I had “perfectly good ones at home that fit just fine“. She did not want to hear that other girls had them because that was the last thing she cared about (another amazing lesson). My mom was the type of mom that you did not ask twice if the answer the first time wasn’t what you wanted. You just learned to accept the answer no matter how crushed you might have been.

I was crushed.

I remember fighting back the tears and feeling so frustrated that she would not buy them for me. I was mad and jealous all at the same time. Why did I have to be the stupid paper girl tossing newspapers onto people’s porches, smelling like ink and being laughed at? Why couldn’t I just be the pretty girl that had fancy new skates with sparkly shoelaces and whatever else fad that came along?

Because my mom was teaching me the value of earning what you think you need. She was teaching me the value of waiting until you can get it yourself. She was teaching me the reward of working hard and saving up for something. She was teaching me that I can provide for myself.

What a gift that was and one that has served me so well. In fact I would rather work hard, save up for something and know that I earned it, than be given something. It feels richer knowing that I made choices to get something I wanted and I certainly learned to take really good care of what I worked myself to get.

The lesson that day is one of what people call a defining moment.

I will say that walking into the skating rink the next Friday night felt pretty amazing. The skates glided and I felt so good. I would love to say the boy asked me to skate, but he didn’t. That is okay because I gained so much self-value that I didn’t need a silly boy to hold my hand to the slow songs of Lionel Richie.

From that day forward, I polished my skates off after each use and prayed that my feet didn’t grow too fast. Oh, and my mom did end up buying me the sparkly laces and even made me a pom-pom to go on top.

The Privilege

The air was difficult to breathe; heavy with tension and with a denseness of uncertainty.  The fear of the unknown and the anxiety stifling our very breath.  We stood in unity, hands held, watching with anticipation. As the following moments unfolded, I witnessed something so beautiful it is hard to capture in written words.

Yesterday both of the boys were with their dad as he was removed from life support. After each boy said their goodbyes we stood in unison and watched the process through a window in the ICU unit.

The heaviness in the air was suffocating.

As we stood together, I reminded the boys that their father was there to help them enter this world, and now together, we get the opportunity to be there as he exited.

Moments following his head turned, sedated and confused his eyes shifted our way.  We all held our breath in stillness.

As if the time has stopped, I watched as my youngest son walked towards the window.  He placed his hands on the glass and gazed into the room.  With purpose and poise he re-entered his father’s hospital room.  I watched through the window as he spoke directly to his dad. I saw his dad look at him.  The space became still and light.  Slowly my older son joined his little brother. Side by side my two young men comforted their dad. They held his hands. They leaned over the bed fearlessly. With their hearts wide open they spoke to him and they loved him. Completely setting aside any of their own heartbreak that spanned years of disappointments, they gave their father the gift of unconditional love.

I witnessed my two boys elevate beyond any fear and open their hearts–wholeheartedly–to the space of compassion and of love.  They each faced this experience with courage and with grace.  In the following thirty minutes, I watched as they fully embraced their dad and the experience of death.  I felt the lightness in the air.  The peace enveloped all three of them and the healing between them happened.  I saw with my own eyes an affirmation of each of my boys integrity, love, compassion and true grace.

I watched as they were each heroic in their unwavering support and compassion for their dad, and for each other.

And what a privilege it was to see.

Self-Care Series

School is back in session for most and that means many parents will have a little more time to think about themselves. For many, many, MANY years I neglected my own well being thinking that I was being a great mom by giving every ounce to my kids. Wrong.

Before long I was overweight, angry and exhausted.

Long ago, when someone mentioned to me the idea of practicing self-care, I had no idea what that could be and I had an immediate reaction that is was selfish.

Boy, have I ever come a long way.

Not sure what self-care looks like for you? For each of us it can mean so many things. There is no one-size fits all when it comes to self care.

The good news is, if you are not sure what self-care can be, I can help! I have an amazing virtual self-care package that includes a variety of tools to help YOU take care of YOU. And the best part? It is self paced and can be done on YOUR time, in YOUR space, but with my loving support.

Check this out! I’d love to walk alongside with you on finding YOU again.

DIY Bubble Bath

I am a gal who takes a bubble bath soak everyday…it is part ritual of letting my day go and part soaking my tired bones.
That store bought bubble bath has so many things that are harsh to skin and as we know, our skin absorbs everything.
Check out this easy and fun bubble bath! My fave essential oils to add are lavender and siberian fir.

DIY Bubble Bath

Ingredients

1 cup unscented castile soap

½ cup vegetable glycerin

2 tablespoons water

15 drops preferred doTERRA essential oil

Instructions

1 Combine castile soap, glycerin, and water into glass bowl

2 Add essential oils

3 Stir until well combined

4 Pour into glass container.

5 To use, add ¼–½ cup of the essential oil bubble bath mixture to warm, running bath water.

Note: These bubbles are not going to provide big fluffy bubbles that last a long time since it doesn’t contain the synthetic ingredients that create the high amounts of lather or foam. However, this chemical-free bath will provide enough bubbles for a relaxing and therapeutic bath you will enjoy even more.

Blue Magic

See ya later chronic pain and inflammation.

??yarrrow/Pom. (It’s the prettiest blue)

?? tumeric

?? copaiba.

? boom!

If you don’t have a wholesale account, it’s super easy to get! You get wholesale pricing for one year! You get either pay the $35 for the account (like Costco) and choose your oils, or if you grab a starter kit that comes with your membership!

1) Go to my.doterra.com/staciewyatt

2) Click Become a Member

3) Fill in your personal information (If needed, my enroller/sponsor id is 1200119)

4) Choose a Starter Kit or select the Wholesale Membership Fee option

5) Add oils and products

6) Complete payment & process

7) Message me and I will get your welcome gift in the mail