Posted on 07/12/2006 1:00:02 PM PDT by madprof98
We don't feel capable of raising a severely disabled child. It would be different if we didn't have a choice, but we do.
A tear creeps down my cheek when she says it's a girl. I don't know why that makes me cry.
I'd really rather not know. She assumes that like most expectant parents we want to know.
But as its turning out, we aren't like most expectant parents.
We could be, though. In many ways my 45-year-old husband and I could be perfect parents. We're professionals, with university degrees, own our own house, it's even paid off (we're financially careful yuppies). We're also fit -- we do Ironman events, marathons, play golf, travel and help support my parents. But being healthy, and looking 10 years younger isn't enough to fool the gods that govern genetics. It turns out my 40-year-old eggs don't give a hoot that I'm physically fit.
And now our unexpected late-life gift, our 19-week-old miracle is turning out to be tragically flawed. A dreaded extra chromosome -- a triple X -- has robbed us of a healthy baby, the geneticist quietly tells us our child will be significantly lower functioning than other children. Definitely not the treasured only child, the little athlete, we had only so recently and so tentatively allowed ourselves to dream about.
We leave the office in a fog. Instead of celebrating our seventh wedding anniversary this weekend, we now have to make a literally life-changing decision, one too sensitive to share with family or friends. No one has actually said the word, they don't have to. We know what our options: To continue the pregnancy or not?
I cry myself to sleep. My husband researches triple X on the computer. We have to decide quickly because it's already 19 weeks into the pregnancy. We don't feel capable of raising a severely disabled child. It would be different if we didn't have a choice, but we do. Isn't it more cruel to bring a child burdened with so many disadvantages into the world?
The geneticist's carefully chosen words describe the best-case scenario. What's the worst? my husband asks. Doctors won't speculate, but say if we decide to keep the child, they'd like to be "involved." (Ouch!)
We spend a tense weekend, each worried about the other's emotional state. We had already decided if it was a Down syndrome baby (one in 30 chance for a mother over 40) we wouldn't continue. I thought even my church-going mother (who goes door-to-door collecting money for those who are anti-abortion, and their pro-life campaign) could forgive that. But what about this situation; it's not quite Down syndrome, but it's close.
I already know we won't tell our parents.
My husband drives me to the non-descript house in a downtown Toronto neighbourhood. The security guard checks my name off her list and refuses to let my husband in (standard policy). I wait in the ominously quiet but cozy waiting room. I'm curious to see who else is here. A miserable-looking Asian woman, older and more visibly pregnant than I am studies her hands in her lap. I'm guessing she, too, has found something unbearable in her fetus. Two young women, with tattoos and a Queen Street vibe, seem nervous, but not grieving (I assume) unwanted pregnancies. I meet a lovely 47-year-old women from out of town. She has two children and a heart condition. She can't take birth control pills because of her age and health, and this unexpected pregnancy could be fatal. She's angry it took her doctor so long to figure out she was pregnant.
She had to drive two hours to get here.
The procedure is deceptively simple. Doctors call it a D & E , dilation and evacuate, better known as an abortion. The doctor inserts fragile slivers of seaweed into my cervix then waits for the porous pieces to swell and enlarge the opening. It takes two days. It's uncomfortable, but no worse that being pregnant. On the third day, when the cervix has dilated, the doctor clears out the uterus: the evacuation.
A nurse holds my hand throughout. It's oddly comforting. I keep my eyes shut, I don't want to see or hear anything. Afterward, I fight the urge to cry. Two women throw up -- a reaction to the medication. The nurse says they have 20 patients a day. I feel sorry for all of them.
Why can't we just go to the nearest hospital? I hate the sanctimonious people who have made this more difficult than it has to be. No one begrudges couples thwarting God's plan by spending tens of thousands of dollars on fertility drugs, in vitro treatments, donor eggs, sperm, and surrogate mothers -- they get sympathy. But if you don't want to keep a seriously flawed baby, you bundle your pain in guilt and shame.
The other woman waits for me to say goodbye. She whispers "Good luck, try again," and brings me to tears. My husband picks me up.
His work sends flowers to me: his wife who had a miscarriage.
That's what we tell our friends and parents as well.
C. Smyth lives in Toronto.
Good point!
You are wonderful, thanks so much for sharing this story.
My 2 year old daughter has Down syndrome, a rather more serious condition than triple-X. In my mind, what this woman did (and would have done if her baby had Down S.) is an even more unspeakable crime than killing a "normal" baby. That little girl needed her mother's love and guidance even more than usual. Instead her mother hired someone two tear her to pieces.
I believe my daughter will have more goodness and wisdom in her than this woman can ever hope to have.
That makes this all even more gross.
I agree.
And the record for writers able to make a rational, coherent, moral case for abortion still stands at 0%.
But not all are as achingly, numbingly stupid as this one.
My 7th child had a tiny, red, half-circle birthmark on each palm, because he kept his hands clenched so tightly before birth. The marks have faded now - he's 2-1/2 - but he's still a hard-charging, sock-'em-in-the-jaw kind of boy!
I'm sure you'd agree - I'd rather see them have the child than murder it.
Triplo X Syndrome results from errors during the division of reproductive cells in one of the parents."
So one of them wasn't perfect. Kill Them!!!!
Oh, how awful.
I'll be 40 this year, and we don't even consider prenatal testing. If some condition shows up on an ordinary ultrasound, we'd want to know more about it to be prepared, or to consider surgery in utero, if possible, but we'd never consider killing our babies, no matter how handicapped they might be.
Define "prime." They tell me my "prime" as a breeder was at age 27, but I've had six children in my 30's, and could have more in my 40's.
Thus, triple X syndrome most often causes no unusual physical features or medical problems. Females with the condition are usually taller than average, and their weight may be low in comparison to their height. They may have menstrual irregularities, and, although rarely exhibiting severe mental impairments, sometimes have an increased risk of learning disabilities and delayed speech and language skills.
They kill kids for that now. That's how far we've fallen. God have mercy.
I would have taken a baby like that in a heartbeat.
I guess it never occurs to these people that some people would consider such a little girl unspeakably precious.
I don't feel for her. She had already decided that if her baby wasn't perfect, she would throw it away. Her mother is prolife. I bet she would have found someone to help.
Lady - if you don't feel you can raise anything but a perfect child, you probably shouldn't have children at all. The odds are any kid at some point is going to put you through it.
If you'd had the tests, it would have shown there were no chromosomal problems. No doctor recommends abortion for suspected chromosomal abnormalities, given that it's easy to confirm one way or the other. They recommend testing, if preliminary screening shows signs of a possible chromosomal abnormality. If chromosomal testing confirms the abnormality, THEN they may recommend abortion.
Because you're rich and do triathlons??? I don't think so!
You could be perfect parents.
Because you're rich and do triathlons??? I don't think so!
Sorry, i realized that being upset had caused me to forget to refer to that to which I was referring, I tried to stop it and do it over. Obviously too late.
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