the down syndrome abortion debate

Some days I simply pause, completely perplexed at what current culture feels a need to next debate. Intelligent people on all sides of the aisle or all sides of something wrangle about all sorts of issues, each seemingly, boldly declaring that they represent the moral authority in the land. I see a world which is morally confused. And our intelligence has gotten in the way.

As referenced here last fall, for example, in Iceland, doctors are now required to tell expectant mothers about an available screening test that can indicate the presence of Down syndrome in their baby. CBS originally ran this story under the headline “Inside the Country Where Down Syndrome Is Disappearing,” omitting the reality that only live birth stats were decreasing due to abortion — not because fewer babies had the genetic disorder. Close to 100% of unborn babies diagnosed with Down syndrome in Iceland are now aborted.

An entire people group is being eradicated because of who they are and how they are born.

With the Icelandic development combined with already high American abortion rates when a baby is identified as having a third copy of chromosome 21, there has been a push in recent years for state legislatures to enact law which prohibits abortion based strictly on a Downs diagnosis. Indiana, Louisiana, North Dakota, and Ohio have already passed such legislation, with Utah’s legislature currently debating such a bill.

And hence, we debate. We debate what’s right. We debate who is right. And yes, sometimes intelligence seems to get in the way.

A week ago, longtime, well-known Washington Post journalist, Ruth Marcus, addressed the issue. Marcus is a woman the Intramuralist has long read and respected, as she is articulate, witty, and bright. She identifies as liberal with the Democratic Party (… and friends, for a more balanced perspective, please be reading people from both or multiple parties…).

While I respect Marcus’s support of abortion law, it was the following expression that made this parent pause:

“… I respect — I admire — families that knowingly welcome a baby with Down syndrome into their lives. Certainly, to be a parent is to take the risks that accompany parenting; you love your child for who she is, not what you want her to be.

But accepting that essential truth is different from compelling a woman to give birth to a child whose intellectual capacity will be impaired, whose life choices will be limited, whose health may be compromised. Most children with Down syndrome have mild to moderate cognitive impairment, meaning an IQ between 55 and 70 (mild) or between 35 and 55 (moderate). This means limited capacity for independent living and financial security; Down syndrome is life-altering for the entire family.

I’m going to be blunt here: That was not the child I wanted…”

As a person who made the choice not to abort my child with Downs, I appreciate Marcus’s admiration and respect. Now let me be blunt in response.

My child with Downs, Joshua, was not the child I wanted either.

I didn’t want a son whose intellectual capacity was impaired, whose life choices would be different than mine, nor one who had to deal with a life-threatening heart defect. I didn’t want that. For him or for me. In fact — let’s get real here — I actually prayed that Josh would not have Down syndrome.

But thank God sometimes His answer is different than we ask. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. I didn’t know how much this young man — who yes, is different than me — would teach me. I didn’t know how much I could learn from one whose IQ is significantly lower than mine. I didn’t know how impactful it would be to do life and raise a child with a disability. I didn’t know how much it would change me — and yes, how much I would grow from being changed. I had zero clue how vibrant the life and amazing the impact a person absent of high intellect could be.

The reality is that Josh is thriving. The reality also is that if I was not given the responsibility to parent young master Josh, I would know no more of life and God than I already do.

Thank God He did not answer my prayer the way I asked. Had Josh been any different, I would not be different. I would have grown less.

Instead, I’ve grown to be humbler, wiser, and far more empathetic and compassionate for others — for who they are and how they are born… all because of that one very special Joshua… that one extra chromosome… and a God who knew better than me.

Respectfully… always…
AR

the petraeus’s & sandusky’s

I had a tough evening with my youngest son the other night.  He’s 11.  He disobeyed.  And the reality is that he disobeyed disrespectfully and defiantly.  He announced that he would not do what he was asked — and he would not do what he knew was right.

 

“I don’t care!  You can’t make me!!”

 

And since I’ve been slightly maturing in my parenting (thank God!), I employed what has arguably evolved into one of my more effective techniques.  With disappointment in my eyes and thus no affirming glance, I closed the door and quietly walked away.

 

My son began to sob.

 

Actually, he sobbed for quite some time that night.  Those tears were hard to hear, always seemingly piercing my own heart and soul.  Yet I knew at least for an initial while, I needed to allow his tears to flow.

 

Why was he crying?

Because I walked away?  Because I was disappointed?  Because of no affirming glance?

 

While each of the above certainly had both impact and merit, none served as the cause of the cry.  My 11 year old bawled because he chose wrongly.

 

Josh was so grieved by his defiant-but-intentional choice of wrongful behavior, that he grieved his own iniquity.

 

“Why?!  Why did I do this?” he cried uncontrollably.  I kid you not; it was uncontrollably for quite some time.  Josh was bothered by his lack of virtue; he was dismayed by his willful wrongdoing.

 

After allowing the tears to flow for several minutes, I re-entered his room and held him tight.  At first I said very little, as the tears continued, but so did the outwardly, now cavernous contrition.  He was unnerved by the obvious fact that his wrongful choice came so intentionally and easily.  Part of me of wondered if he was shocked that he was actually capable.

 

As I finally tucked him that night, watching my budding adolescent fall asleep with swollen eyes and still with tears, I sat and wondered what I could learn… what each of us could learn…  When we make wrongful choices — so intentionally and easily — are we shocked that we, too, are actually capable?  Do we wrestle with our own wrongdoing?  Are we bothered by our own, manifest lack of virtue?  And are we dismayed?

 

Too often I think we miss that — we miss the growth that comes from individual, reflective wrestling because we instead surround ourselves with people who simply “amen” our experience and thus numb our negatives — as opposed to hold us accountable for both the wise and poor choices of our lives.  We are quick to shame the Petraeus’s and Sandusky’s, but far slower in examining any wrongful actions, motives, or thinking that takes root in our own hearts.

 

We live for the moment, allow emotion to trump truth, and often allow moral behavior to be relative with each evolving circumstance.  The challenge is that circumstances will always change; such is a perilous pattern.

 

As is no secret amidst these pages, my young son has Down syndrome.  Please — no sympathy necessary.  Josh has taught me more in life than I ever could have known without him.  He has taught me and stretched me in ways previously impossible.  There is nothing lesser about his life; there is only more blessing in mine and in so many others’ lives because of the joy and wisdom he so freely brings.

 

One of Josh’s many marvelous traits is that he doesn’t allow all the “crud of life” to get in the way — circumstances and emotions never interfere nor trump reality.  And the other night, when it was obvious he had made a wrongful choice, there were no excuses or exaggerations.  There was only the honest grief that he failed to choose wisely.

 

We continue to learn, as it is often the child that leads the adult well.

 

Respectfully,

AR