My baby. I’m sorry. After 17 weeks of pregnancy, I’m writing to you for the first time, and it’s not even to tell you how much your presence inside me fills me with joy.
The truth is, a few days ago, my morning was a dark one. I got a phone call that no mother ever wants to receive: my doctor called to tell me there’s a chance you might have Down syndrome… one in 240, to be exact. I’ll have an ultrasound on March 21 to see if we can detect any physical abnormalities, and then we’ll decide if I need an amniocentesis, a blood test, or something else. I’ll admit that this isn’t at all how I imagined this pregnancy would be… At this stage, I should be excited to find out your sex soon, but right now, it’s the number of chromosomes you have that interests me. Or rather, that worries me.
Rationally, I know these are just numbers, and I could tell myself that there’s a 239-in-240 chance you’re “normal.” At 1 in 300, doctors don’t call their patients. But that one tiny chance—that little 1—that probability that you might not be like everyone else—it terrifies me.
My heart is broken because I’m your mom, and I don’t want the child who’s different—the one everyone stares at with amusement, suspicion, or pity—to be mine. I don’t want people to look at you for any reason other than to think how cute you are. I don’t want everything to be a challenge for you. I don’t want your innocence to be the target of other children’s cruelty.
On top of that, I’ll be honest with you—I feel guilty because the fact that you might have Down syndrome makes me think you wouldn’t be perfect. Who am I to say that? You’d be perfect in your own way… but I’m so overwhelmed right now that I can’t put into clear words what you’d be like.
And then I feel bad because I’ve already dared to think about what comes next, even before we have official results. I’ve asked myself the agonizing question: what are we going to do if the diagnosis comes back positive? I so don’t want to bear the burden of making a decision about your future… I’ve felt you move; I already love you with all my heart. I can’t imagine terminating my pregnancy, knowing that you could very well live. It’s terrible to have to decide your fate like this!
But if we were to raise a child with Down syndrome, I wondered if Dad and I would be able to handle it. And then there’s your big brother, too. I know you’d bring us happiness—lots of it. Everyone I’ve met seemed to be overflowing with joy, it seems to me. You’d make us see life differently, that’s for sure, but there would certainly be days when it would be very difficult. It all depends on the degree of disability and the developmental delays that come with this genetic condition… And we can’t know that in advance.
And I’m sorry again, because before that 1/240 result, there was that video going around that I was happy to share. It showed young people with Down syndrome reassuring expectant parents who’d received a positive Down syndrome diagnosis. It suggested that you could be independent, that you could work, have your own apartment, and still say “I love you” to me. It’s so easy to find that beautiful when it’s someone else’s story. But what if ours isn’t so rosy?
I actually watched that video again a few days ago. And another one, then another. And an awareness poster and lots of other posts. I thought the stars were strangely aligned… And then I realized… March 21 is World Down Syndrome Day. Is that a sign? It’s Dad’s birthday. It’s the day we’ll find out the results of your genetic testing. It’s going to be a big day for us.
I’m going to try to push all these thoughts out of my mind until we know where we stand.
Know this, my baby: I love you, no matter what happens and no matter what the future holds…
* I started writing this almost a year ago. I had a really hard time finding the right words, and I’m still not sure if I used the right ones. I hope I don’t offend anyone.
My baby is now almost 7 months old, and as it turns out, he has the right number of chromosomes.
I salute all the moms who’ve had to make a decision about their child with Down syndrome. No matter which path you chose, I know it took a lot of courage, and I tip my hat to you. <3