You are currently browsing the daily archive for January 22, 2012.
“At the point where hope would otherwise become hopelessness, it becomes faith.”
My Ethics & Character class this week featured a guest lecturer, addressing the subject of bioethics. As part of the class, he played a video that featured brief profiles of two couples. Each couple – during their first pregnancy – had learned through routine ultrasound that their developing fetus had “abnormalities.” One couple – whose developing female child had heart defects – chose to terminate their pregnancy. The other couple – whose developing male child had severe physical deformities – allowed their pregnancy to proceed to term.
I’ve been reflecting on their stories all week. Both couples spoke of anguish. The couple that chose abortion expressed anguish over the difficulty of making their decision to abort – and continuing emotional pain even years later. The couple that gave birth to their son spoke of the gift they feel he has been to their lives – even as they admitted to the daily anguish of being witness to his suffering and caring for his special needs.
The topic of abortion has been much in the media this week, and with every story and opinion piece I’ve read, my mind has gone back to those two couples – and to a time when my husband and I also received uncertain news in the form of results from a routine ultrasound.
And as I’ve mulled this subject over, I’ve found it sadly ironic that the Canadian Medical Association Journal notes it is “Canada’s deep-rooted respect for diversity” that is leading to ethically questionable choices about “the kinds of people we want as children and the kinds of people we feel should be born.”
Sixteen years ago, I was 35, and pregnant with our third child. Shortly after our routine ultrasound at 18-weeks, my doctor delivered the news that the sonogram had revealed choroid plexus cysts on our baby’s brain. He explained the possible connection with Trisomy 18 and Down Syndrome, and said that the only way to rule out any chromosome abnormality would be through amniocentesis.
I knew there was a higher risk of miscarriage associated with amniocentesis and so declined the test. My husband and I considered the child I carried as a gift from God, and we trusted that God would enable us to parent this little one well – no matter what the challenges – when the time came.
I won’t pretend we didn’t worry. The next 14 weeks of the pregnancy were emotionally and physically challenging; in addition to our concerns over the ultrasound’s findings, I also developed gestational diabetes, which necessitated injecting insulin several times a day. But my overwhelming recollection of that time is of being sustained by the belief that if God gave us a child with special needs, it was for a reason, and He would somehow enable us to meet those needs, whatever they might turn out to be.
The 32-week ultrasound revealed the cysts had disappeared. And we rejoiced.
Our healthy baby girl was born 8 weeks later. We named her Jenna.
I’ve seen many different meanings for her name, but the one I like best is “God’s grace.”
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