UNIT7
The Decision
Dr. Sam said to me:
“I don't know how to
say this, except to come
right out with it, Miriam.
The tests we did last week
show that there are abnormalities
with the fetus. I recommend
you consider an abortion.”
I sat, hands folded together in
my lap, numbed by his words.
The world around me disappeared
as I strove to absorb
the dreadful news Dr. Sam
was giving me. His voice
came to me as if spoken
in a tunnel, hollow and echoing.
Could this be true? The baby
inside me, the miracle created
by love, wasn't perfect!
“Your baby has a condition
known as Down's Syndrome. The problems
you will face if you don't
terminate this pregnancy could be
overwhelming, especially now that
Paul is no longer with you.”
Here I was, thirty nine
years old, pregnant for the first time,
and my doctor, my trusted friend,
was telling me I should kill
this innocent life in my womb.
I knew I had to respond
but words escaped me. Finally,
I was able to speak. “I need
some time to consider my options.
With all that has happened
in the past month and a half,
I don't want to do anything
without knowing all I can about this.”
“You don't have long, Miriam.
You are eleven weeks along
and it's dangerous to perform
an abortion after twelve weeks,
try not to prolong your decision.”
“It's too much for me to
get my head around right now.
I need to think. I promise
Ill get back to you
in a day or so.” I left
the office in a daze.
What was I going to do?
Where would I begin? Who,
besides Dr. Sam, would be able
to advise me? My parents were
on the other side of the world,
teaching in China. I felt that
if I could talk to Mom,
held in her comforting arms,
she would give me some
of her wisdom. If I could
be face-to-face with Dad, he would
give me strength. They were
all I had left in my world.
My husband, Paul, had been killed
in a traffic accident six weeks ago.
Mom and Dad had gone back to
China a week after the funeral,
when they thought I was
able to cope with my loss.
There was nowhere to turn.
I had to face reality.
This was a decision
I would make on my own.
I needed to gather all the information
I could about Down's syndrome.
I wasted no time. I went to
the library to begin my research.
The steps to the future
were in my hands.
The first medical journal I chose
explained the causes of Down's syndrome.
Normally, each egg and sperm cell
contains 23 chromosomes, and,
when they unite, 23 pairs
or 46 in total. Occasionally,
an accident occurs when the egg
or sperm cell is forming,
creating an extra chromosome number 21.
This extra chromosome results in
the features of Down's syndrome.
In the past, this disorder was
called “Mongolism” because of
the facial characteristics including
slanted eyes and a small, flattened
nasal bridge. It is a common
genetic birth defect affecting about
one in 800 to 1000 births when
the mother is 30 years of age.
The odds of my having a Down syndrome
increased to one in 100 because
I was in my fortieth year.
There is no cure for this disorder.
Neither is there any prevention.
My child would be developmentally and
physically retarded to a greater
or lesser degree. She could have
numerous health problems. It was unlikely
she would ever marry and
her having children was out
of the question. Her life expectancy
could be as little as 55 years.
Paul and I had been married
for ten years and had always
regretted the fact that I had
been unable to conceive. After
he died, I attributed my nausea, vomiting
and lethargy to my grief, never
suspecting that I might be pregnant.
Poor Paul would never know that
we would have a child together.
This thought alone was what
made me realize that I wouldn't
be able to have an abortion,
no matter what obstacles
might be ahead of us.
