Recently I encountered a heavily pregnant mother of 2 young children. We were both waiting for our hubbies and children to finish their rides at Universal Studios. Amos was waiting with me, babbling away in his stroller, and when the mother saw him we struck up a conversation.
I’ve had several of such encounters with strangers who are curious about Amos. These are good moments of connection with people who are open and easy about knowing the special needs community. And I too have learnt to be forthcoming. Being reticent about it doesn’t do Amos any good.
So in the course of it I had the opportunity to give my views on special needs children. Then inevitably, the pregnant mummy said, “Did you know that your child will have Down Syndrome when you were pregnant?”
I get this question all the time.
Sometimes it sours my heart. It seems that society is wired to think along the same lines - that killing an unborn child becomes an option just because we possess the power to do so.
Seriously, would it have made a difference if I had known?
I often leave such conversations heavy-hearted, wondering if that question had intended to mean what I thought it would. I’ve also had relatives asking me why I had decided to give birth to Amos despite knowing that he might have “problems.”
It deeply saddens me that Amos, along with hundreds of sweet little children with Down Syndrome, are perceived to be dispensable in the eyes of society.
A blood test just after my first trimester revealed that Amos had a high chance of having Down Syndrome. My gynae called me down to his clinic to break the news.
Why us?
Will we have the means to raise this child?
How will he survive in this world?
The questions came endlessly, threatening to cloud my mind and throwing it into a state of depression. But in the midst of the worrisome noise I felt a loving assurance – a voice in my heart reminding me that Amos, even at 4 months’ gestation, was the tiniest and cutest foetus swimming about in his private pool, utterly vulnerable and completely oblivious to everything that could’ve been brought against him.
And that voice reminded me that Amos was and shall always be in God’s loving hands.
I couldn’t bear the thought of doing the least bit of harm to him.
Then we fought. We fought to preserve Amos’ right to live, to exist. Every so often doubts stole in like thieves in the night and we had to fight them and convince our worried and sceptical parents that we were making the right decision. We still are.
Today, we're glad we stuck through with our decision. Amos’ bubbly personality is a testament of God’s grace in our family and we have learnt so much from him. He made us remember that God chooses the foolish and weak things of the world to shame the wise and strong. Amos may be dispensable in the world’s eyes but to us, he’s our boy and we love him with all our heart.
We still worry from time to time over the unknown future but we aren’t lost. By faith, we know that God has a plan for him. And by faith we just have to surrender to God’s time and pace.
And so we walk on, one tiny step at a time.
Precious Lord, take my hand, Lead me on, let me stand, I am tired, I am weak, I am worn; Through the storm, through the night, Lead me on to the light,
Take my hand, precious Lord, Lead me home.
(Rev Thomas Dorsey, 1932)
"My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness." 2 Cor 12:9