The Miracle we Almost Missed

Like the putrid smell from a stagnant bog; a blackened piece of meat being feasted upon by maggots in a darkened corner. Like the discovery of a colony of cockroaches feeding on the dead of their own, or seeing the remains of a dog that was halved by a careless wheel; seeing her pregnant turned my stomach.

Jumping into my mind with so much noise I was afraid it was tattooed in my eyes, the first thought was how the hell were we going to rid of it? The thoughts that followed would, months later, serve to make me question my character. Like a neat line, as if at the back of my mind they had been squatting, waiting their turn the thoughts marched through my mind;

·         Was it too later for an abortion?

·         Who would raise the child? Surely not me!

·         What would people THINK?

·         How could we have been so stupid?

·         Was it too late for an abortion?

Crowding my mind; clouding my judgment and rendering me irrational and dangerous I began my inquisition. How could she, someone with near-acute Down’s syndrome, have got pregnant? With already a predilection for lying, I knew I would never find out the truth. Uppermost in my mind was getting a termination of pregnancy; I was ready to even go to the courts to declare her unfit to parent. It was enough that she was a dependent, she would not subject us to taking care of a child whose chances of having Down’s syndrome were high that a whore on crack. I set about with my plans, regardless of the fact that years earlier I had found a letter, scrawled in her childish writing, she had written to a man, asking him for a baby. What she wanted was immaterial to me.

Until her protector and guardian stopped me in my murderous tracks.

Whatever shame the family would face, the protector said, she would bear the brunt of it. It had been her who had been taking care of my Down’s Syndrome-afflicted cousin. It had been her who had let slide the stringent contraceptive regime I had had my cousin on. She would shoulder the responsibility of the humiliation and take care of the coming baby, “mongoloid” or not. I stayed angry until my cousin gave birth to her baby daughter, convinced she would present us all with a child so deformed we would have to make some hard decisions.

Today she toddles like any perfect angel; a childrso beautiful I suspect God was taking the piss at me. She gurgles, she laughs and she is a joy to everyone in the family. I was the first to take photos of her, when she was only a few hours old. I fell in love with that little angel moments after meeting her. I was wrong, and I have never been so glad to be.

Women choose abortions for flimsier reasons than what I believed. I was afraid that a woman who cannot take care of herself (at 34) would be a danger to a child, I was afraid that I would have to step up to the plate and I knew I didn’t want to. The universe further slapped me in the face when my cousin turned out to be the best mother I have ever seen. Her daughter loves her mother so much, it is amazing to watch.

I am not anti-abortion, I am completely pro-choice. But as I watch women who are my friends continue to choose to terminate pregnancies, I am reminded of my little second-cousin, (so perfect it was like she had a point to prove), I wonder, how many world changers were consigned to the abortionists bin?