The Kevin Chronicles: I Had An Abortion

Did you know you can email anonymously? Me neither, but apparently you can. Last week I got an email from several semicolons, one percent sign and a period that read, “I got pregnant unexpectedly when I was 41. The amniocentesis said the baby had Down syndrome so I had an abortion.”

That’s it. That was the whole message. Not, “I had an abortion, do you think I’ll roast in hell for all eternity?” Not, “Did I make the right decision?” Nothing, so here goes.

Dear Several semicolons, one percent sign and a period,

I don’t know why you wrote to me but I have to assume it’s because you read this blog and want to hear my thoughts on the choice you made. Because you didn’t ask me anything I don’t know if you’re searching for forgiveness or condemnation, but either way, you probably wrote to the wrong girl.

I would LOVE to tell you that if I’d known Kevin was going to be born disabled I still would not have had an abortion, but I can’t. And let me be clear about this: Anyone who tells you they know what decision they would make in the face of a decision they’ve never had to make is lying to you and themselves. Don’t listen to them. None of us, not one of us can say how we would behave in a situation we’ve never been in. For example, up until a couple of days ago Kevin was going through a phase where he decided the whole “wipe yourself with toilet paper” thing was completely over rated. After all, it is far more convenient to wipe your butt with your hands then smear poop on the walls and curtains. And this is the part where you as the reader asks, “Why do you think he’s doing that?” and I have no answer, because Kevin’s disability hinders his impulse control and prevents him from expressing feelings.

Me: Kevin why are you eating playdoh?

Me: Kevin why did you paint the dog with lipstick

Me: Kevin why are you washing your socks in the toilet

Kevin goes through strange phases all the time. For a month last summer he would only pee outside on this one particular rose bush in my back yard, even if it was raining. How the thing is still alive I have no idea. Last month he wouldn’t go to sleep unless I laid down next to him and sang Jingle Bells three times and sometimes he won’t go to school before he has lined up all 58 of his matchbox cars in perfect, symmetrical order across my kitchen floor. I’ve given up asking why, I just deal.

Anyway, back to the poop. Please don’t tell him I said this but my husband is a much better parent than me. Where I get emotional and unreasonable in the face of Kevin’s bizarre behavior, Chris assesses every new situation with a clear head and always knows the best approach. On Wednesday when I found my bathroom covered in poop I lost my, no pun intended, shit.

Me: Kevin!!!! What is this Kevin??!!!

Me: No you’re not sorry. This is the fourth time this week I’ve had enough do you understand??!!

Me: You know how to wipe yourself Kevin. If you need help you can call for me but you are not doing this ever again!!!!!

Chris: He’s never going to stop Rae because you keep cleaning up after him. Make him clean it, he’ll realize how disgusting it is, and THEN he’ll stop.

Bastard. But he was right. I made Kevin clean up every bit of it, he threw up in the process, and I made him clean that too. And then, because I’m insane, I posted about it on Facebook. Most people either liked the post or commented with something like, “Rock On!” but a lady at work actually stopped me the next day to say, “I can’t believe you made him clean up his vomit.” “Well,” I said, “Desperate times call for desperate measures.” And then she responded with the phrase I’ve heard over and over again since I started communicating honestly about Kevin’s behavior, “I could never do that.” Now I don’t know what she was actually saying when she uttered those words but I can tell you what I heard when she said them: “If I was in your situation I would be handling it better than you.” That’s right Several Semicolons One Percent Sign and A Period, there are people out there who think they know what they would do if their nine year old spread poop on the walls and even more who think they know exactly what they would do if they found out they were carrying a baby with Down syndrome. They would have the baby, because abortion is wrong and it’s a sin, and they would never do that.

As you now know, my least favorite saying on Earth is, everything happens for a reason but the silver medal goes to any sentence that begins with I would never. Any words that come after those words are guaranteed to be self-righteous drivel because only people who think they know everything say them. I would neeeeever get a divorce, no matter the depths of my pain because I love my children too much and no one should be brought up in a broken home. I would neeeever hit my child no matter what they did; abuse is not the answer. I’m actually laughing at myself right now because when Dana was 5 (and particularly mouthy) I always kept her hair in a pony tail so when she got smart I could grab it real quick and crack her on her ass. It was a fairly impressive move if I do say so myself.

Anyhoo, the bronze medal goes to God doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle. Seriously? What the fuck does that even mean? Are we under the impression that God hands certain people a mountain of anguish and disappointment because they can handle it? In what universe does that make any sense? If you believe that statement Several Semicolons One Percent Sign and A Period I suppose you’re damned for what you did because after all, you could have handled it, otherwise God wouldn’t have given it to you.

I am acquainted with many women whose children have Down syndrome. One is my buddy Maria from speech therapy and her daughter Penny is awesome. If it weren’t for her dysmorphic features you’d never know Penny had a disability. At 13 years old she is full mainstreamed, an excellent piano player and a cheerleader. She has tons of friends and a date to the 7^th grade dance next Saturday. For obvious reasons, Maria and I have agreed to disagree regarding the whole “Gift of a Special Needs Child” thing because Penny is the light of her life.

Your baby could have turned out like Penny. You could have been Maria.

Now I’ll tell you about another woman I’ll call Deanne, because it means survival, whose son has Down Syndrome. Because he cannot speak, and will stare at you for hours with the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen, I will call him Tantun, because it means quiet river. When he was 6 months old Tantun suffered a seizure that resulted in significant brain damage. Dad decided he “couldn’t handle it” anymore and left Deanne for another woman with whom he had 3 “normal” boys. Before I got kicked out of CHOP, Deanne and I shared a great deal but one conversation still haunts me to this day.

Deanna: What’s so funny?

Me: I was just about to say the most stupid thing.

Deanne: Well now you have to tell me.

Me: It’s almost insulting I hate myself for even thinking it.

Deanne gives me a stern gaze.

Me: All right fine I was going to say, “I don’t know how you do it.”

Deanne: Well I don’t have a choice in the matter do I?

Me: I guess not. Are you ever scared? I feel like all I ever am anymore is scared.

Deanne: I’m not scared but I do get sad sometimes.

Deanne: It’s not a happy life, you know? I try to be happy, I try to smile, but it’s so lonely.

Your baby could have turned out like Tantun. You could have been Deanne.

Several Semicolons One Percent Sign and A Period, I can’t tell you what you did was wrong any more than I can tell you it was right. You made a choice. Accept it and please don’t dwell, life is too short. Just as I had to learn to stop asking why, you must learn to stop asking what if.

I will tell you this. I wanted two children because that’s how many I knew I could “handle.” God gave me three and one of them is disabled. It’s been a very hard road and I don’t want any more children. I don’t want any more “normal” children. Because Kevin’s disability is the result of a chromosomal abnormality there is no guarantee that a fourth child wouldn’t be born with the exact same condition. Now my tubes are tied so I’m pretty safe, but accidents happen. And if I were to become pregnant, I’m pretty sure I know exactly what choice I’d make.