Years ago, a friend of mine told me that her son had found out that he was going to have a child with Down Syndrome. She wanted to talk with me, to prepare. She had already named the child. She was open and accepting. I was excited for her and her new grandson. She wanted to know what it was like. What could she do?

Then she mentioned that her son and daughter-in-law were not sure if they were going to keep the baby. They were weighing their options. They hadn’t made the choice.

I couldn’t give them William. I couldn’t share the challenges and the joys of raising him. I couldn’t share my wisdom. I couldn’t sway them one way or the other. I could only share my friend’s  joy at the prospect of having a grandson who also had an extra chromosome. It was because she knew William that she was with me at that moment.

I told her I believed in choice. Yes, there is a GIANT but in there. I didn’t know that William had Down Syndrome when he was in utero. I am grateful that I didn’t because honestly, I do not know what I would have done in my ignorance.

I did have amniocentesis with my second child. I had amniocentesis with my third child -Sam- he miscarried as a result. That was a loss that was hard to bear because I had made the wrong choice. When I was pregnant with my last child, I did not take the test.

I didn’t hear from my friend for a long time. When I ran into her at the recycling center, I already knew the answer to my question, but I asked it anyway to make it real. And when she confirmed the choice that her son and her daughter-in-law made, I didn’t begrudge them of their decision, that’s not my place. People have the right to make that choice.

It was the loss – the profound loss of something so beyond my reach that I still cannot let it go.