I'm a man, so I'm not supposed to have an opinion about abortion. Instead, let me tell you about the wonderful morning I had yesterday, taking my 2-year-old daughter Dot to speech therapy and physical therapy. Her major interest right now is reciting the colors (which she does in English and American Sign Language, yet) and reciting the names of her boyfriends in her early start toddler class ("Edgerrrrr! Androooo!") and informing me they wear "backpacks." She waved at everyone she saw that day with a cheery "Hello!" and smiled a gap-tooth smile under her mop of red hair. They smiled and waved back. What a cutie!
Oh, sorry — she has Down Syndrome. Reboot. Let me try again:
Bringing her to term was obviously a big mistake! What a tragedy SHE is! How inconvenient for everyone involved! We can't possibly get her into advanced placement classes, or an Ivy League college! What'll we say to our neighbors? Better off just to make the "hard decision" to get rid of her. Ignore my first paragraph. Just forget I said anything ...
I'm really having a hard time coming up with words to describe my incredible anger. Pro-deathers like to describe abortion as "a hard decision," but the fact is, it's the lazy-ass way out. Particularly in this case. Let's face it; the women who will abort a DS child aren't scared teenagers who dare not give birth. They want children, just not this child.
So these lovely, sweet human beings are squashed like spiders because they're just too much trouble to keep. Hard decision, my big hairy butt!
I'm going to have trouble not throwing up for the rest of the day.
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