Down’s syndrome day
My tired husband and I crawl into bed and realise that fairies must have dumped their treasure chest of sequins on our sheets during the day. We laugh as we unstick them from our legs.
In a room across the hall we hear two little voices talking partly to each other and partly to themselves. The conversation filled with so many run on sentences and gibberish that it begins to sound like they are talking in tongues.
No matter how tidy our house gets, the evidence that two happy little girls live here is ever present. Glitter glue drawings, finger paints stuck to the carpet, hieroglyphic Crayola on the walls—all made by two loving sisters.
One of them happens to have Down’s syndrome. And that really is an after-thought.
I am not as politically pro-life as I once thought I was. I can’t get into the mind and…
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