Dear Certain Someone- There Are Some Things I want You To Know

Dear Certain Someone,

You are an unavoidable part of my son’s life, so there are one or two things I would like you to know (if only you had internet access and an inclination to read, but sadly you have neither).

The first thing I want you to know is I have noticed that you are palpably uncomfortable around my son, and more importantly, so has he. That’s why he is reluctant to spend time with you: not because he is rude, or doesn’t like you, or because I have turned him against you, but because you are just so awkward around him. You don’t know how to talk to him and have never ceased to be puzzled that we talk to him just like we do to our other kids.

The second thing I want you to know is that my son is fully human.

Every single strand of DNA in his body carries the unique genetic code for Homo Sapiens. The fact that he has a little extra genetic material in each of his cells does not in any way diminish his humanity. Rather, perhaps, it enhances it – he is generally gentle, kind and sympathetic in his attitude to others, and he hates conflict.

He is not ‘a Down’s’, and I don’t want to hear you refer to him like that again. He is not a separate breed or species of human. He is a boy who happens to have Down’s syndrome.

Which brings us to the next thing I would like you to know – he won’t be a boy for much longer. He is almost an adult. So please don’t demand to know why we have taken him out to see a film in the evening ‘when children should be in bed’, because he isn’t a child. And please don’t purse your lips up if we tell you that we’ll soon be taking him to the pub, because he is almost old enough to legally buy alcohol (though I doubt if he’ll enjoy the taste).

And finally, I want you to know that the only person who is qualified to judge whether a particular life is worth living is the person who is actually living that life.

So, the next time you want to pontificate to other members of my family about how I (and other women like myself) should have been ‘made to have an abortion’ because ‘disabled children have such terrible quality of life’ you might want to consider what the phrase ‘quality of life’ actually means and how it can be quantified.

My son enjoys life. He even enjoys school. He has friends, a social life and interests. He enjoys the company of others but also enjoys spending time alone with his books or listening to the radio. He enjoys good food. He lives at the heart of a loving family. He sees nothing wrong with the way he is and does not compare himself to others. In short, my son gives every indication of being contented with his life and with himself. How does this compare to your quality of life? Can you honestly say the same thing about yourself?