The pilot had been very patient but, after an hour of the plane waiting
on the Tarmac at Heathrow, with my son Stephen refusing to get up off
the floor, sit in his seat and buckle up, our bags were removed from the
hold and he was carried off the flight , my husband Roy and I walking, hot-cheeked and humiliated, behind.
Our family holiday to Greece would not be going ahead, after all.
And no, Stephen was not an obstreperous toddler when this happened. He
was 45 years old. This embarrassing scene happened two years ago and the
episode is just one of the many challenges we have faced since Stephen,
our second child, was born with Down's Syndrome.
So difficult has it been that I can honestly say I wish he hadn't been born.
I know this will shock many: this is my son, whom I've loved, nurtured and defended for nearly half a century, but if I could go back in
time, I would abort him in an instant. I'm now 69 and Roy is 70, and
we'll celebrate our golden wedding anniversary next month.
We were childhood sweethearts and married when I was just 19 and he was
20. I sailed through my first pregnancy with Andrew a year later, and
both of us were really looking forward to a second baby to complete our family.
There were no antenatal scans or blood
test to detect abnormalities in those days and although I had a sixth
sense, call it mother's intuition, that there was something wrong with
my baby, the doctors and midwives insisted I was being hysterical and
refused to perform an amniocentesis (where cells are taken from the
amniotic fluid and tested). A healthy 22-year-old, with a thriving baby,
I was considered very low risk to have a Down's baby.
Stephen came into the world one Sunday in January 1967 at the Kent & Canterbury Hospital.
The following Wednesday, I looked at him
in his cot: his small, almond-shaped eyes, broad, flat nose and the one
crease on the palms of his hands.
Not what she planned: Gillian sailed through her first pregnancy with
Andrew, left, and was looking forward to a second baby completing their
family. She didn't know Stephen had Down's when she was pregnant
Delayed milestones: Stephen didn't walk until he was five
'He's a mongol, isn't he?' I gasped to
my mother. It sounds shocking now but that was how we used to describe
people with Down's Syndrome in those days.
She told me she was sure he wasn't, and
it seemed everyone else was blind to what I saw so clearly. None of the
doctors and health visitors even mentioned it, so for seven months I
blundered on, trying to convince myself that my baby was 'normal'.
However, when Stephen became ill that
summer and I took him to hospital, I overheard a paediatrician refer to
him as a 'mongol baby'. I had been right all along.
In that instant, my world came crashing down around me.
I'd never had psychological problems before, but I believe that parenting a mentally disabled child could push anyone to the edge
Questions I couldn't answer raced
through my mind: Had I caused his disability? How terrible would his
life be? What impact would it have on his brother Andrew, then only two?
How on earth would Roy and I cope?
That was the day normal life ended for Roy, Andrew and me.
Perhaps you'd expect me to say that,
over time, I grew to accept my son's disability. That now, looking back
on that day 47 years later, none of us could imagine life without him,
and that I'm grateful I was never given the option to abort.
However, you'd be wrong. Because, while I
do love my son, and am fiercely protective of him, I know our lives
would have been happier and far less complicated if he had never been
born. I do wish I'd had an abortion. I wish it every day.
If he had not been born, I'd have
probably gone on to have another baby, we would have had a normal family
life and Andrew would have the comfort, rather than the responsibility,
of a sibling, after we're gone.
Stressed: Gillian believes the family would have been happier if she had aborted Stephen and gone on to have another baby
Gillian and Roy's marriage has lasted: But they've had a difficult time raising a mentally disabled child
Instead, Stephen - who struggles to speak and function in the modern
world - has brought a great deal of stress and heartache into our lives.
That is why I want to speak in support of the 92 per cent of women who
choose to abort their babies after discovering they have Down's
Syndrome. Mothers like Suzanne Treussard who bravely told her story in
the Daily Mail two weeks ago.
Suzanne, who was offered a termination at 15 weeks, braved a backlash of criticism and vitriol from some readers.
But I'd challenge any one of them to walk a mile in the shoes of mothers
like me, saddled for life as I am, with a needy, difficult,
exasperating child who will never grow up, before they judge us.
They should experience how it feels to parent a grown man, who is no
more able to care for himself than a toddler - and at a time of life
when your children should, all things being equal, be taking care of
you.
They should know how it feels to live every single day under a crushing weight of guilt.
They should know how it feels to watch Stephen's constant suffering and
witness the almost daily destruction wreaked on all our lives.
Roy, like a lot of men of his generation, is not terribly good at
showing his emotions, and never says much about Stephen's condition.
He loves his son, but knows he cannot be 'fixed', so chooses not to
waste time contemplating the 'what-ifs'. For my own part, however, I
don't think I will ever come to terms with Stephen's disability.
In his early years, it caused me physical pain seeing friends' toddlers
reaching milestones when my son was still so baby-like. Stephen didn't
walk until he was five and couldn't speak - even now he has only a few
words and communicates using Makaton, a form of sign language. This made
working out his needs a constant struggle.
His incontinence meant that washing his clothes and bedding became my full-time job.
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