Embracing Life: Lessons from Isaac By Isabella Yosuico Introduction The sonogram tech’s face fell. “I’ll just get the doctor,” she said in an artificial tone that didn’t fit her somber expression. She quickly left the room—a little too fast. I knew right away that something was wrong. What did she see in that blurry picture on the monitor? To me, the amorphous yet recognizable image of a baby looked perfect. I already loved him. It was my first, 12-week prenatal check-up. My husband Ray wasn’t with me because he was busy at work and we fully expected it to be a routine exam. But when the doctor finally came in, I knew it wasn’t routine at all. She gravely scrutinized the sonogram screen for only a few moments before she asked me to come to her office, voice serious and businesslike. Suddenly, the room seemed smaller, quieter and less safe, yet I felt a strange sense of calm. “Your sonogram shows several markers for a genetic defect,” she reported. She went on to explain the alarming possibilities: Trisomy 21, Down Syndrome, or Trisomy 13, sometimes fatal—or just maybe, she hesitated, no problem at all. The obstetrician quickly covered the options: further genetic testing, abortion. Her detached, professional tone was oddly comforting, insulating me from my own surging feelings. Terminating was not a choice for us, and given our convictions, we declined genetic testing to confirm a diagnosis. It wouldn’t make a difference. But the next six months were hard, especially for me, convinced our baby boy indeed had Down Syndrome. Ray was less concerned, skeptical of the doctor’s suspicions and as a deeply faithful man, peacefully trusting God with any possible outcome. In me, the prospect churned up conflicting emotions: Panic, a growing sense of dread, and moments of the supernatural peace that comes with unaccountable certainty and acceptance. One night, awakened by my fears, I talked to God about it, crying out with the sincerity that springs from desperation, recalling Christ’s own words, “Please let this cup pass, but if it’s your will, Lord, help me to accept it.” Truth was, my heart knew, and I believed that God had prepared even from childhood to welcome this baby. Despite a family that prized intellect and achievement above everything, I’d always had an inexplicable sensitivity to the developmentally disabled, uncharacteristically confrontational if someone used the word “retarded” offensively. In those months of waiting, I had unexpected, comforting encounters with people with Down Syndrome—a friendly grocery clerk, a happy family at the park, heartwarming segments on the evening news, endearing YouTube clips that somehow made their way to me, unbidden. All seemed guided by an unknown loving hand to reassure me. Even so, I was afraid, confused and even angry. Afraid for my unborn child and what he might face in life: Would he suffer physically? Would he be ridiculed and rejected at every turn? Afraid for my older son Pierce: Would he be overshadowed or saddled with a lifelong burden? Afraid for our family: What would this baby do to our hard-earned and near-perfect harmony? Admittedly, I was maybe most afraid for myself. I didn’t see myself as the mom of a disabled child. Who would I be? Embracing Life –©Isabella Yosuico 2013 1