So it happened. Someone, a mere aquaintance, was apparently speculating at why I didn't have an abortion when I found out Yusef had Down syndrome. The wife of one of my husband's friends, a doctor of course, and supposedly a person of faith and a Muslim (not that that really matters).
Even though this was relayed by my husband from his friend and was a casual conversation that occured in passing, it hurts. It angers me. It's heresay, since I didn't actually hear it out of her mouth, but still I know in my heart of hearts that those words were said.
I'll never understand the mentality that my child, a child with Down syndrome, who is perfect and sweet and funny and bright, would be better off dead.
He's not a mere thought in the memory of my womb, an enigma. He's real. His heart beats and my own hearts burns with a fierce love for this little boy.
I love every inch of him. His big brown teddy bear eyes and his pink tongue that peeks out between his little heart shaped mouth; his thick wavy brown hair that always seems to be in a perpetual state of "bed head"; his pudgy little arms and fat fingers that love to grab my glasses and hair and earrings. I love his little shy smile that appears at the sight of my face or the sound of my voice.
More than anything I love him and I love that he's here with me to share this time that is my life. Alhumdullilahi rabil alamin.
That is why. That is why I gave him life.