Read Online The Upside of Down by Susan Biggar - Free Book Online Page A

‘But then I look at Aidan and he is fine and, you know, normal, and I think—“Well, maybe” …’
    â€˜I don’t know what to think,’ he replies in a quiet voice.
    Of all the things we have stressed about this past year, we haven’t quite gotten around to this one. What would we do in the event of another pregnancy? The short answer, and probably the reason we haven’t talked about it much, is that we don’t know what to do. Sifting and re-sifting through the pros and cons of the issue, we search for enlightenment and clarity. There’s an almost daily see-sawing back and forth between us about the ethics of terminating a pregnancy for this reason. Both of us have a Christian faith. We view life as a gift to be treasured and cherished, lived to its fullest, respected. Though the question of when that life begins is less clear in our minds.
    Somewhat surprisingly, I haven’t thought much about abortion. Maybe, more honestly, I have thought about it but decided it was too hard. All the nastiness I have heard over the years—the easy political sound bites and the angry messages from pulpits—feel far removed from our personal dilemma. I can see why I have sidestepped this in the past, believing it would never affect my own life, letting others fight it out. Abortion? No, that would never be ‘my’ issue.
    ***
    The risks associated with a CVS are low enough (a slight chance of miscarriage), and the agony of waiting nine months sufficiently dire, that we decide to go ahead with the CVS. It’s one of those Big Needle tests, where some fragments of the placenta are sucked out of the womb like tiny strands of spaghetti. Not terribly pleasant. The medical euphemism is: ‘some people find the procedure uncomfortable’, a comment which really makes you wonder about the rest of the people.
    After waiting out our eleven-week eternity, things go badly with the test. For some inexplicable reason the doctor, who looks by all appearances to be a doctor, is unable to get the goods. After nearly an hour fishing around in my abdomen for the spaghetti, he packs away his needles and asks us to come back again in a week for Round Two.
    Fine. We had nothing better to do this week than chew off our fingernails.
    Thankfully, Round Two passes without a hitch. And now we steady ourselves for the serious waiting. If the first eleven weeks was like watching grass grow, the five-day wait for results is more like waiting for Rome to be built. Time comes to an abrupt standstill. Minutes stretch, resembling entire days and each day is a month.
    By the time the fifth day rolls around I’m surprisingly chipper, despite the tension humming away just below the surface. Aidan and I go grocery shopping and I buy salmon for dinner, a significant treat on our current budget, to celebrate what I confidently believe will be good news. I’m in our bedroom when the phone rings at five o’clock that afternoon. It’s the doctor who performed the CVS. I sit down on the edge of the bed. His first question startles me.
    â€˜Are you home alone?’
    â€˜Yes. Um, no, Aidan’s here too. Why?’
    â€˜Will your husband be home soon?’
    â€˜Yes …’
    â€˜Okay then, so I’m just calling to let you know the results of your CVS.’
    â€˜Yes …’
    â€˜So … uh … it turns out the foetus is affected by the condition.’
    I am briefly struck by his choice of words—‘condition’. Maybe it’s some other condition he’s talking about, some other baby, some other life. I can think of nothing, literally nothing, to say during our conversation, not even a single question. Brick walls are emerging around me, leaving nowhere to turn. He talks briefly about options and, I think, says he’ll call us in a few days to check in.
    I hang up the phone but then don’t know what to do. I can’t face Aidan yet. What