I confessed to my doctor today that I’d been feeling nervous and on edge.  During my first pregnancy, I was the picture of calm.  Or at least, my flailing was more of the “how the hell am I going to manage all of this and a baby” variety.

The maiden voyage to Storkville was all about me.  Trip number two?  I’m obsessed with the Stranger Within.

My doctor gently reminded me that it wasn’t too late for genetic testing - but if I skipped the blood work this time, we’d have missed our window.

I took a deep breath and confirmed that no, we still weren’t interested.

Yeah, I know.  If nothing is wrong, then the tests will tell me that, right?

Kind of.  Let’s face it - the tests clear your child for a range of possible abnormalities, but by no means all.  Many potential complications aren’t about the fetus, but the pregnancy - gestational diabetes, preeclampsia - and I’m still weeks away from those screenings.  And some conditions are simply unknowable until birth, or shortly after.

What’s worse, the tests are not pass/fail.  Like many things in life, all they can do is tell you if you’re in the grey area.  If you are, then there are more tests.  And some of those tests are still open to interpretation.  A child with Down’s Syndrome could have an IQ as low as 35 - moderately retarded.  But plenty of Down’s Syndrome kids are double that, and function reasonably well in the wider world.  Even at birth, you don’t know your child’s talents and capabilities - none of us do.  And research suggests that intervention and care can make a big difference.

Of course, I wonder if I could handle a special needs child.  I’m not a patient person, and I’m uncomfortable with weakness.  Would I resent my child?  Be embarrassed by her failings and shortcomings?  Would I regret saying no to the test?  Or would I unleash my inner activist and battle for my kiddo until her world was as accessible and filled with opportunity as possible?

At heart, I’m a lion.  I think I’d go to war.

While my politics are strongly pro-choice, I can’t imagine aborting a child, even one that appears to suffer from significant disabilities.

It’s a funny corner of my mind where logic steps aside and raw emotion takes over.  There’s motherlove there, a fierce and growling instinct to protect this little fish already making his presence known.  And the part of me that understands fear and joy and the narrow band between tells me that this world may be cruel to the so-called imperfect, but that they have gifts to offer us, too.

Surveys suggest that the overwhelming majority of parents who receive a diagnosis of Down’s syndrome do, in fact, terminate the pregnancy.  But not all.  Alaska governor Sarah Palin recently gave birth to her fifth child, a son born with Down’s Syndrome.  In a statement released by her and her husband, she said, “We have faith that every baby is created for good purpose and has potential to make this world a better place.”

I believe that.  For someone as vaguely religious as yours truly, it’s a leap of faith.  But pregnancy and parenting is always a leap.  We can name them, dress them, squire them about the parts of the world where we fit.  But ultimately, we give birth to completely independent, autonomous human beings who will amaze and surprise us.  And yes, disappoint us, too.

Someone new dwells within me.  With rich potential for good.  And I want to go through this pregnancy and delivery focused on the positive and the possible, not the dangers.  When I hold her in my arms the first time, if there is troubling news, then I’ll be ready.

But not until then.