My eldest daughter is the sibling who has, over the years, seemed to feel most negatively about Ricki. Part of this was undoubtedly due to the fact that she had been the most excited about the idea that she would have a sister (my other children are all male), and the disappointment of Ricki’s diagnosis hit her very hard. She did not take Ricki to functions where one is expected to bring a younger sister, and took, instead, her niece. (And I never made an issue of this.) As a teenager, she swore up and down that when SHE got married, she would do all the pre-natal testing in the world. So when she got pregnant I purposely did not ask her about whether she had done a triple screen, as I preferred not to know the answer.
Then last night, in the delivery ward, they asked my oldest daughter why she hadn’t done a triple screen. She looked the doctor in the eye and said:
“Doctor, I have a fifteen year old sister who has Down syndrome. I love her dearly. I can not imagine for one minute what my life would be like if my mother had chosen not to have her.”