You Are. But do you think?

How do we square the fact that, under UK law, a foetus has no rights separate from those of its mother, with the fact that it is undoubtedly a living human being? Anyone who has ever been pregnant will tell you that the foetus is most definitely alive. Every foetus that survives pregnancy will be born a human baby – it has no potential to become anything else. It is, therefore, a living human being. Why, once the threshold of viablility is passed, does it still have no rights of its own?

 

How do we square the fact that those who would deny the foetus any rights and protections in law under the guise of ‘a woman’s right to choose’, then limit that right to choose by steering women towards one particular course of action over another, according to what is considered socially acceptable in her circumstances? How is true choice possible when society exerts subtle pressure on women to choose one course of action over another instead of allowing her to decide for herself. For Instance, in the case of prenatal screening, a woman’s right to choose is fast being conflated, in society’s expectation, with a woman’s moral duty to abort a foetus found to have certain disabilities or conditions.

 

How do we square the above with the Rights of Disabled Persons?

 

Would it not be sensible to take the decision not to have any children at all, if you really believe that you could not cope with raising a disabled child? After all, there is no guarantee that the child born healthy and non-disabled today will remain healthy and non-disabled tomorrow, because shit happens. For that matter, what would you do if you ended up having to care for a disabled spouse, because shit happens? Or disabled elderly parents, because shit, and ageing, happen? Would you knock them on the head and say you had to do that because they were too difficult to look after and, in your opinion, had low quality of life?

 

Does asking these questions make me ‘pro-life’? If it does, what’s wrong with respecting the dignity and sanctity of human life anyway? That respect is probably the only thing stopping me from throttling the people who suggest my son should not have the right to life.

 

Does asking these questions make me ‘anti-woman?’ No woman is just a woman, she’s also a human being, and was once a foetus (as we all were). She may also be Disabled. Or any one of many other things. Intersectionality is part of all human experience to some degree.

 

How do we care for and protect women who have been abused or raped, or are economically disadvantaged, etc, and at the same time give rights and protections to the unborn child?

 

If we refuse to protect the unborn Disabled child, what does this say about our perceptions of disability? And do these perceptions negatively affect the lives of children and adults living with disability? Doesn’t the view that Disabled people are ‘disposable’ before birth tend to erode their status after birth? How does this attitude affect public planning and the provision of services, and so on?

 

Don’t kill, rape, abuse, or discriminate. Treat others as you would like to be treated yourself. Protect and care for the vulnerable. Aren’t all these things no-brainers?  

 

 

 

Advertisements

A Woman’s Right to Choose

We talk about ‘a woman’s right to choose’. Eight and a half years ago I exercised my ‘woman’s right to choose’ to the fullest extent. I chose to continue with my pregnancy knowing that my child would have Down’s Syndrome.
 

I am a rational adult. Given accurate and balanced information (that’s another story in itself) I am perfectly capable of evaluating the data and weighing up the pros and cons of any situation or argument. I made a conscious, rational choice in the full knowledge of what I was doing.
I made my choice knowing that I would not have to sacrifice my life, because nothing feels like a sacrifice when you have made the right choice.
I made my choice knowing that my son would not be a burden to me; he would be my child. Yes, I would have to look after him for longer, and he would always need more help than most, but he would bring me just as much joy, and love, and pride, as his brother and sister.
I made my choice in the knowledge that my son need not be a burden to you, the taxpayer, when he grows up (let’s face it, that’s what you mean when you talk about a burden on ‘the state’ or ‘the NHS’). We, his parents, are rational adults – we would plan ahead for his future, for when we are no longer here. I made my choice in the knowledge that my family also pays its share of tax (we don’t begrudge extra care to others who need more than we do, not even those who have smoked, drunk, or drugged themselves into an early decline – everyone has their frailties. And while we’re talking about cost to the state, let’s consider how few, if any, adults with Down’s Syndrome will end up in prison – it’s a valid point).
 I made my choice aware that my life would not perfect: it never has been, but then, whose is? Life does not have to be perfect to be happy. When you make the choice that is right for you, it is much easier to find moments of contentment day-to-day: this is the root of happiness.
So, if you see me and my son hand-in-hand in the supermarket or at the park, please accept that this is what a ‘woman’s right to choose’ sometimes looks like.

Because a ‘choice’ where only one alternative is deemed acceptable, is no choice at all.