During my first pregnancy, I only went to the required check-ups. I didn’t attend any additional genetic screenings. Not because of money, lack of information, or fear of the results. I was simply certain that no matter what they said, it wouldn’t change my decision: I wanted this child.
Back then, this felt like a consistent, even morally clear stance to me. I believed that if information wouldn’t influence my decision, I didn’t need it. I didn’t want knowledge that I’d then have to "do something with." I wanted to stay calm and trust that we’d figure everything out.
My Daughter Is Now Seven and Has Asperger’s Syndrome
Of course, no test could have predicted this, but it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t trade her for anyone. She’s smart, sensitive, and sees the world in her own unique way — and I love her with all my heart. While she makes our family feel complete and I don’t plan to have more children, I still sometimes wonder: would I make the same choices about screenings today?
One thing I’m sure of: if I had another child, I’d want them too. No matter what, or rather, alongside everything. Loving them with that endless, unwavering love is not a question for me. But I also see now how naive I was during my first pregnancy.
I had no real idea what raising a child would involve. Not because I hadn’t read up or talked to other moms. Some experiences just can’t be imagined beforehand. I don’t think any of us truly understood what it meant to be a mother before becoming one.
And especially, I didn’t know what it meant to support a child with special educational needs.
Asperger’s isn’t a disease, tragedy, or a “broken” state. But it does require special attention, awareness, often extra energy, and research. Different communication. A different kind of patience. Often more organization, explanation, and advocacy within the system.
Looking back, I made that decision very easily. Easy because I honestly had no idea what was at stake. I didn’t weigh resources, mental stamina, or future challenges. Not because I was irresponsible — but simply because I couldn’t see it all clearly.
I Thought Love Was Enough for Everything
Today, I know love is the foundation. But it’s not everything. Systems, support, mental stability, and the ability to admit your limits are all essential.
As a mom now, I see my role much more realistically. With the same deep love, but fewer romantic illusions. I know I can give so much. But I also know I have limits. I get tired. I get drained. Sometimes my patience runs out. Sometimes I need help.
Maybe that’s why I sometimes wonder: if I had another pregnancy, would I still decline genetic screening, thinking “it wouldn’t change anything”?
I’m not sure.
Maybe today I’d seek that information not to change the decision, but to prepare. To have time to get ready emotionally, logistically, and with knowledge. So I wouldn’t be starting from zero when the baby is already in my arms.
This doesn’t mean I made the wrong choice back then. With the maturity, knowledge, and perspective I had, it was the honest answer. Today, I’m a different person — with more experience, self-awareness, and maybe more humility.
Either way, I’m grateful that with what I know now, I don’t have to face this question again. I don’t have to weigh information against uncertainty. I don’t have to make decisions about an imagined future.
What I have is my daughter. Her reality, my reality, our shared story. And the sure knowledge that whatever life brings, we’ll be here for each other.
