A Book of American Martyrs(20)

They say that Down’s children are strange-looking with those sort of flat, moon faces like a Mongol face but Daphne did not look so much like this she looked more like a doll with pretty painted-on features. Her hair was pale brown and wavy and her eyes were beautiful though small and slanted in her face and just slightly crossed so you could never tell which eye was looking at you. Her grandmother had told us, she’d been born with weak lungs and a weak heart—the Dunphys were considering whether to get heart surgery for her as doctors were suggesting, or to put their trust in the Lord.

This was a surprise to hear. You would think the heart surgery (in Columbus at the medical school) would be very expensive but Luther was saying, a “pediatric cardiologist” would operate on Daphne for no fee or for some fee that a third party would pay but Luther worried that this was some kind of welfare or federal government program he did not believe in. Whether it was his church beliefs, or Luther Dunphy himself, he would become upset over the issue of “federal subsidies” and “welfare”—the “Socialist state” which was a “godless atheistical state.”

Daphne was hard of hearing in both ears, but she’d got to the point she could read lips, almost. She would stare at your face as if she was holding her breath. No other children cared so much about any adult! The Dunphys began to worry that something was wrong when Daphne didn’t learn to crawl until she was a year old—and finally was able to walk when she was about two, if somebody had hold of her hand. She could not eat food like other children, there was some problem with chewing and swallowing. And there was low thyroid, that had to be corrected with medication (which the Dunphys did not like to give her). You could see that Daphne had “developmental” problems just by the look of her. It was sad when she got old enough to see what other children her age could do, that she could not do; this was frustrating to her, and made her cry. But she was happy just to be with her mother, and didn’t need to play with anyone else. She could recognize herself in the mirror unlike a dog or a cat can do, and liked to wave her hands and laugh at herself like a little monkey.

There was nothing unusual about the Dunphy family. A normal family (more or less) until Daphne was born. And even that—some kind of learning disability, or handicap, isn’t so unusual in a family. Luther Dunphy worked for Fischer Construction, roofing and carpentry. He and Edna Mae belonged to that evangelical church on Cross Creek Road where Luther had done a lot of the carpentry and roof work and painting and was always donating his time doing repairs. Even after he’d had that terrible accident and almost died, and was in the hospital for six weeks, soon as he got back to work he was over at the church, helping out. There were two boys and two girls older than Daphne. The older boy Luke was a worrier, his grandma said, like Luther, but a good reliable boy like his dad. The older girl Dawn had some trouble in school getting along with the other children but the younger girl was a pretty little girl quiet and well liked.

Edna Mae’s sister Noreen was telling us how Edna Mae had had some bleeding in the pregnancy, which was her sixth or seventh pregnancy because she’d had a miscarriage or two over the years. And people were saying Luther should be protective of his wife, and not make her pregnant all the time. Her own family was saying Edna Mae was too old, and should have known better. But how is it the woman’s fault! It is more the man’s fault. And if you looked at Luther Dunphy, and at Edna Mae, you’d see right away whose fault it was—had to be Luther, pushing himself on the woman like some big rutting stallion. You’d see sometimes, a look in Luther’s face, in his eyes, like a struck match hurriedly shook out—just the remains of it. For sure, Luther had strong feelings no matter how he hid them.

And Edna Mae always giving in to anyone, that smile like a rubber band stretched tight to bursting. Her hair was falling out, you could see the scalp beneath, and around her left thumbnail scabs where she’d bitten it. That kind of good Christian woman who wouldn’t lift a hand to protect herself, if somebody came at her with a baseball bat. If she was drowning.

The doctor in Muskegee Falls had sent Edna Mae to have prenatal screening at the hospital in Springfield, because she’d been having pains and bleeding, and she hadn’t wanted to go, she was afraid of the hospital “doing something” to her when she was being examined. It was very hard for Edna Mae to consent to a pelvic exam, even when it was explained carefully to her and there was a nurse right beside her. And Luther didn’t trust any hospital, either. About all they trusted was their church—not just any Christian church but only their own church. (Which taught their followers to be suspicious of other Christian churches.) But Edna Mae finally went to have the test when she was four months pregnant, am-ny-o-syn-tho-sis, and so they were informed that the baby would be born with deficits as it is called, including respiratory and neurological, and cardiac—they can see all that in an X-ray these days, in the mother’s womb. Of course, they can see if it’s a boy or a girl—but they won’t tell you if you don’t want to know. (The Dunphys did not want to know.) And so, the doctor told Edna Mae and Luther there’s a strong probability of Down’s syndrome and explained what it was. He told Edna Mae and Luther to think hard whether they would like the pregnancy “terminated”—which he could do at the hospital, as a regular surgical procedure.

Of course, both Edna Mae and Luther were very upset about this. They left the hospital right away, and drove home.