Finding Isadora(38)
“You do.” And I’d never understood why two people who shared such a special love would want to sleep with other partners.
“When we were in our thirties, we talked about it,” Grace said. “We figured that kind of love should produce a child, and we decided that’s what we wanted to do. Of course we couldn’t be sure we’d last forever as a couple, but we trusted each other. We knew we’d always be friends, always stand by our child.”
I carried the phone into the living room and sank down in my rattan basket chair. Pogo settled himself on my feet, anchoring me. “So you made the decision to have a child, and the two of you were faithful?”
“I went off the pill and we were faithful. That was a special time. It brought us closer than we’d imagined two people could be. Planning for you, experiencing my pregnancy. And your birth.”
“At the commune.” I nodded into the phone. This part I knew. My parents had lived in a huge, ramshackle old house in the Fraser Valley with a dozen other people. Most of the household had gathered around as a midwife supervised and Jimmy Lee delivered Grace’s baby. We had photos in a family album.
“Why are you asking this question now, hon?” Grace asked
“I…” I couldn’t tell Grace about Richard’s situation. “I was thinking about free love and being the child of hippie parents. It hit me that it would be such a shock to suddenly find out the person you’d thought of as your father all your life wasn’t really your father.”
“I suppose. The same kind of thing as for people who find out later in life that they were adopted. But the parents who raised and loved you would be your real parents in every meaningful sense of the word.”
Ah, but Gabriel had never really been there for Richard. However, Grace and I were talking hypotheticals now, not about my own or Richard’s situation. “In emotional terms, I’m sure that’s true. But what about things like genetic traits? Illnesses, predispositions. I mean, what if one of your biological parents had some horrible disease, and you had the gene for it, and you could help prevent it by doing certain things—or you could get tested so it would be diagnosed early and treated? Shouldn’t you know this stuff?”
When I paused for breath, Grace started to say something, but I kept right on going. “You might live your life differently. You might not get married. Would it be fair on your spouse to have to nurse you and watch you die? You might not have kids because you could pass the disease along.” My voice had risen and speeded up as I began to identify with Richard’s panic. Now I understood his desire to know everything about his heredity.
Grace chuckled softly. “You modern young people. Jimmy Lee and I didn’t give the slightest thought to what genetic traits lurked in our families.”
Of course they hadn’t; they’d probably been too stoned. I refrained from pointing out that rational planning wasn’t something either of them had ever cared about.
“Very few people have ever had the kind of information you’re talking about,” Grace went on. “Really horrible, obvious things like hemophilia, maybe. But we’re only just figuring out what other diseases may have a genetic component. Things like Alzheimer’s, Huntington’s, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia. Seems to me, hon, that when you love someone and they love you, the two of you want to be together. You don’t leave someone because they’re sick. So, would you somehow manage to prevent yourself from loving them just because they might get sick later?”
I’d said something similar to Richard. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But what about children? If both parents carried a gene for some awful illness, shouldn’t they know? So they could make an informed decision about having children?”
“Having a baby is always a risk. People with perfect genes, perfect health, can have children with dreadful physical and mental problems. And if two people love each other and want to create a baby out of that love—like Jimmy Lee and I did—they take their chances, sure. But they’re going to have a child they love with all their hearts. Even if that little girl or boy has a physical or mental illness.”
“But is it fair to bring a child into the world when there’s a likelihood it might have a serious problem?”
“Hmm.” She paused. “That’s a complicated question. I’d say it’s fair on the parents if they know the risk they’re taking, but maybe it isn’t if they don’t. So I see what you mean about making an informed decision. As for the child, I think it’s fair to her or him because otherwise that unique human being wouldn’t exist at all.”
Grace went on, her tone reflective. “But then there’s society. Is it fair to society, to the taxpayers who are going to have to pay for support services? But on the other hand, society has reaped huge benefits from people with serious illnesses. Look at Stephen Hawking with ALS, Michael J. Fox with Parkinson’s, and Patty Duke with bipolar disorder. Surely no-one would ever say the world would be better off without them. Not only have they made a contribution in their professions, but they’ve done so much to increase public awareness about their illnesses.”
I nodded thoughtfully, wishing Grace and I, and Jimmy Lee too, were having this discussion in their living room, sharing wine or herbal tea. This was one of the best things about my parents—their intelligence, curiosity, and openness. They never settled for easy answers. They were as eager to explore and debate, to argue and change their minds, as they must have been in university days.