“I’m sure you’ve already read this,” he wrote. “But just in case.”

I hadn’t. Am I glad he sent it? I don’t know. It kind of pissed me off, to tell you the truth. And the more I think about it, the madder I get. The question is insulting, condescending, cute — should I go on?

To even ask the question, “Is it harder to have a child with Down syndrome?” is to imply that it’s politically incorrect to say, “Why yes, by golly, it most certainly is!”

Of-freaking-course it is. It’s harder. Some days, maybe not. But most, for sure. It’s also completely awesome to be Sophie’s mother. It’s a total privilege.

And we should be able to live in a world where both things are true.

All that said, I’ll admit that I completely get the question. I remember exactly where I was sitting when I told my dad I’d decided against the amnio.

“I don’t know, Ames,” he said in a gruff voice, then offered the only piece of advice I recall him ever offering me, my whole life — other than the time he got mad at me for ordering butter on my popcorn at the movies.

“Those kids are a lot of work. What about Annabelle?”

So yeah. I get the question.  I just (sort of) wish my friend hadn’t sent that link.