Every 22 seconds.

Twenty-one years ago, my mother was at the doctor having some prenatal testing done on her “bun in the oven”—me. The doctors had told her and my father during the last visit that there were some abnormalities with the pregnancy. My parents were told that I, their soon-to-be first born child, would have Down Syndrome.

After delivering the news to my parents, the doctors strongly advised them to have an abortion. Claiming that it would just be easier than dealing with a special needs child for the rest of their lives. My parents refused to even consider it. The doctors asked my parents to at least take time to think about it and to take another test. They agreed to do the test, but guaranteed the doctor that regardless of the results they were not having an abortion.

That afternoon, they were doing an amniocentesis test on my…