GUEST OPINION: Children with disabilities deserve a chance at life

Disclaimer: Opinions expressed in this guest post are solely those of the author.

Being the father of a child with a disability hasn’t been easy. It’s a journey I never expected to take, but one that has shaped me in ways I could never have imagined.

Adjusting expectations

I remember the day my wife found out she was pregnant. The excitement we shared was overwhelming. That same night we ran to the store and bought a neutral onesie—just because we could. We stood there in the baby aisle smiling, dreaming about the future. As a father, I had so many visions of what life would look like. I imagined tossing a football in the yard, teaching my son to ride a bike, and one day driving him to his first dance.

Like most parents, I had a picture in my mind of how things would go.

But slowly, those visions began to fade as I realized things weren’t unfolding the way I had expected.

By the time he was three years old, he wasn’t hitting the basic milestones other kids his age were reaching. He wasn’t speaking the way other children were. He struggled with things that seemed to come naturally to others. My heart was torn between concern and hope. I told myself he was just a little behind and that surely he would catch up.

But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right.

During those quiet moments when the house was still, the questions would creep into my mind. I began asking myself things that many parents in my situation wrestle with “Was it me? Did I somehow cause this? Did I miss something important?” 

The truth was, I didn’t know.

Fight fiercely, lead with love

Part of me resisted the idea of a diagnosis. I didn’t want my son to be labeled. No parent dreams of hearing that their child will face lifelong challenges. But at the same time, I knew that without a diagnosis, he wouldn’t be able to access the medical care, therapy, and services he needed.

It felt like a cruel paradox. The label I didn’t want was the very thing he needed.

Eventually, the day came when we sat in a doctor’s office and heard the words that would change our lives—our son had autism. It was relieving in one way, but in another, our world was spinning.

Sitting there as the doctor explained the symptoms, behaviors, and challenges was incredibly painful. In many ways, they were simply describing things we already knew were happening, but hearing them spoken aloud made it real in a way that’s hard to describe. My heart felt heavy. There’s a unique grief that comes with realizing your child’s path will be different from the one you imagined.

But something else happened in that moment too.

I realized that I had a choice to make. I could let the fear and uncertainty overwhelm me, or I could step up and fight for my son.

I knew my personality. I knew that once I understood the road ahead, I wasn’t going to stop until he had every opportunity he deserved.

That meant learning everything I could. It meant advocating when systems failed him. It meant showing up when things were difficult. From special needs baseball leagues where he could experience the joy of playing sports, to legal battles to make sure his rights were respected, I committed myself to fighting like hell for him.

And I learned something important along the way. You can fight fiercely while still leading with love.

I always tried to keep a smile on my face through the hard moments, because I knew my son was watching me. Children see more than we realize. I wanted him to see strength, not defeat.

The Pro-Life Reply to: "Babies with Disabilities Are Better Off Aborted"

A disturbing discovery

One evening while doing research, I began reading about Down syndrome. Many of my son’s friends have Down syndrome, and I wanted to better understand their experiences. As I read more, I discovered something that deeply disturbed me.

A large percentage of children diagnosed with Down syndrome in the womb are aborted.

In some places, the number is shockingly high. Places like Iceland, Denmark, and the UK abort all kids with Down syndrome. In the U.S., we are seeing somewhere in the upper 60% of children with Down syndrome aborted. Those are all kids who would be friends with our Zakkary but weren’t given a chance at life.

As I continued reading, I also saw discussions about developing prenatal tests for autism. Some people openly suggested that if autism could be detected early enough in pregnancy, parents might choose abortion.

That realization broke my heart all over again.

How could a society that claims to value compassion decide that children like mine are better off not being born?

Yes, raising a child with special needs can be challenging. There are hard days. There are moments of exhaustion, frustration, and worry about the future. But there are also moments of incredible beauty—moments that change you for the better.

Because of my son, I’ve become a stronger person. I’ve become more patient, more compassionate, and more aware of the struggles other families face.

His brother has grown in ways that inspire me every day. He had to grow up a little faster than most kids his age, but he has become an incredible big little brother who will do anything to make sure everyone is included. He understands what it feels like to see someone left behind, and he refuses to let that happen.

And my wife—she’s a powerhouse. Her strength amazes me. She seems to have an endless supply of energy, compassion, and determination when it comes to our family.

Our lives may look different than what I once imagined, but that doesn’t make them less meaningful. God has blessed us with this path.

If anything, it makes them more meaningful.

Seeing the value

Families like ours don’t need pity, and our children certainly don’t need to be eliminated before they ever take their first breath. They need support. They need opportunity. And most of all, they need people who are willing to see their value.

Our family may be unique, but one thing is certain. None of us deserve to be dead simply because life is harder.

Children with disabilities are not mistakes. They are not burdens. They are human beings with inherent dignity and worth. And they deserve the chance to live, to grow, and to change the world in ways we may never fully understand.