Over 20 years ago when my husband and I first fell in love, we dreamed of our future and what it may look like. We discussed details of our wedding, where we would live, and how many children we wanted. We contemplated what they might look like and gifts they would inherit.
Basically, we expected clones of ourselves, or even better, the best versions of ourselves.
We never discussed any unexpected “issues” because who does that?
Sometimes I day-dream about going back in time and having do-over conversation with my husband. We would hypothesize what the intermingling of our genetic codes and inheritable traits might produce, and what might go wrong.
If we did that, would we have decided against having children? Would we have felt it was too risky? Of course not, because we were in love, and wanted to bring children into the world and love the heck out of them. We romanticized the idea. We did not explore problems that may occur because, again, who does that?
Given the chance for a do-over, we would do it all the same. And we would have the same three sons who we love more than anything in the world, and two would be unexpectedly autistic.