Earlier this month, a Portland jury awarded nearly $3 million to a couple who claimed that they were damaged by the negligence of Legacy's Center for Maternal-Fetal Medicine. The couple, who were expecting a baby, had gone to Legacy for a prenatal test called chorionic villus sampling (CVS). CVS is supposed to determine if a fetus has a normal chromosomal profile. The test results showed that all was "normal" and yet, months later, the couple gave birth to a baby with Down syndrome. According to the Oregonian newspaper, the couple sued to recover the "estimated extra lifetime costs of caring for a child with Down syndrome."

The legal argument went like this: the couple had depended upon Legacy to perform competent testing. If they had known the fetus had Down syndrome, they would have chosen to abort (like 89% of other pregnant women who receive this information.) Having foregone abortion in reliance upon the test results, the couple had the baby and now expected a significantly greater financial burden to raise and care for their child.

For many parents of children with Down syndrome, this verdict was a slap in the face. It is bad enough that so many expectant parents choose to abort when learning that they will have a child with disabilities. But for society, a court and a jury to award damages to a couple who have given birth to a child who is entitled to the same love, support and opportunity to reach his or her potential as any other person, seems insulting and nonsensical.  

Viewed from a public policy perspective, this case says that a parent who chooses not to have prenatal screening or chooses to have a child with Down syndrome is expected to carry most of the additional financial load of raising the child with, in certain cases, meager public assistance offered by the state of Oregon. A parent, however, who chooses to have testing and is willing to abort upon receipt of the results, shall be held financially harmless.

Ten years ago, in a ceremony at the Oregon state capitol, Gov. John Kitzhaber apologized for the state's past policy of forcibly sterilizing people who were in state care. He was the second governor in the nation to formally recognize that this practice was wrong. (Oregon had been one of 33 states with forced sterilization laws.) Kitzhaber told a packed room of about 80 survivors and their supporters: “The time has come to apologize for misdeeds that resulted from widespread misconceptions, from ignorance and from bigotry. To those who suffered, I say the people of Oregon are sorry, and our hearts are heavy for the pain that you endured.”

At least 2,648 people were sterilized in Oregon between 1917 and 1981, under the banner of "eugenics" which sought to breed a better human race by preventing those with traits they deemed undesirable from having children. The practice targeted a broad range of people including individuals with disabilities, criminals, promiscuous girls and homosexuals.

Sterilizations were legally authorized at Fairview Training Center, then called the State Institution for the Feeble-Minded, under a law passed by the Oregon Legislature which created the State Board of Eugenics in 1923. The Board of Eugenics was abolished in 1983.  That's right, less than 30 years ago.

Today, we do not summarily castrate people with Down syndrome.  Our policies, instead, encourage couples to forestall these individuals' existence altogether.  

I am not writing this to challenge a woman's constitutional right to control her own body. But Disability Rights Oregon is dedicated to protecting the civil and human rights of individuals with disabilities. We must ask these profound questions: Who can legitimately place a higher value on one human life over another? What assumptions does a person make when deciding that a life is inferior? What role does the government (including the courts) have in encouraging, discouraging or even just recognizing the practice of disability discrimination, particularly when life is at stake?  

Governor Kitzhaber is now back in office. He has put a halt to state executions of those convicted of aggravated murder. Perhaps it's time to re-evaluate how Oregon values the lives of individuals with disabilities.

It’s March and in Portland and that can mean sheets of cold winter rain or brilliant blue skies that say spring is tantalizingly close.  Both, really: sometimes one or the other every ten minutes. 

Here at DRO, we are settling into new digs.  After 18 years at our former location, we moved two blocks west to the corner of Broadway and Alder in downtown Portland.  Our move was prompted by the need to find less expensive rent.  Like many other publicly-funded programs, budgets are strapped.

Moving is always a challenge, especially after collecting 18 years worth of, uh, junk.  It can be especially interesting for a program like ours that likes to settle into older office buildings which must be thoroughly accessible for clients, staff and visitors with disabilities.  I’ve joked that we should move more often just to bring more old buildings into ADA compliance.

When we signed our last lease five years ago, we had no way of knowing that the Oregon legislature would decide to hold yearly sessions and it’s 2012 session would meet in February.  We didn’t know that we would be in the midst of a major lawsuit seeking to enforce the rights of individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities who want integrated employment.  We also didn’t know that a few staff members would be grappling with serious health or family issues.  We did know that the lease ended on February 29, 2012, Leap Day.  Back in 2007, that date sounded peaceful enough.

But we did it!  The phones, computers, servers, desks, chairs, books, files, bookcases, file cabinets, printers, plants, pictures, tables, lamps, appliances, and just plain, uh, stuff, made it with hardly any disruption in service.  We’ve changed our stationery, business cards, and shortened our web address.  The building has installed power door openers, a new elevator and is still making modifications to suit our needs.  All the boxes aren’t empty but we’re getting there.

Meanwhile, the legislative session completed its work on major reforms to health care, education and early childhood services, passed a budget that avoided additional cuts to human services and declined to pass a few bills that would have eroded the rights of Oregonians with disabilities.  DRO’s casework, litigation, outreach, training, benefits planning and information/referral services have continued unabated. 

This is all to say that February presented DRO with many challenges.  Our incredible staff, however, rose to the occasion.  Long hours, a flurry of details and a variety of major stressors have been endured and overcome.  What also endures is the skill of our staff, commitment to our clients and passion for DRO’s mission.

I say it often: it is a privilege to do this important work with our incredible crew of employees, volunteers and partners.  Thank you.