Lawyer Couple Tested by an Unexpected Trial of Parenthood

At 35, Bill Halle thought he knew himself. Good husband. Loving father. A man in search of spiritual meaning to his life. Volunteer for the Multiple Sclerosis Society. I personally know of a couple who considered him a godsend for his pro bono legal work.

In November 1998, then, we would have told the story of a pretty good guy who had the world by the tail, and awaiting the birth of his third child would be another rose in the garden.

On the morning after his son Nick’s birth, the doctor told Bill and Dana Halle: “I have some bad news; I think your child has Down syndrome.”

The words swept over both parents like a force field, at once stunning and pinning them in their places. There was no pretense of stiff-upper-lip stuff. Gloom filled the room. Bill later would refer to the night before Nick’s birth as “the last happy evening of my life.”

Dana, on the verge of her 35th birthday, wasn’t much better. “We high-tailed it out of the hospital,” she says. “I left crying, and it wasn’t because I was taking home my precious baby. It was because I wanted to leave him there.”

To them, raising a child with Down syndrome was almost unthinkable. As two lawyers raised in homes that stressed education, the notion of a child with mental retardation was too much. Bill Halle pictured a family life forever constrained, if not ruined, by the infant intruder who surely would change everything for the worst.

“I viewed him as defective,” he says. “He didn’t fit into my charmed life.”

Within days, Dana changed her mind as Bill’s hardened. He wanted to put Nick up for adoption. He argued that if there were waiting lists for people wanting Down syndrome babies--which there are--why not give Nick to someone who wanted him?

“Because he’s our son,” Dana said.

Bill was unmoved, tending lovingly to Lauren and Patrick (then 3 1/2 and 2) but grudgingly to Nick. The Halles openly wondered if the seemingly irreconcilable wedge developing between them would derail their 6 1/2-year marriage.

“He wasn’t reachable at that time,” Dana says. “It was a side I had not seen before.”

Nick’s arrival dovetailed with Bill’s search for a meaningful relationship with God. In the days before the birth, Halle had told God in no uncertain terms not to play any tricks with the new baby.

So he took Nick’s condition personally, as a kind of holy rebuke. Worse, for someone who’d considered himself a decent, loving guy, Halle had to face the fact he was capable of rejecting his own son.

“The first time I was changing his diaper,” Halle says, “I remember being revolted by him and breaking down and crying, because I was so ashamed of myself at being revolted by my own son.”

The Halles tell these stories now even though so much has changed. Although the memories are painful, they know their stories echo those of countless other young couples caught off guard by something they thought they couldn’t handle.

Sitting in their Costa Mesa home one night last week, as Nick in a high chair offered pizza bits to a visitor, the Halles spoke of their new mission.

It’s to tell other new parents--or anyone who will listen--about Down syndrome and how Nick’s life is one of possibilities, not limitations.

Earlier this year, the Halles set up the Down Syndrome Foundation of Orange County. They hope its fund-raising and awareness programs will augment the work of Parents Regional Outreach for Understanding Down Syndrome (PROUD), a long-standing Orange County support group.

On Oct. 27 at the Hyatt Newporter Hotel, the Halles will hold their foundation’s first fund-raiser--a dinner-auction with more than 300 in attendance and with proceeds going to PROUD.

Their activism grew from their frustration in learning what to do for Nick--both at home and in the outside world of social services.

“We found a fragmented system,” says Dana, who has since designed a parent-education program and begun a support group that meets in the Halle home.

“You just don’t walk out of the hospital and know what to do,” she says. “We thought, ‘We’re two lawyers and we’re having a difficult time finding out what he needs. What about other people, like non-English speakers?’ ”

I do the Halles an injustice in trying to recite what Nick has taught them. The lessons are too nuanced, too deep and are written more clearly in the heart than on the printed page.

They are lessons about the true essence of a human being and about parents’ desires for the “perfect” child at birth.

“It’s not that the definition of perfect has changed,” Dana says. “I’d still rather that he not have Down syndrome. It’s just that perfect doesn’t seem to matter as much to us.”

Bill Halle once was angry with God because he thought he gave him a Down syndrome baby on purpose. How could he?

He’s now convinced more than ever Nick was sent on purpose. My guess is that on the night of Oct. 27, he and Dana will explain that in full to the assembled black-tie crowd, probably with a mixture of celebration and tears.

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821 or by writing to him at The Times’ Orange County edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail to dana.parsons@latimes.com.