Article

Journal of Child Health Care

2017, Vol. 21(4) 488–497
Parenting children with Down ª The Author(s) 2017
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DOI: 10.1177/1367493517727131
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Lourdes Huiracocha1, Carlos Almeida2, Karina Huiracocha3,

Jorge Arteaga4, Andrea Arteaga4 and Stuart Blume5

Abstract
Most studies of parenting children with Down syndrome (DS) have been conducted in indus-
trialized countries. They suggest that sensitive communication on the part of professionals, and
social support, can lead to acceptance and positive adjustments in the family. This study examined
the impact of a diagnosis of DS on Ecuadorian families, in particular at how the diagnosis had been
communicated and received, as well as the feelings and experiences which followed. Despite
considerable progress in recent years, Ecuador is still marked by discriminatory attitudes which
affect children with disabilities and their families, and by the persistence of widespread poverty.
This qualitative study, conducted in Cuenca, Ecuador’s third largest city, is based on a focus group
discussion and four in-depth interviews with Ecuadorian parents of DS children attending a spe-
cialist center in the city. The study shows that, reflecting the effects of status differences and lack of
appropriate training, professionals rarely communicate a DS diagnosis in an appropriate manner.
Further, it is shown that lack of social support, and the widespread stigmatization confronting
children with DS and their families, hinder development of positive and empowering adjustments
that would best serve the child’s and the family’s interest.

Keywords
Communication skills, Down syndrome, Ecuador, family, stigma

1
Department of Pediatrics, Faculty of Medical Sciences, University of Cuenca, Cuenca, Azuay, Ecuador
2
Department of Family Psychosocial Intervention, Ministry of Economic and Social Inclusion, Cuenca, Azuay, Ecuador
3
Centre for Integral Stimulation and Psychotherapeutic Support, University of Azuay, Cuenca, Azuay, Ecuador
4
Ministry of Public Health of Ecuador, Cuenca, Azuay, Ecuador
5
Department of Anthropology, University of Amsterdam, Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Corresponding author:
Stuart Blume, Department of Anthropology, University of Amsterdam, PO Box 15509, 1001 NA Amsterdam,
The Netherlands.
Email: [email protected]
Huiracocha et al. 489

Introduction
On being told their newborn baby has an impairment, parents tend to react with a mixture of
shock and disbelief, followed by denial (Zappella, 2016). As the reality becomes undeniable,
feelings of guilt, fear of the reactions of others, and uncertainty regarding the future emerge
(Fortier and Wanlass, 1984; Mulcahy and Savage, 2016). Torn between powerful and
conflicting emotions, parents live through a stressful period in which coping depends on
support from one another, from extended families, friends, support groups, and skilled
professionals (Yildirim, et al., 2012). Some studies have found more positive sentiments
slowly emerging. Parents may come to see caring for a child with a chronic disability as
giving meaning and purpose to their lives: a source of self-actualization and fulfillment
(Schwartz, 2003).
The needs of children with different impairments differ, as do the practical and emotional
challenges which families face in providing for them (Landsman, 2005). Down syndrome (DS), the
most common genetic cause of intellectual disability, is generally associated with a distinctive
phenotype, and may involve delayed growth, additional health problems, and difficulties in car-
rying out activities of daily living, as well as intellectual deficits (Chapman and Hesketh, 2000).
Some studies have suggested that parents of children with DS enjoy greater well-being than those
of children with other intellectual disabilities. However, it has also been suggested that this so-
called ‘Down syndrome advantage’ is an artifact of income differentials which vanishes when
family income is controlled (Stoneman, 2007). What seems clear is that a family’s initial response
to the birth of a child with DS, as indeed of any disability, is influenced by the way in which it is
given the diagnosis (Baird, et al., 2000; Van Riper and Choi, 2011). All too often, this is done
insensitively. Parents resent the lack of compassion shown by many medical professionals, or the
lack of information provided, or the emphasis solely on future hardships (Goff, et al., 2013). In a
large-scale postal survey of members of the US parents’ associations, the majority of mothers who
had received a postnatal diagnosis of DS reported being frightened and/or anxious after learning
the diagnosis. This was all the more so when physicians were perceived to be emphasizing only the
negative aspects of DS (Skotko, 2005). Mothers in this study complained that few health care
professionals gave them the up-to-date information they wanted, or had anything to say about the
positive aspects of DS (Skotko, 2005).
Improved communication between parents, family, community, and the health system can
increase the satisfaction and the well-being both of the children with DS and their parents
(Marshall et al., 2014). As parents begin to value the child as a source of enrichment in family life,
positive adaptations can develop (King et al., 2006; Skotko et al., 2011). In a mixed methods study
of American parents of children with DS, grouped by age, Goff et al. found that certain indicators
of parents’ levels of stress (or difficulty in coping) fitted a U-curve. Stress was greatest when
children were under five years of age, declined, but then rose again post-adolescence (Goff et al.,
2016). Positive sentiments and adjustments were more likely the less uncertain parents felt, and the
more hopeful regarding their child’s future (Truitt et al., 2012). An in-depth qualitative study of
New York mothers of children with DS found that most did not see their families’ experiences as
having been characterized principally by suffering and hardship (Lalvani, 2008). This study found
that many mothers had shifted their focus of attention from their own child’s diagnosis to matters
of social inclusion and rejection. The author interprets this as suggesting that ‘mothers of children
with Down syndrome locate disability not only in their child but also in the social and political
environment’ (Lalvani, 2008, 442).
490 Journal of Child Health Care 21(4)

However, it remains unclear which aspects of the social and political environment affect a
family’s experiences of caring for a child with an intellectual disability. Most published studies,
conducted in rich industrialized countries, pay little attention to the characteristics of the society.
Despite this dearth of evidence, it is likely that not only access to services but also social norms
and values influence what adapting to parenting a child with an intellectual disability entails
(O’Shea et al., 2012). A society in which habits and customs reproduce inequalities, in which
stigmatizing attitudes are common, exacerbates the difficulties for many families (Lam and
Mackenzie, 2002). Thus, in a poor district of Lima (Peru), a child with an intellectual disability
coming from a respected family was more likely to be accepted in school and in the community
than one from a less respected family. The authors note that their conclusions agree with those of
a study in Mexico, where ‘a combination of insufficient family resources due to economic
deprivation and social deprivation’ also exacerbated the social exclusion of people with intel-
lectual disabilities (O’Shea et al., 2012, 257-258). The same norms, the same inequalities, will
generally characterize health care providers’ behavior toward their patients. Thus, a study
conducted in Medellin (Colombia) found that health workers tended to communicate the news of
the birth of a child with DS insensitively and without empathy, making parents uncertain and
fearful regarding their child’s future (Bastidas and Alcaraz, 2011). There is little or nothing to
give parents hope for the future or help them develop the positive sentiments likely to be in the
child’s and the family’s best interest.
Latin American societies such as these are marked not only by their high degree of social and
economic inequality, but also by the important role that religion plays in people’s lives. For many
caregivers, in particular, their faith is an important source of emotional support (Caqueo-Urı́zar
et al., 2016). A Brazilian study found that many mothers used religious rituals as a way of coping
with the fear evoked by having been told of their child’s DS (Nobrega and Oliveira, 2005).

Ecuador too is an overwhelmingly Catholic society, in which their faith and religious observance are
central to most people’s lives (Muñoz, 2016; Lyons, 2001). Despite the fact that the 2008 Constitution
specifically acknowledges the rights of the country’s indigenous communities as well as of people with
disabilities (notably Articles 47 to 49: see Asamblea Constituyente, 2008), the country is still marked
by great social and economic inequalities. Many, especially from the indigenous communities, live in
poverty and lack access to formal health care. There has been substantial emigration, with children left
in the care of one parent or a grandparent, and parents obliged to develop new forms of co-parenting at
a distance (Pribilsky, 2004; Rae-Espinoza, 2016).

Previous work showed that the caregivers’ accounts of their experiences raising a deaf or
hearing-impaired child refer to distinctive features of Ecuadorian society, including the importance
of religion, lack of access to or trust in the health care system, and family functioning, which
reflects the country’s extreme social stratification (Huiracocha et al., 2015). That study identified
two distinct clusters of experiences. On the one hand, there were parents who had access to both the
economic and the social resources needed to cope. They could rely on their extended families and
on peer support. On the other, there was a group almost completely lacking in social as well as
economic resources. These were parents whose extended family, itself possibly vulnerable and dis-
advantaged, shunned rather than supported them.
In the study reported here, we look further into influences from Ecuador’s distinctive social
environment. This article focuses specifically on (i) how families received a diagnosis of DS and
(ii) how the families subsequently adapted and coped.
Huiracocha et al. 491

The present study

Cuenca, situated at 2500 m in the Andes, is Ecuador’s third largest city. The city has been a pioneer
in establishing a system of municipal preschools (Centros de Desarrollo Infantil), though few of
these accept children with disabilities, or make appropriate adaptations to the program for those
who are admitted (Huiracocha et al., 2012).
Between January and April 2010, we carried out a qualitative study in a specialist center for
children with DS located in Cuenca. The study aimed to examine the impact of a DS diagnosis on
families, in particular at how the diagnosis had been communicated and received, as well as the
feelings and experiences which followed. Although at that time Ecuadorian law did not require a
review by a research ethics committee, the proposed project was reviewed by the university’s
research office, in the light of the Helsinki Declaration. The purpose of the investigation was
explained in person to all parents whose children attended the center and volunteers were invited to
participate in a focus group. Parents were told that discussions would be recorded, and that they
would be free to withdraw at any time they chose. Of the 19 parents (9 couples and 1 single mother),
8 agreed to participate in the focus group. Nonparticipants gave a variety of reasons for not wishing
to participate, including discomfort at the recording of discussion. Topics for discussion in the focus
group were elaborated in relation to four axes: location of the child’s birth, the feelings of the parents
on receiving the DS diagnosis, family circumstances and relationships at the time of the birth, and
relationships with health care professionals at the time of the birth. Parents participating were aged
between 28 years and 40 years, their children with DS were aged between less than two years and six
years, with the exception of one 16-year-old adolescent1. All except one participant were married and
lived with their partner. The socioeconomic and educational level of these parents was well above
average for the city. We knew from previous work that some parents would find it difficult to talk
about their real feelings. In a Catholic society such as this, any child is to be seen as a blessing for
which one must thank God. To express sadness or fear for the future is then an implicit denial of
one’s faith. To enable parents who wouldn’t want to admit to such sentiments to communicate their
feelings less directly, we provided paper and pencils. We invited participants to make drawings
which could then be discussed (Eldén, 2013). Thereafter, four interviews were conducted with
parents selected on the basis of the distinctly positive attitudes expressed in the focus group (two
interviews) and distinctly negative attitudes (two interviews). Three of these interviews were with the
mother alone and one with both parents. All interviewees agreed to proceedings being recorded and
interviews lasted for an average of two hours. Data reduction, coding, and analysis were done
manually using open descriptive coding. All investigators participated in the analysis and inter-
pretation of data: the analysis being subsequently reviewed by a psychologist. In this analysis, we
draw on both the focus group discussions and the interviews.

Results

Communicating and receiving the diagnosis

None of these mothers was happy with the antenatal care she had received. Mothers had been
frightened of giving birth, and health care personnel, unprepared psychologically, tended to delay
showing the baby to its mother when it was found to have DS. The diagnosis was generally not
given by a gynecologist or a pediatrician, but left to nurses or whichever resident happened to be on
duty. These arrangements only added to the anxiety, and women were often left with strong
492 Journal of Child Health Care 21(4)

feelings of denial. One of the mothers was actually sedated as medical staff tried verbally to force
her to accept her son. Another had been shocked by a priest, brought to offer consolation, but
whose words gave anything but that. As she later recalled what he had said

Look, I’ll tell you something, you don’t need to feel guilty, it’s your age, that’s all . . . God has sent you
an angel, and you’ll see that will give you all manner of blessings, and I’ll tell you something else: if
you accept the baby you will live and if you right now say no, God will leave you and you’ll be left with
no son and with only regrets

Responses of the parents in this study point to the whole gamut of inappropriate communication
on the part of the medical professionals:

OK, what he did was . . . he told me in such a terrible way . . . [pause] . . . he finished me, he killed me,
really, with the ugly words he used to tell me.

Professionals had been arrogant:

He said it like this . . . the girl is a Down . . . I said – but how can you say that if you . . . no, I have a
clinical eye . . . just like that . . . such a dictatorial manner, so heartless;

and had seemingly lacked knowledge of the particular case:

I don’t know if he’d even seen the child. Or maybe just lied to me. Anyway he told me it’s a lovely
male, it’s healthy;

They had also threatened:

If you don’t accept your child, well, then give him away!

And had held back or delayed providing information:

As soon as they took him out of my belly, they said take a quick look and they took him
away . . . afterwards . . . the nurses had changed, they said: wait until the other ones come

It appears from these mothers’ accounts that many doctors had been unable to deal with a sit-
uation which they themselves found stressful. The result was a retreat into silence on their part:

I don’t know why the doctors keep at such a distance . . . they don’t say much . . . they always look
busy . . . they never explain what’s happened. It’s even worse in the social security or in hospitals where
the doctors keep changing. You never know whom to ask . . . No one says anything. They keep
silent . . . like they’re looking at their shoes. You remember moments like those.

Occasions on which supportive communication had helped parents to imagine a positive future
were rare. More commonly the way in which mothers were informed evoked feelings of pain, fear,
and sadness. The mothers’ feelings inhibit their trying to analyze the situation and weigh up pos-
sible alternatives. Disturbed, they become disoriented and confused by a situation so different from
what they had hoped for:
Huiracocha et al. 493

I said ‘My son? No no no that’s not my son. You’re wrong’, I said because the doctor who showed
me . . . no no . . . that can’t be my son . . . [pause] . . . I said you are wrong. I don’t see that a baby like
that is born here

Family adaptations
The birth of a child with an impairment not only brings additional work for a family, but may also
challenge family members’ existing responsibilities and interrelationships.

She changed all of our lives, because my children . . . the process of acceptance was a chaos . . . adjust-
ing to our new responsibilities, new roles . . . it affected all of us. But I can see that things are better
now. They all work with me, help me . . .

Here, it was the women who were burdened with almost all additional caregiving responsibilities:

I took for granted that my husband worked, he has a job . . . all the others are busy . . . in effect it was me
who more or less took on all of the care . . . because he is my son . . .

Questions regarding the roles of different family members rarely elicited any response. There was
little awareness of the functions and roles of individual family members, so that narratives tended
simply to reproduce what we believe to be institutionalized, and typically gendered, social patterns
(although no studies of the distribution of roles and tasks in Ecuadorian families have been pub-
lished). The mother is seen as the spiritual hub of the family, responsible for the care of the children,
for household tasks, and for protecting the family unit against disruption. The children are there to
study and, but only when they have time, to help their mother. The father is there to work, to provide
economic support, but to keep distance from women’s concerns. In the interviews and in the focus
group, mothers scarcely referred to support from their husbands. If anything, it is other people, closer,
who provide emotional support. What is striking is a silence, a distancing, and an apparent pulling
back, on the part of most fathers. They seem to be reproducing stereotypical male behavior patterns
as given by clearly distinct gender roles. They express no feelings and they cry no tears. Seemingly
distant from the care of their sons and daughters, they appear to live outside the household.
Members of the mother’s family (though rarely of the father’s) were willing enough to give
advice, but unwilling to get much involved in the search for ways of coping. As one mother put it

When they learned that I had a child with Down . . . my family still came to visit . . . my eldest brother
came, my sister-in-law, my other brothers . . . they hugged me and said ‘so how are you’.

Almost all the families had difficulties acquiring the extra income to pay for the therapies the
child needed. Specialist institutions often demand payments from prospective parents which are
beyond the family’s means, thus cutting the families off from their services.

We’d have to pay a taxi to go and a taxi to come back, to buy medicines for my daughter, milk . . . sometimes
it wasn’t possible to arrange therapy at the social security and when we had a bit of money we’d pay for
private therapy . . . but we couldn’t always . . . sometimes there just wasn’t the money for it

It was not only money that was in short supply. Just as importantly, there was a lack of time for
relaxation or enjoyment. All these parents suffered huge mood swings, passing constantly from
494 Journal of Child Health Care 21(4)

sadness to happiness and back again, reflecting phases in their struggles to overcome the problems
they faced. The result, in many cases, was a gradual decline both in self-confidence and social par-
ticipation. As one mother explained:

I gave up going to the gym to which I had gone every morning. I stopped visiting my parents . . . I
stopped going out . . . I began to live each day alone with my daughter and I began to focus just on doing
all the practical things I could

Sandra, the 39-year-old mother of a 15-month-old daughter with both DS and cerebral palsy,
described the drawing she’d made in the focus group:

First I’ve drawn a woman crying with her children in her arms . . . then I’ve drawn a woman with her
children, with Sofia and my other two children, and with a fire on top of my head . . . you know. God
will forgive me for putting it there. It looks like the sacred spirit but really, it’s the strength that God
gives me and that I draw on to be able to face life . . .

After the initial shock, the affective processes which follow involve these mothers interpreting
what has happened not only cognitively but also spiritually. Religious beliefs have a complicated
significance in this context. On the one hand, they render mothers vulnerable to the chastisements
of priests, as described earlier. Yet for some mothers in this study, faith served as an important
resource in making sense of their child’s condition. As one mother put it ‘they are now our little
angels sent by God. They have a mission, they accompany us, they are sweet and affectionate’.
In the Ecuadorian context, it is difficult for parents to develop the positive appreciation of the
contribution children with DS can make to family life. Too much stands in the way, not least the
negative attitudes that predominate in this society.

Because they call them little imbeciles (tontitos) . . . because people keep staring at them . . . because
they are made fun of . . . or because people are scared of them . . . Me too, when I saw them I was
scared . . . because I’d never seen anything good in them . . . I’d never seen them as you see them
on internet . . . young people with Down who speak well, work, go to school. Why does God send
children like these? I’ve seen so many people who make fun of them . . . they mock and it drives
me crazy . . . I was capable to going up to them and saying . . . OK why do you laugh? They’re people
just like us, they are children of God

The few positive sentiments expressed in the interviews were provided by people who had inter-
nalized new paradigms of diversity, of inclusion or—in the case of the mother of the 16-year-old
adolescent—had come to understand the capacities of people with DS.

Discussion
It is well established that being given a DS diagnosis in a sensitive manner can give parents hope
and can facilitate their acceptance of the situation. Such has not been the experience of parents in
this study. Previous research has shown that the greater the status difference between doctor and
patient, the poorer the quality of the communication (Peck and Conner, 2011). The high degree of
social stratification in Ecuadorian society expresses itself in the arrogance and lack of empathy
shown by many health professionals in communicating a DS diagnosis. Comparable with what
Vehkakoski (2007) found in Finland, doctors were unable to deal with a situation which they
Huiracocha et al. 495

themselves found stressful. They had not been taught the skills needed for the sensitive commu-
nication of a diagnosis, or for providing care adjusted to the needs of the family, such as family-
centered care (Pickering and Busse, 2010). What happens thereafter depends on the characteristics
both of the individual family and of the society, though few studies have examined these societal
influences. This analysis of the experiences of middle-class Ecuadorian parents finds little evi-
dence for the emergence of the positive sentiments and adaptations identified in some studies in
wealthy ‘Northern’ countries (Schwartz, 2003; Skotko, 2011). Despite growing labor market
participation of women in Ecuador, as elsewhere in Latin America (Garcı́a and de Oliveira, 2011;
ILFAM, 2016; Observatorio de los Derechos de la Niñez y Adolescencia, 2010), little change in
the division of roles in the family seems to have taken place. The birth of a child with DS reinforces
the highly gendered divisions of responsibilities in the household, common in the country, adding
to the stress of already overburdened wives and mothers. In some cases, the result is a disruption of
conjugal relations, leaving a mother to cope alone. Religious faith plays a complex role. On the one
hand, as Pillay et al. found in Australia, religion renders some mothers vulnerable to the chas-
tisements of priests (Pillay et al., 2012). On the other hand, as was also found in Brazil, for some
mothers their faith serves as an important resource in coping (Nobrega and Oliveira, 2005). Finally,
and despite the country’s inclusive policies, children with DS and their families still face stig-
matization and exclusion. These characteristics of the society inhibit development of the qualities
of resilience, the action-orientation, that enable some families to provide their son or daughter with
DS with a decent quality of life.

Limitations of the study

The study was limited by the small and non-representative sample of parents participating. It was a
small-scale study, carried out among a group of middle-class urban parents. In the light of previous
research, and of Ecuador’s extreme stratification, the problems identified are likely to be far
greater among the rural poor. Further research should therefore focus on a larger and more geo-
graphically and socially diverse population.

Implications for practice

Diagnoses of this kind should preferably be given by a familiar and trusted medical professional.
Most importantly, health professionals should be taught how to present a diagnosis in a sensitive
manner, as well as the elements of family-centered care.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship,
and/or publication of this article.

Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this
article.

Note
1. Before entering the centre in which the study took place the latter had been moved from one institution to
another, and had spent the previous six years at home with no specialized attention whatsoever.
496 Journal of Child Health Care 21(4)

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