A story about @rogerfederer 🧵 My son was 6 when he fell in love with tennis—and it didn’t take long for him to discover #RogerFederer and fall in love with him too.
My wife going through a miscarriage was an actual “loss”. It was the most difficult season of our lives. It was beyond devastating.
Being by my wife’s side as she went through that process was excruciating. It was horrific really. So many sleepless nights where you don’t know what to say, how to regulate emotion, and have no ability to cry more tears because there just aren’t any tears left to shed.
We didn’t choose to kill our child. We legitimately lost it by no fault or intervention of our own. God just decided to bring our twins home to heaven.
Forgive me if I have absolutely no sympathy for a couple that wants the world to feel bad for murdering their child with Down Syndrome as if they went through a miscarriage or a still birth.
My wife & I know what really loss is like. This is a slap in the face to the mothers & fathers that legitimately lost children.
I keep coming back to this post. Inconvenient, difficult, unwell children saved my life. I remember the day I met each of my children. The intention of this post isn’t cruelty. I have made choices in my life that would bring me to my knees with grief if I didn’t know we have such a thing as redemption. Just hear me out. I’m not casting a stone.
My youngest was having a baby meltdown. She was in severe distress. I remember finding a chair and just letting her wail on my chest. Inconsolable. So I sat with her in her inconsolable moment. There for damn sure wasn’t fixing it. At least not then. I will spare the details for her privacy, but killing her in the womb would have felt merciful to the people who imagine death for unborn children could be a mercy.
So she wailed. I rocked. I explained the situation to her. So listen this is a bullshit situation we find ourselves in. You’re in foster care. This is confusing. I don’t smell right to you. My heartbeat is unfamiliar. My voice is unrecognizable. You also feel like dog shit. Like proper bad. I’ve got you. I’m going to just be right here. So she lived. We lived. We navigated that particular stormy sea as we have all the others.
My son was so sick when he came to me I had to put him in a warm bath to remove the clothes adhered to his wounds. This isn’t hyperbole. He wasn’t speaking. Hell I wouldn’t have talked to people anymore either. I’m like boo I would keep my mouth shut too. You don’t know me I might be plum crazy. Let’s go to Denny’s and get waffles and think about this relationship.
There are four more. All different in their own ways. My reactively attached kid. My kid we sent to rehab. Listen none of it is a nicely wrapped package like a hallmark movie. I didn’t snap my fingers and things were just cool. Hell things still aren’t cool. My kids have court dates. They make messy decisions. So do I. We fight. Sometimes we have to repeat classes because we can’t get our shit together and math is hard.
But see the promise isn’t easy. You get the road to travel. It’s proper hard. But my blessings come with actually participating. In showing up. I’ll go to court with you, babe. Want to get coffee on the way I’m thirsty. I mean maybe he had it coming.
Our children are not going to be perfect regardless of their genetics. Your sweet angel will meet the wrong man and develop a pill problem. Your healthy child will get a rare disease and need around the clock care.
All we can do is show up. Allow each unique human life to unfold. Participate in the absolute wonder of it all.
If you should so happen to try again, and that child has Down syndrome, consider this an opportunity for grace. This season will be hard. Your critics will inform you of their feelings. Reflect. Allow some to love you and allow others to speak truth to you. It will be a lifelong grief. But that’s the road you’re now on.
Be well.
This week, my wife and I made the very difficult decision to terminate the pregnancy due to Trisomy 21.
The choice was not made lightly. We really appreciate all of the personal stories that you guys shared with us, especially the unconditional support we received from fans with no matter what we decided.
I know some of you may be very disappointed to hear this news. We are devastated. This has been extremely traumatic for both of us, especially Ashley.
She underwent the procedure earlier this week and is on the mend. Thankfully, everything went smoothly, but emotionally we are drained.
Trisomy 21, also known as Down Syndrome, is caused by an extra chromosome. It is caused by an error in cell division, like a glitch. The odds of a baby having it is 1 in 1000.
When I first confronted this news, I was shocked but optimistic. If they’re a little slow intellectually, then we’ll make it work. I signed on to be a parent, come what may…but I just didn’t fully understand what Down Syndrome entailed.
Once we made it public, it became clear that MOST people don’t know what Down Syndrome entails (and no, it’s not the same as Autism):
50% of babies with DS have heart defects. 75% will have hearing challenges. Over 50% will have vision problems. Impaired immune function, developmental disabilities, learning disabilities, delayed physical development, poor muscle tone, structural issues with face, decreased lifespan, etc…Sadly, the list is long, feel free to look it up…Down Syndome isn’t a “blessing”, it is objectively shitty from a health perspective.
I didn’t realize just how rough it is for the child, let alone the family…more often than not, they would be fully dependent on others for the rest of their life.
The miscarriage risk is also close to 50%, which made matters worse…they may never see the light of day and it puts Ashley further at risk.
We spoke with doctors, friends, family and genetic counselors and learned that up to 90% of women terminate their pregnancy after learning the baby has Trisomy 21.
This was WAY higher than I expected, I thought it would be lower given that I hear so many say they kept or would keep the baby. I believe that’s because most terminations happen privately, it feels shameful. A lot of judgment being cast.
You never think you’d be in this type of situation until it happens to you and then things change.
To all of my fans who have weighed in on this topic who have Autism, Down Syndrome or any other conditions…we appreciate you. You matter a lot and we’re glad you’re here. I commend you and your families for having the strength and courage to push forward.
As for us, we made a difficult decision that we believe in the long-run will be beneficial for our family. Thankfully, we had a choice.
It will take a little time to move on, but we are excited to try again in the future and hopefully have a better outcome.
Love you guys & thank you for understanding. ❤️
@BenSasse@EWErickson .@BenSasse We have 4 kids in a private Christian K-12 and are currently fighting for 15yo son to be allowed (!!) to take a more challenging math track, as rec’d by his math teacher. He’s smart but bored. America can’t continue to be exceptional with this mentality…so now what?
Something about USA hockey makes me feel the most patriotic I have ever felt every time they have to play
Must crush the Sweeds.
Must assert dominance.
Can’t stop saying “I WANT YOU TO BE A HOCKEY PLAYER”
In December 2025, former US Senator @BenSasse announced that he had been diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. That's the primary topic for this @UncKnowledge conversation about mortality, faith, and what truly matters when time is short.
Talking to host @P_M_Robinson, Sasse reflects on "redeeming the time"—holding ambition lightly, loving family more deliberately, and resisting the urge to make politics or professional success the center of life.
The discussion also covers Sasse's thoughts on the failures of Congress; the dangers of a fragmented, attention-starved republic; the crisis of higher education; and the moral challenges of technological abundance.
He speaks candidly and movingly about regret, forgiveness, prayer, and suffering—arguing that while death is a real enemy, it does not get the final word. Watch the full conversation on X:
Friends-
This is a tough note to write, but since a bunch of you have started to suspect something, I’ll cut to the chase: Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die.
Advanced pancreatic is nasty stuff; it’s a death sentence. But I already had a death sentence before last week too — we all do.
I’m blessed with amazing siblings and half-a-dozen buddies that are genuinely brothers. As one of them put it, “Sure, you’re on the clock, but we’re all on the clock.” Death is a wicked thief, and the bastard pursues us all.
Still, I’ve got less time than I’d prefer. This is hard for someone wired to work and build, but harder still as a husband and a dad. I can’t begin to describe how great my people are. During the past year, as we’d temporarily stepped back from public life and built new family rhythms, Melissa and I have grown even closer — and that on top of three decades of the best friend a man could ever have. Seven months ago, Corrie was commissioned into the Air Force and she’s off at instrument and multi-engine rounds of flight school. Last week, Alex kicked butt graduating from college a semester early even while teaching gen chem, organic, and physics (she’s a freak). This summer, 14-year-old Breck started learning to drive. (Okay, we’ve been driving off-book for six years — but now we’ve got paper to make it street-legal.) I couldn’t be more grateful to constantly get to bear-hug this motley crew of sinners and saints.
There’s not a good time to tell your peeps you’re now marching to the beat of a faster drummer — but the season of advent isn’t the worst. As a Christian, the weeks running up to Christmas are a time to orient our hearts toward the hope of what’s to come.
Not an abstract hope in fanciful human goodness; not hope in vague hallmark-sappy spirituality; not a bootstrapped hope in our own strength (what foolishness is the evaporating-muscle I once prided myself in). Nope — often we lazily say “hope” when what we mean is “optimism.” To be clear, optimism is great, and it’s absolutely necessary, but it’s insufficient. It’s not the kinda thing that holds up when you tell your daughters you’re not going to walk them down the aisle. Nor telling your mom and pops they’re gonna bury their son.
A well-lived life demands more reality — stiffer stuff. That’s why, during advent, even while still walking in darkness, we shout our hope — often properly with a gravelly voice soldiering through tears.
Such is the calling of the pilgrim. Those who know ourselves to need a Physician should dang well look forward to enduring beauty and eventual fulfillment. That is, we hope in a real Deliverer — a rescuing God, born at a real time, in a real place. But the eternal city — with foundations and without cancer — is not yet.
Remembering Isaiah’s prophecies of what’s to come doesn’t dull the pain of current sufferings. But it does put it in eternity’s perspective:
“When we've been there 10,000 years…We've no less days to sing God's praise.”
I’ll have more to say. I’m not going down without a fight. One sub-part of God’s grace is found in the jawdropping advances science has made the past few years in immunotherapy and more. Death and dying aren’t the same — the process of dying is still something to be lived. We’re zealously embracing a lot of gallows humor in our house, and I’ve pledged to do my part to run through the irreverent tape.
But for now, as our family faces the reality of treatments, but more importantly as we celebrate Christmas, we wish you peace: “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned….For to us a son is given” (Isaiah 9).
With great gratitude, and with gravelly-but-hopeful voices,
Ben — and the Sasses
How many times has the straight-up, powerful, simple Gospel been shared today? Marco lovely, as usual. “Because He carried that cross, we were free from the sin that separated us from Him!”