Twelve years ago tomorrow I led an unsuccessful effort to override President Clinton's veto of the Partial Birth Abortion Ban Act, which banned a late-term abortion procedure that pro-choice forces argued was necessary to terminate pregnancies that had gone awry.

Sen. Dianne Feinstein defined "awry" as "fetuses with severe birth defects . . . fetuses with no eyes, ears, mouths, legs or kidneys."

Because of Sarah Palin's son Trig, who has Down syndrome, America is now aware that more than 90 percent of children with significant birth defects are aborted, often late in pregnancy.

Over the past few months, several personal experiences have led me to ponder how I and our country should see these imperfect children.

Four months ago, Karen and I were blessed with our eighth child, Bella, who three days later was diagnosed with Trisomy 18, a syndrome with a mortality rate of more than 90 percent in the first year. I subsequently discovered that a friend's 12-year-old son, Brendan, who also had Down syndrome, had a reoccurrence of leukemia. Then, two weeks ago, a friend's father performed a heroic act to save the life of his 20-year-old son with Down syndrome. And 12 years ago next week, our family will commemorate the date when we were told that Karen's fourth pregnancy had gone "awry."

I've recalled Condoleezza Rice's remarks at the National Prayer Breakfast: "American slaves used to sing, 'Nobody knows the trouble I've seen - Glory Hallelujah!' Growing up, I would often wonder at the seeming contradiction contained in this line. I believe this same message is found in the Bible in Romans 5, where we are told to 'rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint.' "

Amen.

This May, as our family was trying to come to grips with the news about our newborn baby, our priest told us of visiting our friends' son Brendan at the hospital before his chemotherapy treatment. Brendan didn't want the treatment because he knew it would make him very sick. Father told him he was not alone in his suffering, that another child like him, our daughter, was struggling in intensive care. Brendan said: "I'll do it and give up my suffering for Bella."

At the Republican Convention, I watched little Trig Palin "wave" to the crowd, have his hair spit shined by his big sister Piper, and have an emotional mom pledge solidarity with parents of special kids.

We all glimpsed both the joy and the difficulty of having a disabled child.

Thomas VanderWoude, 66, was working in the yard with his youngest son, Joseph. "Josie" fell though a piece of metal that covered a small opening to their septic tank. VanderWoude jumped into the six-foot deep tank and pushed his unconscious heavier son from below to keep Josie's head above the muck. After some 15 minutes rescue workers pulled them both out. Only Josie survived.

I keep thinking of the Christian narrative of the Savior jumping into the squalor of this world to suffer an ignominious death to lift up and save our defective souls.

And 12 years ago, Karen and I discovered via ultrasound halfway through the pregnancy that our baby had a fatal birth defect. We knew we could not end our suffering by ending his life, so instead of giving him a death sentence, we gave him a name, Gabriel Michael.

Despite the best medical care, he died shortly after his birth. Karen's book, Letters to Gabriel, chronicled her struggle. It turned out that her book and the story of Gabriel's life have saved many lives and comforted many parents.

In a country where some politicians now promise to end suffering, and where our usefulness seems to be measured in dollars, these special individuals stand as complex, mysterious contradictions from a loving God.

They remind us that it is not just our capacity to achieve, but our capacity for sacrificial love that will change the character of America for the good. And that character will inspire true hope - and that hope does not disappoint.

Former U.S. Senator Rick Santorum is a Senior Fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center.