These are not mere rhetorical questions. Already women shop sperm banks for idealized traits, from blond curls to blue eyes, the way we now design dream cars online. In such a commodified world, where hope is replaced by expectation, can disappointment and rejection be far behind?

The list of accomplished people with birth defects, meanwhile, is long. Two born with clubfeet are Kristi Yamaguchi, the 1992 Olympic champion figure skater, and U.S. Rep. Thaddeus Stevens (1792-1868), who helped draft the 14th Amendment and the Reconstruction Act.

Imagine what our cultural conversation would have been without Soren Kierkegaard, the Danish existentialist philosopher - a hunchback with uneven legs. Or Juan Ruiz de Alarcon, the 17th century Mexican dramatist, who also was a hunchback and wrote some 20 dramas including "La Verdad Sospechosa."

Translated, "The Suspicious Truth" is an apt title for the argument that reproductive choice always trumps all other considerations, or that any and all birth defects conscribe a child to a life not worth living.

Obviously, no one wishes anything but perfect children for all mothers and fathers. Ask expectant parents what they want, meaning a boy or a girl, and they'll usually answer "ten fingers and ten toes." By which most mean they'll love whatever they get.

And most do. Even so, the slippery slope isn't a cliche for nothing. As we learn of these incremental forays into prenatal selectivity, we might pause to consider where such thinking leads.

If we don't want to grant life to those afflicted with small deformities, where do we set the bar for "good enough"? More important, perhaps, what is the cost to our humanity - not to mention the poet's soul - when the imperfect have no place among the living?