Science struggles with the question of a life worth living. The philosopher Barbara Schmitz found an answer – in her own family history.
Barbara Smith
In the summer of 1999 my daughter Carlotta was born. Since the birth was a Caesarean section and took place six weeks before the due date, I didn’t see my child until a day later in the intensive care unit. When the nurse took off the tiny mittens that Carlotta wore to keep her cords intact, what I had been told about but could hardly believe was revealed: my daughter had twelve fingers.