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Perfectly Human: Nine Months with Cerian
She knew they would only have a few fleeting months together, but in that time Sarah's unborn daughter would transform her understanding of beauty, worth, and the gift of life.
Happily married and teaching history at the University of Oxford, Sarah Williams had credentials, success, and knowledge. It took someone who would never have any of these things to teach her what it means to be human.
This extraordinary true story begins with the welcome news of a new member of the Williams family. Sarah's husband, Paul, and their two young daughters share her excitement. But the happiness is short-lived, as a hospital scan reveals a lethal skeletal dysplasia. Birth will be fatal.
Sarah and Paul decide to carry the baby to term, a decision that shocks medical staff and Sarah's professional colleagues. Sarah and Paul find themselves having to defend their child's dignity and worth against incomprehension and at times open hostility. They name their daughter, Cerian, Welsh for "loved one." Sarah writes, "Cerian is not a strong religious principle or a rule that compels me to make hard and fast ethical decisions. She is a beautiful person who is teaching me to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely, and face fear with dignity and hope."
In this candid and vulnerable account, Sarah brings the reader along with her on the journey towards Cerian's birthday and her deathday. It's rare enough to find a writer who can share such a heart-stretching personal experience without sounding sappy, but here is one who at the same time has the ability to articulate the broader cultural issues raised by Cerian's story. In a society striving for perfection, where worth is earned, identity is constructed, children are a choice, normal is beautiful, and deformity is repulsive, Cerian's short life raises vital questions about what we value and where we are headed as a culture.
Perfectly Human was first published in the United Kingdom as The Shaming of the Strong. This edition includes a new afterword by the author.
Happily married and teaching history at the University of Oxford, Sarah Williams had credentials, success, and knowledge. It took someone who would never have any of these things to teach her what it means to be human.
This extraordinary true story begins with the welcome news of a new member of the Williams family. Sarah's husband, Paul, and their two young daughters share her excitement. But the happiness is short-lived, as a hospital scan reveals a lethal skeletal dysplasia. Birth will be fatal.
Sarah and Paul decide to carry the baby to term, a decision that shocks medical staff and Sarah's professional colleagues. Sarah and Paul find themselves having to defend their child's dignity and worth against incomprehension and at times open hostility. They name their daughter, Cerian, Welsh for "loved one." Sarah writes, "Cerian is not a strong religious principle or a rule that compels me to make hard and fast ethical decisions. She is a beautiful person who is teaching me to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely, and face fear with dignity and hope."
In this candid and vulnerable account, Sarah brings the reader along with her on the journey towards Cerian's birthday and her deathday. It's rare enough to find a writer who can share such a heart-stretching personal experience without sounding sappy, but here is one who at the same time has the ability to articulate the broader cultural issues raised by Cerian's story. In a society striving for perfection, where worth is earned, identity is constructed, children are a choice, normal is beautiful, and deformity is repulsive, Cerian's short life raises vital questions about what we value and where we are headed as a culture.
Perfectly Human was first published in the United Kingdom as The Shaming of the Strong. This edition includes a new afterword by the author.
180 pages, Paperback
First published August 30, 2005
21 people are currently reading
954 people want to read
About the author
Sarah C. Williams
7 books15 followersSarah C. Williams trained as a historian at the University of Oxford, where she subsequently taught British and European political and cultural history. After seventeen years at Oxford, in 2005 she moved with her family to Vancouver, Canada, where she taught history at Regent College.
Today Williams lives with her husband Paul in the Cotswolds, close to the city of Oxford, where she continues her research, writing, and teaching. The daughter of popular British author Jennifer Rees Larcombe, Williams is the author of Perfectly Human, a spiritual autobiography in which she reflects on contemporary debates surrounding identity and personhood.
Today Williams lives with her husband Paul in the Cotswolds, close to the city of Oxford, where she continues her research, writing, and teaching. The daughter of popular British author Jennifer Rees Larcombe, Williams is the author of Perfectly Human, a spiritual autobiography in which she reflects on contemporary debates surrounding identity and personhood.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 83 reviews
September 26, 2017
I read this book shortly after losing my own daughter to the same skeletal deformation that Sarah lost hers to. This book helped me cope with my grief, and articulate my feelings at the time. I would recommend it to everyone, especially those who have been touched by this type of heart break.
Thank you Sarah for this incredible gift.
Thank you Sarah for this incredible gift.
August 19, 2025
The mistake wasn’t reading this book; the mistake was reading it on the bus, because my oh my, how often my eyes welled up. What a tender and grace-filled meditation on God, personhood, dignity, suffering, and the bonds of love and compassion we can offer one another.
January 15, 2019
Summary: A personal narrative of a couple facing a pre-natal diagnosis of fatal birth defects, their decision to carry their daughter to term, their process with family and friends, and the larger issues their own decision raised for them.
Sarah Williams had struggled through a horrendous pregnancy of nausea, even as her children anticipated a younger sibling. A routine, twenty-week pre-natal screening turns suddenly serious. A specialist diagnoses thanatophoric dysplasia, a skeletal deformity resulting in a chest that is too small to sustain proper lung development, and a baby unable to breathe upon birth. The expectation of the medical professionals is that they would terminate the pregnancy, and this is Sarah, and her husband Paul's, first instinct as well. Except that she felt God speak to her that May evening: "Here is a sick and dying child. Will you love this child for me?" Subsequently she reflects: "...it became less a question of my loving the baby as me watching God love and then following him in his love.
Close friends and their pastor rally around them. Others respond less helpfully, from insistent faith that God would cure the defects to criticism from academic colleagues for even thinking of carrying such a "sub-optimal" life to term. We also see things from Paul's perspective, and how men are often closed out of this process, when they also love and grieve their child.
Most touching are the ways they deal with this as a family. They talk honestly with the children, who each respond in different ways as they love and grieve their baby sister. The family names her Cerian, a Welsh name that means "loved." One of the children records her heartbeat. The family goes camping, and then stays with Sarah's mother Wren, who provides a place of spiritual retreat as Sarah approaches delivery, complicated by hydramnios, a buildup of amniotic fluid because the baby is not swallowing enough.
The narrative of her induced birth is powerful. Sarah had nearly died as the baby pressed against a major blood vessel. The time has come to let go of the baby but she fights against her body until she "sees" a horse and rider, who she understands to be Jesus, come for her baby.
She deals with the rawness of her grief and that of her family. No effort is made to spiritualize it but we see grieving people helping each other to figure out how to remember Cerian, and to learn from the love they were called into. Sarah writes:
"During the nine months I carried Cerian, God had come close to me again unexpectedly, wild and beautiful, good and gracious. I touched his presence as I carried Cerian, and as a result I realized that underneath all my other longings lay an aching desire for God himself and for his love. Cerian shamed my strength and in her weakness she showed me a way of intimacy."
The book is pro-life without pitting mothers against babies, without judging or advocating. The author acknowledges that others facing the same situation might choose differently and she refuses to judge those choices. An epilogue does wrestle with these issues, more with questions about the choices we have taken upon ourselves because of our technology that suggest that our humanness, and sometimes that of others, reflects our own self-definitions and self-creations. Cerian showed her a different way:
"Limitations, finitude, suffering, weakness, disability, and frailty can be gifts. Far from robbing us of our humanity, without a place for these things we are less than human. Ultimately, personhood is not a work of self-definition and self-creation. Instead, it is a gift."
This is a work of exquisite, intimate, and aching beauty that also raises profound questions without becoming preachy or censorious. It also reflects the power of a community of family and friends. The inclusion of Paul and his own struggles and growth in the process reminds us that pregnancy is also about men, not imposing their will upon a woman, but through conception, stepping into the joys, the griefs, and the sacrificial love of being a husband and father. Paul rails against the ways he is institutionally excluded, and chooses not to remain aloof but as deeply involved as a man can be in these things, allowing both love and loss to touch his own heart. Williams shows care with words, using them well to articulate self-understanding and insight. To read this narrative is alternately to wonder and to weep, in our own longings for we know not what, at the perfectly human gift of Cerian.
___________________________
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.
Sarah Williams had struggled through a horrendous pregnancy of nausea, even as her children anticipated a younger sibling. A routine, twenty-week pre-natal screening turns suddenly serious. A specialist diagnoses thanatophoric dysplasia, a skeletal deformity resulting in a chest that is too small to sustain proper lung development, and a baby unable to breathe upon birth. The expectation of the medical professionals is that they would terminate the pregnancy, and this is Sarah, and her husband Paul's, first instinct as well. Except that she felt God speak to her that May evening: "Here is a sick and dying child. Will you love this child for me?" Subsequently she reflects: "...it became less a question of my loving the baby as me watching God love and then following him in his love.
Close friends and their pastor rally around them. Others respond less helpfully, from insistent faith that God would cure the defects to criticism from academic colleagues for even thinking of carrying such a "sub-optimal" life to term. We also see things from Paul's perspective, and how men are often closed out of this process, when they also love and grieve their child.
Most touching are the ways they deal with this as a family. They talk honestly with the children, who each respond in different ways as they love and grieve their baby sister. The family names her Cerian, a Welsh name that means "loved." One of the children records her heartbeat. The family goes camping, and then stays with Sarah's mother Wren, who provides a place of spiritual retreat as Sarah approaches delivery, complicated by hydramnios, a buildup of amniotic fluid because the baby is not swallowing enough.
The narrative of her induced birth is powerful. Sarah had nearly died as the baby pressed against a major blood vessel. The time has come to let go of the baby but she fights against her body until she "sees" a horse and rider, who she understands to be Jesus, come for her baby.
She deals with the rawness of her grief and that of her family. No effort is made to spiritualize it but we see grieving people helping each other to figure out how to remember Cerian, and to learn from the love they were called into. Sarah writes:
"During the nine months I carried Cerian, God had come close to me again unexpectedly, wild and beautiful, good and gracious. I touched his presence as I carried Cerian, and as a result I realized that underneath all my other longings lay an aching desire for God himself and for his love. Cerian shamed my strength and in her weakness she showed me a way of intimacy."
The book is pro-life without pitting mothers against babies, without judging or advocating. The author acknowledges that others facing the same situation might choose differently and she refuses to judge those choices. An epilogue does wrestle with these issues, more with questions about the choices we have taken upon ourselves because of our technology that suggest that our humanness, and sometimes that of others, reflects our own self-definitions and self-creations. Cerian showed her a different way:
"Limitations, finitude, suffering, weakness, disability, and frailty can be gifts. Far from robbing us of our humanity, without a place for these things we are less than human. Ultimately, personhood is not a work of self-definition and self-creation. Instead, it is a gift."
This is a work of exquisite, intimate, and aching beauty that also raises profound questions without becoming preachy or censorious. It also reflects the power of a community of family and friends. The inclusion of Paul and his own struggles and growth in the process reminds us that pregnancy is also about men, not imposing their will upon a woman, but through conception, stepping into the joys, the griefs, and the sacrificial love of being a husband and father. Paul rails against the ways he is institutionally excluded, and chooses not to remain aloof but as deeply involved as a man can be in these things, allowing both love and loss to touch his own heart. Williams shows care with words, using them well to articulate self-understanding and insight. To read this narrative is alternately to wonder and to weep, in our own longings for we know not what, at the perfectly human gift of Cerian.
___________________________
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.
February 12, 2025
Highly recommend this book!! Heartbreaking and beautiful. Shows the truth about the value of life as we are created in Gods image and the worthy act of obedience in choosing life versus destruction while helping me to be more compassionate for those experiencing difficult pregnancies.
February 3, 2019
I am consistently guilty of making all sorts of assumptions about people which (thankfully!) end up being almost entirely wrong. I have found the best remedy to my preconceived errors to be listening to a person’s story. "Perfectly Human: Nine Months with Cerian" by Sarah Williams has proved no exception.
Two years ago I had the great pleasure of taking a course taught by Sarah Williams, and to this day I maintain that she is certainly one of, if not, the best teachers I have ever had. A brilliant mind, three academic degrees from Oxford, emotional sensitivity, as well as a lifelong commitment to pedagogy has made Sarah into a major force in the classroom. Her lectures are high-powered, captivating, and deeply profound. Witnessing this, I am tempted to assume that Sarah has it all together, and that things have always been this way.
In "Perfectly Human," Sarah chooses to share a time in her life when both she, and her daughter Cerian were particularly vulnerable. Sarah offers the reader a privileged, insider’s look into her decision to carry her baby Cerian to term, despite a fatal condition with no change of survival.
The book’s message is nicely summed up in Sarah’s response to a female doctor during a hospital trip: “Cerian is not a strong religious principle or a rule that compels me to make hard and fast ethical decisions. She is a beautiful person who is teaching me to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely, and face fear with dignity and hope (pg. 80). The book is incredibly intimate and raw, and serves as a reminder to value the personhood of those around us - particularly the vulnerable.
Two years ago I had the great pleasure of taking a course taught by Sarah Williams, and to this day I maintain that she is certainly one of, if not, the best teachers I have ever had. A brilliant mind, three academic degrees from Oxford, emotional sensitivity, as well as a lifelong commitment to pedagogy has made Sarah into a major force in the classroom. Her lectures are high-powered, captivating, and deeply profound. Witnessing this, I am tempted to assume that Sarah has it all together, and that things have always been this way.
In "Perfectly Human," Sarah chooses to share a time in her life when both she, and her daughter Cerian were particularly vulnerable. Sarah offers the reader a privileged, insider’s look into her decision to carry her baby Cerian to term, despite a fatal condition with no change of survival.
The book’s message is nicely summed up in Sarah’s response to a female doctor during a hospital trip: “Cerian is not a strong religious principle or a rule that compels me to make hard and fast ethical decisions. She is a beautiful person who is teaching me to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely, and face fear with dignity and hope (pg. 80). The book is incredibly intimate and raw, and serves as a reminder to value the personhood of those around us - particularly the vulnerable.
February 5, 2019
What a gorgeously written memoir of the struggles of a Christian family who walked through 9 months of a hard pregnancy with a child with a fatal genetic abnormality teaching us all God’s definition of humanity. This is an account of how to find God in the pain and not in the avoidance of it.
I wept often reading this book not only for the hurt and pain described by this mother who lost her baby but also in remembrance of losing our own baby girl at 20 weeks. It was precious to read words that reminded me of how each human (whether they live a full life or pass in the womb) is made in God’s image and therefore worthy of celebration and love.
My favorites from the book:
Chapter 3
P. 20
Psalm 63:7-8
Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. I cling to you; your right hand upholds me.
“I underlined the words sing and cling, writing the date in the margin. This is how I would get through the seemingly impossible challenge of the rest of the pregnancy. God would be my help.”
Chapter 6
P. 34 In talking about the 2 paths before her of Healing and God Himself, “I do not want to spend the precious time I have with the baby searching for healing. I want to spend it seeking God and loving the baby as she is. Paul and I trust that we will find God in the pain, not in the avoidance of it.”
Chapter 7
P. 43 quote from Juergen Moltmann, “In reality there is no such thing as a non-handicapped life; only the ideal of health set up by society and the capable condemns a certain group of people to be called handicapped. Our society arbitrarily defines health as the capacity for work and a capacity for enjoyment, but true health is something quite different. True health is the strength to live, the strength to suffer, the strength to die. Health is not a condition of my body; it is the power of my soul to cope with the varying conditions of the body.”
P. 45 “If the role I hand to play [as mother] was to help her live to the full while her short life lasted, and to prepare her for heaven, then for her sake I needed to remain in an intimate place of prayer.”
P. 46 This entire page describes how our perspective on death changes when we realize that God himself watched his only Son come to earth and prepare to die. (Isaiah 53:2) “God was not asking me to do anything he had not already done himself. ... Death would change the way I could share love with my child but it would not take away the love itself. When I saw this, I was no longer afraid to love her and I began to rest with the baby day after day in this interwoven place of love. And I wished I had seen all my relationships like this before, especially when I’d been bereaved in the past. From this perspective death really is more transient than love.”
Chapter 12
P. 73 is a beautiful picture of how God became clear through Psalm 22 during the induction process and subsequent death of Cerian.
P. 80 “Courage is not the absence of fear and despair; it is the capacity to move forward confidently trusting the maker of the heavens to cover us with the shadow of his mighty hand even if the sky should fall.”
Chapter 16
P. 95 “The thin line between the spiritual and the material dimensions of reality blur at moments of birth, of death, and of intercession. At these moments we are afforded a glimpse of just how thin this line really is.”
Chapter 17
P. 102 “You’re only doing what every parent has to do. We have to let Cerian go and give her back to God. ... That’s the goal of parent hood: releasing them to God. They are his anyway; we are merely guardians.”
Chapter 21
P. 116 Psalm 71:20-21 comfort her out of the death anxiety.
Chapter 22
P. 125 This page recounts the words the author spoke at Cerian’s funeral and beautifully sum up the lessons on humanity learned through this ordeal. “There was nothing you had to do to earn my love. I didn’t require anything from you before I loved you. I loved you simply because you were mine. Your worth was written in to your being from the very first moment of your existence. The value of your person was not measured by your usefulness, nor was your identity composed of hard-won achievements, or the gleanings of experience. Thank you for helping me hear an echo of God’s eternal love.”
Chapter 24
P. 135 I really resonated with her description of grief being ongoing isolation—“a long and lonely journey.”
P. 138 A quote from her friend Heather, “To bear the image of God is to be loved by a relational God who in love created us as relational beings. Even though the image of God is marred in all of us as a result of sin, our intrinsic worth as human creatures resides not in our qualities, characters, or achievements, nor in our physical bodies or mental capacities, but in the eternal character of God. We treat one another with divinity because of the intrinsic worth of every person as a relational being loved by God.”
P. 139 “Being fully human involves a reorientation of our wills and our desires toward God himself. He is at the center of our existence, not us. At times this reorientation of the person toward God may feel like a loss of self, when it is in fact quite the opposite. We receive our identity from him as a gift.”
P. 141 “Everyone hurts. At some stage all of us find that life does not deliver what we expected. ... But true human freedom comes from the limitless love of God, in which ‘we live and move and have our being.’ God lavished his love on us in the person of Jesus Christ. It was his choice to lay aside his freedom and to limit himself for us which enables us to enjoy God’s love forever. Nothing—not even death can limit this love. Our choices may be limited but our freedom is not.”
Chapter 25
P. 143”The strange thing is, bereavement enhances our capacity for life. Not only does the fleeting nature of existence force a recognition of mortality and thus the imperative of making the most of every opportunity to love and receive love, but it also makes us cherish one another more and recognize the value of good gifts.”
Epilogue
P. 153-155 addresses pre-natal screening and the deep questions this brings up in truly addressing the humanity of the unborn child.
P. 157 “Our society tells us that our choices are unlimited, that choice is the means to human flourishing, that to have one’s choice impaired is to be dehumanized. As a society we try to deal with suffering by controlling it, mastering it and seeking to eliminate it. If we fail in this endeavor, then at least we hide it, we silence the mention of it, we insure heavily against it, we insulate ourselves from it, we resolved to ignore it. We mask the reality of death.”
P. 159 “Ultimately, personhood is not a work of self-definition and self-creation. Instead it is a gift. ... He makes the promise of freedom without limitation hollow, love without cost meaningless.”
P. 160 “As a results of this extraordinary love we are able to in our human limitation to point beyond ourselves to a God who is with us, and will never leave us. We are given the strength to set aside our own preferences and preoccupations fo the sake of others. Our need of one another can teach us what it means to belong. Our suffering can enable us to recognize joy. Loss and grief, imperfection and brokenness can help us accept that we are each perfectly human — nothing more and nothing less.”
I wept often reading this book not only for the hurt and pain described by this mother who lost her baby but also in remembrance of losing our own baby girl at 20 weeks. It was precious to read words that reminded me of how each human (whether they live a full life or pass in the womb) is made in God’s image and therefore worthy of celebration and love.
My favorites from the book:
Chapter 3
P. 20
Psalm 63:7-8
Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. I cling to you; your right hand upholds me.
“I underlined the words sing and cling, writing the date in the margin. This is how I would get through the seemingly impossible challenge of the rest of the pregnancy. God would be my help.”
Chapter 6
P. 34 In talking about the 2 paths before her of Healing and God Himself, “I do not want to spend the precious time I have with the baby searching for healing. I want to spend it seeking God and loving the baby as she is. Paul and I trust that we will find God in the pain, not in the avoidance of it.”
Chapter 7
P. 43 quote from Juergen Moltmann, “In reality there is no such thing as a non-handicapped life; only the ideal of health set up by society and the capable condemns a certain group of people to be called handicapped. Our society arbitrarily defines health as the capacity for work and a capacity for enjoyment, but true health is something quite different. True health is the strength to live, the strength to suffer, the strength to die. Health is not a condition of my body; it is the power of my soul to cope with the varying conditions of the body.”
P. 45 “If the role I hand to play [as mother] was to help her live to the full while her short life lasted, and to prepare her for heaven, then for her sake I needed to remain in an intimate place of prayer.”
P. 46 This entire page describes how our perspective on death changes when we realize that God himself watched his only Son come to earth and prepare to die. (Isaiah 53:2) “God was not asking me to do anything he had not already done himself. ... Death would change the way I could share love with my child but it would not take away the love itself. When I saw this, I was no longer afraid to love her and I began to rest with the baby day after day in this interwoven place of love. And I wished I had seen all my relationships like this before, especially when I’d been bereaved in the past. From this perspective death really is more transient than love.”
Chapter 12
P. 73 is a beautiful picture of how God became clear through Psalm 22 during the induction process and subsequent death of Cerian.
P. 80 “Courage is not the absence of fear and despair; it is the capacity to move forward confidently trusting the maker of the heavens to cover us with the shadow of his mighty hand even if the sky should fall.”
Chapter 16
P. 95 “The thin line between the spiritual and the material dimensions of reality blur at moments of birth, of death, and of intercession. At these moments we are afforded a glimpse of just how thin this line really is.”
Chapter 17
P. 102 “You’re only doing what every parent has to do. We have to let Cerian go and give her back to God. ... That’s the goal of parent hood: releasing them to God. They are his anyway; we are merely guardians.”
Chapter 21
P. 116 Psalm 71:20-21 comfort her out of the death anxiety.
Chapter 22
P. 125 This page recounts the words the author spoke at Cerian’s funeral and beautifully sum up the lessons on humanity learned through this ordeal. “There was nothing you had to do to earn my love. I didn’t require anything from you before I loved you. I loved you simply because you were mine. Your worth was written in to your being from the very first moment of your existence. The value of your person was not measured by your usefulness, nor was your identity composed of hard-won achievements, or the gleanings of experience. Thank you for helping me hear an echo of God’s eternal love.”
Chapter 24
P. 135 I really resonated with her description of grief being ongoing isolation—“a long and lonely journey.”
P. 138 A quote from her friend Heather, “To bear the image of God is to be loved by a relational God who in love created us as relational beings. Even though the image of God is marred in all of us as a result of sin, our intrinsic worth as human creatures resides not in our qualities, characters, or achievements, nor in our physical bodies or mental capacities, but in the eternal character of God. We treat one another with divinity because of the intrinsic worth of every person as a relational being loved by God.”
P. 139 “Being fully human involves a reorientation of our wills and our desires toward God himself. He is at the center of our existence, not us. At times this reorientation of the person toward God may feel like a loss of self, when it is in fact quite the opposite. We receive our identity from him as a gift.”
P. 141 “Everyone hurts. At some stage all of us find that life does not deliver what we expected. ... But true human freedom comes from the limitless love of God, in which ‘we live and move and have our being.’ God lavished his love on us in the person of Jesus Christ. It was his choice to lay aside his freedom and to limit himself for us which enables us to enjoy God’s love forever. Nothing—not even death can limit this love. Our choices may be limited but our freedom is not.”
Chapter 25
P. 143”The strange thing is, bereavement enhances our capacity for life. Not only does the fleeting nature of existence force a recognition of mortality and thus the imperative of making the most of every opportunity to love and receive love, but it also makes us cherish one another more and recognize the value of good gifts.”
Epilogue
P. 153-155 addresses pre-natal screening and the deep questions this brings up in truly addressing the humanity of the unborn child.
P. 157 “Our society tells us that our choices are unlimited, that choice is the means to human flourishing, that to have one’s choice impaired is to be dehumanized. As a society we try to deal with suffering by controlling it, mastering it and seeking to eliminate it. If we fail in this endeavor, then at least we hide it, we silence the mention of it, we insure heavily against it, we insulate ourselves from it, we resolved to ignore it. We mask the reality of death.”
P. 159 “Ultimately, personhood is not a work of self-definition and self-creation. Instead it is a gift. ... He makes the promise of freedom without limitation hollow, love without cost meaningless.”
P. 160 “As a results of this extraordinary love we are able to in our human limitation to point beyond ourselves to a God who is with us, and will never leave us. We are given the strength to set aside our own preferences and preoccupations fo the sake of others. Our need of one another can teach us what it means to belong. Our suffering can enable us to recognize joy. Loss and grief, imperfection and brokenness can help us accept that we are each perfectly human — nothing more and nothing less.”
January 22, 2021
"Cerian is not a strong religious principle or a rule that compels me to make hard and fast ethical decisions. She is a beautiful person who is teaching me to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely, and face fear with dignity and hope."
This line from Perfectly Human by Sarah C. Williams beautifully captures the essence of the book. It powerfully shifts the conversation about theoretical moral and bioethical debates into a heart-wrenching, beautiful, human story of the author and her family. Though I don't think I've ever cried while reading before, I wet the pages of my paperback copy nearly every time I cracked it open. Through her vulnerable testimony of transformation, Williams challenges the way we as a society define personhood, strength and intrinsic worth. Next to the Bible, no book has helped me more in my own grieving process.
This line from Perfectly Human by Sarah C. Williams beautifully captures the essence of the book. It powerfully shifts the conversation about theoretical moral and bioethical debates into a heart-wrenching, beautiful, human story of the author and her family. Though I don't think I've ever cried while reading before, I wet the pages of my paperback copy nearly every time I cracked it open. Through her vulnerable testimony of transformation, Williams challenges the way we as a society define personhood, strength and intrinsic worth. Next to the Bible, no book has helped me more in my own grieving process.
July 25, 2025
If you want to think deeply about personhood, about the dark waters around whose life trumps whose and who decides and for whom, I cannot think of a better starting point.
In telling her daughter’s story, Williams offers both poignant memoir and thoughtful scholarship. Underpinning both is a deep faith that makes room for agony and hope, crushing grief and the possibility of joy.
“I did not want a deformed baby and I certainly did not want a dead one. God began to challenge me: What if his definition of life and health was different from mine? What if this baby’s destiny was simply to be with him forever? … What if my role as a mother was to cooperate with God’s dreams for my child even if they did not fit with mine?”
There are no rose-colored glasses to put on, no platitudes, easy answers or unscarred relationships.
Williams recalls a specialist appointment where her husband kept asking unbearable questions about what was ahead. She wanted him to stop, but he couldn’t. “Let me love our daughter my way. This is my way of loving her – making sure that we have explored and thought through every option.”
She tells the truth when it’s ugly. And she tells the truth of how God intervened, breaking over and over into their darkness with His light.
“Peace, however, is utterly distinct from ease. Those remaining sixteen weeks of Cerian’s life were both the most wonderful and the most awful. For me ‘the peace that passes all understanding’ (Phil. 4:7) was the peace of a lighthouse in the middle of a horrendous storm.”
A few weeks before delivery, she wrote in her journal: “Every day I love her more. In one moment, I want the physical pain to end and for the delivery to happen and then in the next I pray for just one more day with her. I can’t go on like this. My brain is pulverized.”
The rawness through labor is brutal to read. The sweetness of friends visiting to hold their stillborn girl is breathtaking.
“Holding Cerian felt like the ultimate expression of love, to us. It is not easy to hold a dead baby and their acceptance of Cerian was a recognition of the depth of our feeling for her, and an acknowledgement of her personhood.”
Before and after carrying Cerian, Williams taught at Oxford. Her personal reflections are interwoven with the analysis her academic mind brings to ideas.
“My intrinsic worth as a human being is prior to and irrespective of anything else about me. I am loved in exactly the same way that Cerian is loved. … All the privilege of my education, my skills as a teacher and a thinker, being here at Oxfored, the talents and attributes I possess, my healthy body, my husband, my children – all the things out of which I had composed my identity, my sense of self, and my sense of worth – were good gifts but they do not define who I am, nor do they define my worth. Cerian had none of these things, but the absence of them makes her no less a person than me.”
Williams is brave to open the door on this shockingly severe and sacred year. You should be brave to step inside and sit in it for a bit.
“Cerian is not a strong religious principle or a rule that compels me to make hard and fast ethical decisions. She is a beautiful person who is teaching me to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely, and face fear with dignity and hope.”
In telling her daughter’s story, Williams offers both poignant memoir and thoughtful scholarship. Underpinning both is a deep faith that makes room for agony and hope, crushing grief and the possibility of joy.
“I did not want a deformed baby and I certainly did not want a dead one. God began to challenge me: What if his definition of life and health was different from mine? What if this baby’s destiny was simply to be with him forever? … What if my role as a mother was to cooperate with God’s dreams for my child even if they did not fit with mine?”
There are no rose-colored glasses to put on, no platitudes, easy answers or unscarred relationships.
Williams recalls a specialist appointment where her husband kept asking unbearable questions about what was ahead. She wanted him to stop, but he couldn’t. “Let me love our daughter my way. This is my way of loving her – making sure that we have explored and thought through every option.”
She tells the truth when it’s ugly. And she tells the truth of how God intervened, breaking over and over into their darkness with His light.
“Peace, however, is utterly distinct from ease. Those remaining sixteen weeks of Cerian’s life were both the most wonderful and the most awful. For me ‘the peace that passes all understanding’ (Phil. 4:7) was the peace of a lighthouse in the middle of a horrendous storm.”
A few weeks before delivery, she wrote in her journal: “Every day I love her more. In one moment, I want the physical pain to end and for the delivery to happen and then in the next I pray for just one more day with her. I can’t go on like this. My brain is pulverized.”
The rawness through labor is brutal to read. The sweetness of friends visiting to hold their stillborn girl is breathtaking.
“Holding Cerian felt like the ultimate expression of love, to us. It is not easy to hold a dead baby and their acceptance of Cerian was a recognition of the depth of our feeling for her, and an acknowledgement of her personhood.”
Before and after carrying Cerian, Williams taught at Oxford. Her personal reflections are interwoven with the analysis her academic mind brings to ideas.
“My intrinsic worth as a human being is prior to and irrespective of anything else about me. I am loved in exactly the same way that Cerian is loved. … All the privilege of my education, my skills as a teacher and a thinker, being here at Oxfored, the talents and attributes I possess, my healthy body, my husband, my children – all the things out of which I had composed my identity, my sense of self, and my sense of worth – were good gifts but they do not define who I am, nor do they define my worth. Cerian had none of these things, but the absence of them makes her no less a person than me.”
Williams is brave to open the door on this shockingly severe and sacred year. You should be brave to step inside and sit in it for a bit.
“Cerian is not a strong religious principle or a rule that compels me to make hard and fast ethical decisions. She is a beautiful person who is teaching me to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely, and face fear with dignity and hope.”
March 25, 2025
“We often separate stories from ideas, narratives from academic treatises, the private from the public, our hearts from our minds. I believe these dimensions always belong together; indeed, in this book broad existential questions concerning the whole of human society meet the messy realities of ordinary life…What does it mean to be human? This is the question our daughter Cerian raised for me, and this is the question that lies at the core of this book.”
“Principles, however sound they might be, were simply not enough to give us the capacity to go on. They stopped short, leaving a great chasm of pain…I can only say we felt God speak a message to our hearts as clearly as if he had been talking with us in person. Here is a sick and dying child. Will you love this child for me? The question reframed everything. It was no longer primarily a question of abstract ethical principle but rather the gentle imperative of love. Before we finished praying, the chasm between the principle and the choice had been filled.”
“Cerian is Welsh for 'loved one.’ The word is a general term of endearment like 'my darling.’ If God were Welsh he would call each of us 'Cerian -my loved one’...The quiet beauty of Cerian's life goes on challenging me: What does it really mean to be human?...personhood is not a work of self-definition and self-creation. Instead, it is a gift.”
“It is not only the personal resonance of Cerian's story that prompts me to write about her…it is also a deep and enduring conviction that Cerian–along with thousands like her whose physical bodies and mental capacities have never allowed them to live a so-called ‘normal life’ – has something vital to say to a world that is restless and frantic, anxious and lonely.” Nine Months with Cerian is a literary cocktail of pain and beauty, bereavement and joy.
“Principles, however sound they might be, were simply not enough to give us the capacity to go on. They stopped short, leaving a great chasm of pain…I can only say we felt God speak a message to our hearts as clearly as if he had been talking with us in person. Here is a sick and dying child. Will you love this child for me? The question reframed everything. It was no longer primarily a question of abstract ethical principle but rather the gentle imperative of love. Before we finished praying, the chasm between the principle and the choice had been filled.”
“Cerian is Welsh for 'loved one.’ The word is a general term of endearment like 'my darling.’ If God were Welsh he would call each of us 'Cerian -my loved one’...The quiet beauty of Cerian's life goes on challenging me: What does it really mean to be human?...personhood is not a work of self-definition and self-creation. Instead, it is a gift.”
“It is not only the personal resonance of Cerian's story that prompts me to write about her…it is also a deep and enduring conviction that Cerian–along with thousands like her whose physical bodies and mental capacities have never allowed them to live a so-called ‘normal life’ – has something vital to say to a world that is restless and frantic, anxious and lonely.” Nine Months with Cerian is a literary cocktail of pain and beauty, bereavement and joy.
March 18, 2020
Sarah is an academic with clear thinking and strong writing, yet her story is also deeply personal and emotional, and she balances it all so well. I was moved to tears at the end. Her epilogue made me reconsider the way we view prenatal sonograms, and I want to ponder her thoughts on freedom and identity until they change how I live and see myself.
Although my physical struggles are so minor compared to the "handicaps" many other people experience, I felt especially moved as she talked about our arbitrary standards of "normality" and the worth of those who cannot perform certain functions or are not as healthy as society thinks they should be. A beautiful, powerful read.
God began to challenge me: What if his definition of life and health was different from mine? What if this baby’s destiny was simply to be with him forever? What if the days ordained for her did not include a birthday? Did it make those days any less precious or meaningful? What if my role as a mother was to cooperate with God's dreams for my child even if they did not fit with mine?
Although my physical struggles are so minor compared to the "handicaps" many other people experience, I felt especially moved as she talked about our arbitrary standards of "normality" and the worth of those who cannot perform certain functions or are not as healthy as society thinks they should be. A beautiful, powerful read.
God began to challenge me: What if his definition of life and health was different from mine? What if this baby’s destiny was simply to be with him forever? What if the days ordained for her did not include a birthday? Did it make those days any less precious or meaningful? What if my role as a mother was to cooperate with God's dreams for my child even if they did not fit with mine?
January 21, 2019
This was a moving tribute to the beauty of unborn human life made whole through unconditional love. The story of how and why baby Cerian was, which closely mirrors a similar story in my own life, offers one of the strongest challenges to the merely "functionalist" perspective of what makes us human. To be human is not fundamentally to be able to will/act/think/perform/do. To be human is to love and be loved by God.
March 4, 2021
Beautiful, poignant, and quite powerful. I'm not a weepy guy, but found myself often needing to wipe my eyes so I could read on.
What a lovely case her story makes for the dignity and humanity of every single one of us. God has fruitful work for even little ones who die before taking a breath. God makes no mistakes.
What a lovely case her story makes for the dignity and humanity of every single one of us. God has fruitful work for even little ones who die before taking a breath. God makes no mistakes.
April 11, 2021
A remarkable book, that makes us appreciate just how valuable and beautiful a baby can be, even free of all the markers which we humans use to assign value (health, length of life, status, utility.) I read it bit by bit over a long period of time and wept each time I picked it up again. A beautiful, heart-rending, vulnerable story.
October 1, 2018
Williams has written a touching memoir of pregnancy and the meaning of personhood. She was teaching history at Oxford. She and her husband had two young daughters when she found out she was pregnant. Then an ultrasound and the news of a lethal skeletal deformity. They were told the child would not live and a decision had to be made. She was determined. She would carry the baby as long as possible.
Williams shares the shock, her feelings, dealing with doctors, her interactions with well meaning Christians, asking the “why” questions, the support of friends, the complications, the final still birth.
This memoir is much more than just a record of events. Williams had decided she would see this journey as an opportunity to know God better. Hers is an extraordinary journey of carrying a child she knew would not survive.
This memoir is also an exploration of what it means to be human. How we treat our weak, she writes, tells us much about our society. (864/1652) The issues of bioethics and the idea of personhood are woven throughout her personal account.
I highly recommend this memoir. It is an touching personal experience in the midst of prenatal testing and decision making issues. It gave this reader much to think about concerning the responsibilities that come with technology and pregnancy.
I received a complimentary egalley of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.
Williams shares the shock, her feelings, dealing with doctors, her interactions with well meaning Christians, asking the “why” questions, the support of friends, the complications, the final still birth.
This memoir is much more than just a record of events. Williams had decided she would see this journey as an opportunity to know God better. Hers is an extraordinary journey of carrying a child she knew would not survive.
This memoir is also an exploration of what it means to be human. How we treat our weak, she writes, tells us much about our society. (864/1652) The issues of bioethics and the idea of personhood are woven throughout her personal account.
I highly recommend this memoir. It is an touching personal experience in the midst of prenatal testing and decision making issues. It gave this reader much to think about concerning the responsibilities that come with technology and pregnancy.
I received a complimentary egalley of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.
December 17, 2019
While this is a very sad book, it is also uplifting. What would you do if you were pregnant and found out your baby would be born with a terrible birth defect and would likely die during the birth? Would you terminate the pregnancy or follow it to term? This is what the author faced and she decided to complete the pregnancy. The author has a strong faith and this helps her get through. The author gives advice on what to say and not say when someone you know faces infant loss.
May 28, 2025
I cried. Moving and thought provoking.
July 3, 2019
PERFECTLY HUMAN: NINE MONTHS WITH CERIAN is a heartbreakingly beautiful book about author Sarah Williams’ decision to carry her baby with lethal skeletal dysplasia to term. Birth with this condition is fatal for the child.
Sarah is happily married and teaching history at the University of Oxford — with academic credentials, success, and knowledge — but it took her fatally disabled unborn child to teach her humbling humanity.
She and her husband find themselves having to explain their decision to bring to term their already cherished baby, whom they call Cerian (Welsh for “loved one.”) They face disbelief and even outright hostility from others.
As Sarah writes, “Cerian is not a strong religious principle or a rule that compels me to make hard and fast ethical decisions. She is a beautiful person who is teaching me to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely, and face fear with dignity and hope.”
In this tear-inducing and inspirational memoir, the author describes her heart-stretching journey towards Cerian's birthday and her deathday. She does so without self-pity, rather expressing gratitude for the gift of Cerian and her lessons about the value of a life, no matter how perfectly “imperfect.” 5/5
Pub Date 01 Oct 2018
Thanks to Plough Publishing and NetGalley for the review copy. Opinions are fully mine.
#PerfectlyHuman #NetGalley
Sarah is happily married and teaching history at the University of Oxford — with academic credentials, success, and knowledge — but it took her fatally disabled unborn child to teach her humbling humanity.
She and her husband find themselves having to explain their decision to bring to term their already cherished baby, whom they call Cerian (Welsh for “loved one.”) They face disbelief and even outright hostility from others.
As Sarah writes, “Cerian is not a strong religious principle or a rule that compels me to make hard and fast ethical decisions. She is a beautiful person who is teaching me to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely, and face fear with dignity and hope.”
In this tear-inducing and inspirational memoir, the author describes her heart-stretching journey towards Cerian's birthday and her deathday. She does so without self-pity, rather expressing gratitude for the gift of Cerian and her lessons about the value of a life, no matter how perfectly “imperfect.” 5/5
Pub Date 01 Oct 2018
Thanks to Plough Publishing and NetGalley for the review copy. Opinions are fully mine.
#PerfectlyHuman #NetGalley
August 23, 2018
I did not want to read this book. I thought the subject matter was too tough and it would be too painful to read. While the subject matter is hard, it is a beautifully written book. I went through a roller coaster of emotions while reading it, but the story line was very engaging and kept pulling me back in. When one of the girls asked if she could always love the baby even when it died, I shed a few tears. The scene in the hospital where Sarah and Wren felt God’s presence in the room coming to take Cerian home gave me goosebumps. Even though this is a real story it reads more like a novel in the way you are drawn into the characters and story. I highly recommend this book.
March 22, 2019
Someone from church loaned me a copy right after we lost a grandson at birth. I wasn't sure if I could read it, and so waited four weeks. I was finally able to pick it up, and wept through much of the tale. Though "Perfectly Human" was originally written in 2005 as "The Shaming of the Strong" it was been reworked in 2018 and added to for this edition. Though I cried through much of the material, I can wholeheartedly say it is worth the read, even if you have lost a child or just received news that the life you are carrying inside is malformed, or might not live.
"Perfectly Human" is the story of Paul and Sarah Williams, their family and their friends, and it revolves around the gestation, death and birth of their youngest daughter, Cerian (Welsh for "loved one"). While Cerian was in the womb, the medical establishment discovered she had thanatophric dysplasia, a deadly skeletal deformity that would result in the death of the child at birth. From the moment of that news through the remainder of the carriage, the reader walks with Paul, Sarah, Emilia, Hannah, Wren, Emma, and the family's loving network. There were hard decisions, harsh assumptions made by the medical professionals about sub-optimal life and worth, physical and emotional pain, and the loss and the grief. In the story there are telling moments that show how much Westerners are inebriated with the idea of choice and strength defining a person's worth. As Williams notes in the epilogue, "in the Western world, choosing what we desire has become the essence of what it means to be human" (156).
"Perfectly Human" is a personal epiphany that God-as-Trinity has made us in his image, and thus made us as relational beings meant for relationship with himself. Our worth is not found in how strong, athletic, or accomplished we can be, but in God. His loving us is evidence of this worth. Mothers and fathers, seniors and students will find the book worth their time to read and discuss. And those who have lost a special little one, will rejoice - though likely, as I did, through tears - in the hope and value affirmed in this account. I highly recommend the book.
"Perfectly Human" is the story of Paul and Sarah Williams, their family and their friends, and it revolves around the gestation, death and birth of their youngest daughter, Cerian (Welsh for "loved one"). While Cerian was in the womb, the medical establishment discovered she had thanatophric dysplasia, a deadly skeletal deformity that would result in the death of the child at birth. From the moment of that news through the remainder of the carriage, the reader walks with Paul, Sarah, Emilia, Hannah, Wren, Emma, and the family's loving network. There were hard decisions, harsh assumptions made by the medical professionals about sub-optimal life and worth, physical and emotional pain, and the loss and the grief. In the story there are telling moments that show how much Westerners are inebriated with the idea of choice and strength defining a person's worth. As Williams notes in the epilogue, "in the Western world, choosing what we desire has become the essence of what it means to be human" (156).
"Perfectly Human" is a personal epiphany that God-as-Trinity has made us in his image, and thus made us as relational beings meant for relationship with himself. Our worth is not found in how strong, athletic, or accomplished we can be, but in God. His loving us is evidence of this worth. Mothers and fathers, seniors and students will find the book worth their time to read and discuss. And those who have lost a special little one, will rejoice - though likely, as I did, through tears - in the hope and value affirmed in this account. I highly recommend the book.
September 20, 2018
Review: Perfectly Human: Nine Months With Cerian by Sarah C. Williams. 4.5★'s
This was a sad emotional true story and educating to others who decide to have a child and during the pregnancy they have a tremendous decision to make. The book was well written and the all the family characters emotions will send a chill through you. Sarah told her family’s issue but as she narrated I could feel how hard it was to relate to the reader what she and her family went through. It was like an emotional roller-coaster throughout the book.
I can deeply understand Sarah and her husband’s decision about the baby and I feel I probably would do and feel the same. For nine months she bonds with the baby in her womb. They later found out it was a girl and named her Cerian which is Welsh and means “loved one”. Sarah is a professor teaching at a college and some medical staff and a few of her professional colleagues can’t bring themselves to accept the decision so Sarah and Paul had to protect their child’s dignity and worth against incomprehension and sometime they even have to face an oppositional rival.
Sarah assures her child isn’t a product of religious belief or a baby needy for a quick ethical response, she is still a live fetus wanting nurturing and love. Cerian is a beautiful child who is teaching her mother to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely and face fear with dignity and hope.
“Life raises vital questions about what we value and where we are headed as a culture…”
This was a sad emotional true story and educating to others who decide to have a child and during the pregnancy they have a tremendous decision to make. The book was well written and the all the family characters emotions will send a chill through you. Sarah told her family’s issue but as she narrated I could feel how hard it was to relate to the reader what she and her family went through. It was like an emotional roller-coaster throughout the book.
I can deeply understand Sarah and her husband’s decision about the baby and I feel I probably would do and feel the same. For nine months she bonds with the baby in her womb. They later found out it was a girl and named her Cerian which is Welsh and means “loved one”. Sarah is a professor teaching at a college and some medical staff and a few of her professional colleagues can’t bring themselves to accept the decision so Sarah and Paul had to protect their child’s dignity and worth against incomprehension and sometime they even have to face an oppositional rival.
Sarah assures her child isn’t a product of religious belief or a baby needy for a quick ethical response, she is still a live fetus wanting nurturing and love. Cerian is a beautiful child who is teaching her mother to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely and face fear with dignity and hope.
“Life raises vital questions about what we value and where we are headed as a culture…”
September 24, 2018
Thank you to NetGalley, Plough Publishing and Sarah C. Williams for the chance to read this novel.
This true story begins with the welcome news of a new member of the Williams family. But the happiness is short-lived, as a hospital scan reveals a lethal skeletal dysplasia. Birth will be fatal.
Sarah and Paul decide to carry the baby to term, a decision that shocks medical staff and Sarah’s professional colleagues. Sarah and Paul find themselves having to defend their child’s dignity and worth against incomprehension and at times open hostility. They name their daughter, Cerian, Welsh for “loved one".
This book truly is extraordinary. It is beautifully written and the author manages to take us on her heartbreaking journey while also eloquently discussing the questions that we need to ask ourselves about how we view health and life, both before and after birth.
I felt a pull to this book from the moment I read the description. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy read but it is like it came to me at a perfect time. For me what that meant was the unexpected and incredibly powerful impact it had on how I view my own life. I was born prematurely and not expected to survive. The doctors all said if I did somehow survive I would be severely mentally and physically handicapped. I defied the odds but was diagnosed with my first of many chronic illnesses aged just 18. To live knowing my life could have been all the more arduous is something I’m used to, as is living my best life despite its limitations. But this book made me look at this in a deeper way.
This was a powerful, emotional and wonderful book that challenges you in ways you didn’t expect.
This true story begins with the welcome news of a new member of the Williams family. But the happiness is short-lived, as a hospital scan reveals a lethal skeletal dysplasia. Birth will be fatal.
Sarah and Paul decide to carry the baby to term, a decision that shocks medical staff and Sarah’s professional colleagues. Sarah and Paul find themselves having to defend their child’s dignity and worth against incomprehension and at times open hostility. They name their daughter, Cerian, Welsh for “loved one".
This book truly is extraordinary. It is beautifully written and the author manages to take us on her heartbreaking journey while also eloquently discussing the questions that we need to ask ourselves about how we view health and life, both before and after birth.
I felt a pull to this book from the moment I read the description. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy read but it is like it came to me at a perfect time. For me what that meant was the unexpected and incredibly powerful impact it had on how I view my own life. I was born prematurely and not expected to survive. The doctors all said if I did somehow survive I would be severely mentally and physically handicapped. I defied the odds but was diagnosed with my first of many chronic illnesses aged just 18. To live knowing my life could have been all the more arduous is something I’m used to, as is living my best life despite its limitations. But this book made me look at this in a deeper way.
This was a powerful, emotional and wonderful book that challenges you in ways you didn’t expect.
December 6, 2018
There’s a book popping up on lots of “Best of 2018” lists called Everything Happens for a Reason (And Other Lies I’ve Loved) by Kate Bowler. I had the privilege of hearing Kate Bowler, professor at Duke Divinity School, tell her story at the Festival of Faith and Writing this spring. Basically, her story is this: after devoting her academic research to explaining the “prosperity gospel” phenomenon and unpacking with compassion the allure of the promises made in prosperity-centered churches, Bowler got diagnosed with a rare and aggressive cancer. Just after dismantling the false promises of the prosperity gospel, she found herself maybe wanting the prosperity gospel to be true. Shouldn’t there be a method that could make God cure you? She details this experience in her memoir with honesty and humor. It’s a charming book (albeit with some salty language) that explores the conflict that occurs when our idealistic principles are tested by the pain of real life.
Like Bowler, Sarah Williams is a professor and a Christian when she receives one of the most frightening diagnoses: her already beloved but unborn daughter will not survive out of the womb. She recognizes that her principles are on trial. But this is not a cold ethical dilemma. This is a warm child living in her womb. Immediately, Williams recognizes that her “principles… were simply not enough to gives us the capacity to go on. They stopped short, leaving a great chasm of pain.”
Perfectly Human: Nine Months with Cerian tells the story of principles played out in real life. It is one thing to know what ought to be done in such a situation. It is another thing entirely to live it.
Williams lives out her principles, yes, but she does so because she is compelled by love. And it is a lovely tragedy to witness. Her family surrounds her with love, loving the baby through the way they care for Sarah during the “summer of Cerian” as they anticipate the baby’s stillbirth. Her most intimate support network includes her husband, her mother, her daughters, and her friend Janet whose concurrent pregnancy means that “Janet chose to grieve with me. Later I would have to choose to celebrate with her. Both choices were costly.”
This is a story about weakness and willingness. Williams retelling of the events of these poignant months offers insight into the human cost of bioethical decisions. Throughout her retelling of this story, Williams makes some subtle but important distinctions about her choice. When one doctor asks if she is deciding not to terminate on “strong religious grounds,” Williams clarifies that she does have strong religious beliefs, but they aren’t the reason she made this decision. “Cerian is not a strong religious principle or a rule that compels me to make a hard and fast ethical decisions. She is a beautiful person who is teaching me to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely, and face fear with dignity and hope.”
Reading this is bearing witness to what it means to be pro-life. What we are willing to do for the least of these is the ultimate display of our faith, but it comes at a cost. Perfectly Human: Nine Months with Cerian is a beautiful exploration of love bearing all things (1 Corinthians 13:7). Williams' thoughtful retelling makes this a powerful book.
Like Bowler, Sarah Williams is a professor and a Christian when she receives one of the most frightening diagnoses: her already beloved but unborn daughter will not survive out of the womb. She recognizes that her principles are on trial. But this is not a cold ethical dilemma. This is a warm child living in her womb. Immediately, Williams recognizes that her “principles… were simply not enough to gives us the capacity to go on. They stopped short, leaving a great chasm of pain.”
Perfectly Human: Nine Months with Cerian tells the story of principles played out in real life. It is one thing to know what ought to be done in such a situation. It is another thing entirely to live it.
Williams lives out her principles, yes, but she does so because she is compelled by love. And it is a lovely tragedy to witness. Her family surrounds her with love, loving the baby through the way they care for Sarah during the “summer of Cerian” as they anticipate the baby’s stillbirth. Her most intimate support network includes her husband, her mother, her daughters, and her friend Janet whose concurrent pregnancy means that “Janet chose to grieve with me. Later I would have to choose to celebrate with her. Both choices were costly.”
This is a story about weakness and willingness. Williams retelling of the events of these poignant months offers insight into the human cost of bioethical decisions. Throughout her retelling of this story, Williams makes some subtle but important distinctions about her choice. When one doctor asks if she is deciding not to terminate on “strong religious grounds,” Williams clarifies that she does have strong religious beliefs, but they aren’t the reason she made this decision. “Cerian is not a strong religious principle or a rule that compels me to make a hard and fast ethical decisions. She is a beautiful person who is teaching me to love the vulnerable, treasure the unlovely, and face fear with dignity and hope.”
Reading this is bearing witness to what it means to be pro-life. What we are willing to do for the least of these is the ultimate display of our faith, but it comes at a cost. Perfectly Human: Nine Months with Cerian is a beautiful exploration of love bearing all things (1 Corinthians 13:7). Williams' thoughtful retelling makes this a powerful book.
October 5, 2018
What would you do if you discovered your unborn child would not survive life beyond the womb?
For Sarah C. Williams and her husband Paul, the decision to carry their severely deformed daughter to term comes without much consideration for the alternative - termination. Sarah rejects advice from medical professionals and instead chooses to protect and love the tiny human within her for as long as possible.
Sarah's memoir is a vulnerable, honest, and heartbreaking account of her 9 Months with Cerian. Sarah discovers that her daughter, while imperfect in the eyes of the world, is actually a very perfect gift. She begs us to consider the questions: What does it mean to be human? What defines a human being's worth or value?
Grounded in her faith and belief that all life is valuable and should be treasured, Sarah has shared her story with the world in hopes that we will also look beyond a person's physical and mental abilities and find their true worth.
This review was written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers.
For Sarah C. Williams and her husband Paul, the decision to carry their severely deformed daughter to term comes without much consideration for the alternative - termination. Sarah rejects advice from medical professionals and instead chooses to protect and love the tiny human within her for as long as possible.
Sarah's memoir is a vulnerable, honest, and heartbreaking account of her 9 Months with Cerian. Sarah discovers that her daughter, while imperfect in the eyes of the world, is actually a very perfect gift. She begs us to consider the questions: What does it mean to be human? What defines a human being's worth or value?
Grounded in her faith and belief that all life is valuable and should be treasured, Sarah has shared her story with the world in hopes that we will also look beyond a person's physical and mental abilities and find their true worth.
This review was written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers.
December 25, 2023
Maybe it's just because I find myself so far away from having kids it's hard to imagine what this experience could be like, but the book didn't really resonate with me like I had hoped it would. This is a book about a couple who end up with a baby that, upon birth, is predicted to die because of a congenital disease--and it's not really a spoiler to say, she does die. That's why it's called Nine Months with Cerian. For me at least, I found much of the narrative portion of the book poorly written, sometimes with uneven prose. Weirdly, the last ten percent of the book is a straight up copy and paste of the last few chapters again.
Still, I think this is a book that serves a greater purpose than connecting with me. It connects with those who are suffering through this kind of grief. It connects with THOSE people and helps them find meaning. I also think the last part, with its more academic/sociological leanings, was in some ways more interesting for me as it teased out the implications of the story in the greater world community.
Still, I think this is a book that serves a greater purpose than connecting with me. It connects with those who are suffering through this kind of grief. It connects with THOSE people and helps them find meaning. I also think the last part, with its more academic/sociological leanings, was in some ways more interesting for me as it teased out the implications of the story in the greater world community.
October 14, 2018
Sarah is pregnant with her third child. Her husband and two daughters are happy and can’t wait for the baby to be born. At her 20 week ultrasound, there is the discovery of a severe skeletal disorder that means neonatal death or stillbirth. She decides to carry the child full term with her husband, her daughters and community support. They do everything possible to support this child should she be the 1% that survive. This isn’t a grief memoir. It’s about the journey to decide and give birth to a child that may or may not live after birth.
It is a heartbreaking story. This memoir may help others who are going through a similar experience with their pregnancy. It is well written.
Disclaimer: I received an arc of the book from the author/publisher from Netgalley. I was not obligated to write a favorable review or any review at all. The opinions expressed are strictly my own.
It is a heartbreaking story. This memoir may help others who are going through a similar experience with their pregnancy. It is well written.
Disclaimer: I received an arc of the book from the author/publisher from Netgalley. I was not obligated to write a favorable review or any review at all. The opinions expressed are strictly my own.
December 21, 2018
I read this in one day (it’s only 160 pages) and it moved me to tears multiple times. The memoir of a family who discovers their unborn daughter is severely deformed and will not survive her birth but ultimately decide to carry her to term. It was sad, yes, but the tears came also from the beautiful story of how the mother struggled with peace in the midst of fear, her testimony of how God loved and cared for their entire family and her understanding of what it means to love the vulnerable, weak and imperfect. Her thoughts on personhood and identity are beautiful and moving. Also, her questions about the effects of prenatal testing on society and how it has shaped our understanding of personhood and normality and quality of life are thought-provoking. Highly recommended.
March 20, 2019
I cried while I read this beautiful book. My family has been through this same experience, wondering how to honor and love a child you'll never raise.
Williams tells a searing story of love, loss, and the inhumanity of bureaucrats who think they know best what to do with your child (terminate). With all the other emotions running through a woman's pregnant heart, pushing her to abort is the worst thing to encounter.
All that being said, recognizing that the best way you can parent a child who will die at or before birth, is to follow through with the appointments, the love, the waiting and honoring their life--short though it is.
I salute the Williams family for their parenting of Cerian and thank them for writing a book that honors their child's short life so very well.
Williams tells a searing story of love, loss, and the inhumanity of bureaucrats who think they know best what to do with your child (terminate). With all the other emotions running through a woman's pregnant heart, pushing her to abort is the worst thing to encounter.
All that being said, recognizing that the best way you can parent a child who will die at or before birth, is to follow through with the appointments, the love, the waiting and honoring their life--short though it is.
I salute the Williams family for their parenting of Cerian and thank them for writing a book that honors their child's short life so very well.
September 21, 2020
Books are meant to have an outsize impact!
This account of love has deeply affected me. As a man I am expected, by society, not my Creator, to be still and have no opinion or thought on things maternal. In my heart, soul, and mind I know this societal expectation to be garbage but it has made insidious inroads into my life over the years. I have thoughts and opinions which touch upon these basic maternal instincts which I shall never experience in a physical way. I believe Mrs. Williams’ account has helped me to see a deeper shade of beauty and value in the world-shaking realm of life; the bearing, the giving,the living, and the dying.
I am a better man and a better human for the gift of Cerian’s story!
This account of love has deeply affected me. As a man I am expected, by society, not my Creator, to be still and have no opinion or thought on things maternal. In my heart, soul, and mind I know this societal expectation to be garbage but it has made insidious inroads into my life over the years. I have thoughts and opinions which touch upon these basic maternal instincts which I shall never experience in a physical way. I believe Mrs. Williams’ account has helped me to see a deeper shade of beauty and value in the world-shaking realm of life; the bearing, the giving,the living, and the dying.
I am a better man and a better human for the gift of Cerian’s story!
August 6, 2018
A beautifully written book on what it means to be human as seen through the eyes of a bereaved mother. I cried continually throughout this book and my heart felt connected to the author as I too, am a mother. The way Sarah continues to pray and trust God even with the inevitable death of her daughter looming in the future is utterly inspiring. Despite these incredibly difficult circumstances, the Williams family grows in their faith and understanding of God, death and humanity in this hard-to-put-down memoir.
January 8, 2019
This book was a blessing to me as I wrestled with the stillbirth of my own daughter. Sarah Williams' work is large part memoir, with just the right amount of ethical and theological reflections to be impactful without appearing preachy.
In additional to being an emotionally charged and beautifully written account, it is also one of the strongest arguments for the sanctify of unborn life I have read. She is honest in her wrestling with the encouragement to terminate the pregnancy, but without shame shows how precious and beautiful the short life of her daughter, and others like her, is.
In additional to being an emotionally charged and beautifully written account, it is also one of the strongest arguments for the sanctify of unborn life I have read. She is honest in her wrestling with the encouragement to terminate the pregnancy, but without shame shows how precious and beautiful the short life of her daughter, and others like her, is.
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