Life After Birth
by Elizabeth Spencer Spragins
[Editor’s Note: This piece is part of the “Topical” series, with each piece solely submitted to and chosen by the Final Reader Pietra Dunmore.]
“You are Roger Thomas Shelton, are you not?” Advocate Hazel MacDonald adjusted her glasses and peered down her nose at the report in her black binder. She didn’t bother to wait for a response. “Then I’m afraid there’s no mistake. You will be awarded custody of twin boys on their delivery date, which will probably be in the third week of February.”
Roger paled. “Whoa! Stop right there. I’m in college on a football scholarship. Being a dad would totally mess up my life. Besides, what makes you think I’m the father? I’ve never even dated this Melinda person.”
MacDonald smirked. “Oh, we’re absolutely certain you’re the father. The sperm tracker database is 99.9% accurate. Although we don’t have your DNA on file, your sperm profile is part of your permanent student record.”
“Hey, I didn’t give you permission to access my records!”
“No, but the Life Tribunal did. The legislation that outlawed abortion expanded their scope of operations. Since the right to privacy has been eliminated, Professional Fetal Advocates are authorized to use all means necessary to determine paternity. Unfortunately, not every child is conceived intentionally within the sacred bond of marriage.” She bared her teeth. “According to witnesses, you doctored Melinda Parker’s drink to incapacitate her at your high school graduation party. She never said ‘Yes,’ did she? When men walk away from their responsibilities in such situations, the law provides a remedy. According to the statute, if the mother doesn’t want the baby, the father must raise it.”
“That’s not fair,” he sputtered.
“The Tribunal has decreed that it is fair. Their mission is ensuring that every unborn child is guaranteed a chance at life. Ms. Parker will suffer the discomfort of an unwanted pregnancy for nine months. Then it’s your turn.”
“Well, stick the babies in day care or something. I can’t deal with them.” Roger crossed his arms and leaned back in the plastic chair.
“We can certainly put you on the waiting list for day care. However, we do not anticipate any openings until late next year. Incidentally, the Tribunal has classified you a reluctant care giver, so the judgment includes mandatory parenting classes five days a week for the duration of the pregnancy. Also, you are deemed a flight risk, so you will be required to wear an ankle monitor at all times.”
“How am I supposed to support two kids and go to school? I don’t even have a job!” His voice quivered with a note of panic.
“The state offers nutritional programs and housing vouchers for unemployed single parents with infants. I’ll give you an application, but it’s probably not worth your time to complete it. Funding cuts are imminent because we simply must cut taxes to cultivate a robust economy. In the meantime, keep those grades up. Education is the ticket to a better life.” She flashed a smile and snapped the binder closed.
Elizabeth Spencer Spragins is a fiber artist, writer, and poet who taught in North Carolina community colleges for more than a decade before returning to her home state of Virginia. Her work has appeared in more than 80 journals and anthologies in ten countries. She is the author of three original poetry collections: “Waltzing with Water” and “With No Bridle for the Breeze” (Shanti Arts Publishing) and “The Language of Bones” (Kelsay Books).
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What surprising, fascinating stuff can you tell us about the origin, drafting, and/or final version of “Life After Birth”? I have never written anything like this before. Most of my work celebrates the magic of nature, the resilience of the human spirit, or the connection between the two. In contrast, “Life After Birth” is a response to Texas’s new law that criminalizes all abortions, without exception, after about the sixth week of pregnancy. When Governor Abbott signed that legislation, I found myself replaying conversations with former students who were survivors of sexual abuse and violence. Some of the victims whispered their stories; others shared them publicly. I remembered how their eyes pleaded for compassion. However, the only emotion I detected in the faces of the Texas legislators was self-righteous condemnation of women faced with unintended pregnancy. My initial draft of this piece focused on the destruction of a young girl’s future. Given that countless women have shared their personal experiences with reproductive choices, I felt that my fictional account would have minimal impact. Consequently, I decided to reframe the conversation by switching the genders of the characters.
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