Implied thanks: a baby’s journey through pro-life advocacy
By: Sherafgan Khan
Tags: Women, Abortion, Pro Choice, Pro Life, Capital Punishment

Photo by Nynne Schrøder on Unsplash

I always understood, and to a materially relevant degree, empathized with the pro-life position. I even empathized, on a parallel level, with the belief in the sanctity of life position, deeming life as sacred, asserting that only a divine presence should ultimately interfere.

What I have a harder time understanding, is why the subjective discourses surrounding morality are picked as if they were cherries on a tree, selecting only the ripe, juicy cherries that would make for a delightful pie, leaving the rest on the tree to remain sour or rot.

If the focus is to be on the preservation of life and effectuating the message that life is sacred, how is it not understood that life continues after birth?

A child, rightfully protected from premature death, is implicitly thankful to those advocating for life, but also confused as to why that support has halted when the needs to sustain that life are suddenly withdrawn. Had the child possessed a higher level of intellectual capacity, she may further question the motive for that support: why legislation is written in such a manner that she is fully protected before birth, but has to actively jump through hurdles to stay alive.

That child grows up in poverty, going to school hungry but not quite malnourished. The food-stamps helped but were later denied because the mother earned a 5% raise, pushing them slightly above the financial threshold of eligibility. Unfortunately, inflation and the rise in the cost of living made sure they never saw any benefits of that raise, as their rent increased 10%, and the cost of goods shifted symmetrically. The child was now malnourished, but the State said their income was too high; they needed to budget better. The child, desperate, begins to steal from the grocery store: not candy, not pop, but loaves of bread placed under her coat. A couple of eggs hidden comfortably in her pockets. A handful of dried beans stuffed into her socks. This was only temporary, she thought, my advocates will ensure such circumstances will not persist. This was where her life of crime began.

She grew up with those in similar economic circumstances. As property taxes determined the quality of her education, she did not receive much in that regard. Her first boyfriend was a petty thief. Much like her, stealing for necessity at first, and later because it was all he knew. He would later be picked up for grand theft, tried as an adult, and sentenced to five years.

Her mother found a partner, and things began to look up. The girl cleaned up her act, finished school, and found a job. She continued to live with her mother and now step-father, as her income was nowhere near what was required to live on her own. Sadly, the physical abuse would start shortly after. She remained quiet, in a hopeless attempt to comply with the inherent power play of financial dependence; it could be worse, she thought. As time went on, the abuse grew more elaborate and more severe. It affected her emotional state to such a degree, she was willing to do anything to put an end to it.

One night, after the final straw, she decided to execute her plan: a plan, which until now, existed only in her head. In a desperate attempt to end the abuse and seek vengeance, she premeditated and performed the vile man’s execution through poisoning. Her mother, unaware of the details, was heartbroken. Foul play was quickly determined, and the prosecution quickly pointed to the mother, citing collection on a life insurance policy as a motive. In an act of solid character, the girl quickly confessed, detailing the step by step process used to execute her plan, exonerating her mother.

The girl, now charged with murder of the first degree, was unable to afford a lawyer. The public defender saw no hope; the State had a confession plus a detailed and premeditated outline. The prosecutor, eager to get his conviction numbers up, deemed the abuse hearsay, and an excuse to justify the heinous crime in order to collect on a life insurance policy. She was sentenced to death, as the jury saw the premeditated attempt as a means to financial gain. She sat on death row for nine years, losing every appeal in the process. Her relationship with her mother tarnished, as there were so many voids that were never quite filled.

The day of her execution arrives. After she finished her last meal of fried egg on white bread with two tablespoons of black truffle butter, she chuckled at the irony. As she is strapped to the gurney, she declines her last words, opting instead to go into the deep recesses of her subconscious. As she takes her final breaths, she remembers the day she was born. She remembers the energetic and passionate advocates who ensured her right to live. In her final moment on earth, she chose not to dwell on their absence in the viewing room, nor their lack of advocacy for her life in the present. Instead, she smiled at her final thought before being put to rest: “Thank you for saving my life.”