Britney

Here is my first attempt at a short story.

Once upon a time, there was a couple who were going to have a baby. They went to the doctor to find out what they would be having. The doctor looked at the ultrasound and told them that he was pretty sure that they were having a baby girl.

The man and his wife went home, rejoicing at the fact that they were going to have a daughter. They sat together and talked for hours about their little girl. They made plans for her room, what it would look like. And they came up with a name, Britney.

The wife started making a baby quilt for Britney. It was so sweet. The quilt was all the letters of her name in different pink fabrics. And they painted a mural on the wall of a little girl on a tree swing, smiling so big. The room was perfect.

The husband and wife talked to Britney all the time. They sang sweet songs to her. Britney became part of their lives before she was even born. Britney knew their voices and kicked or moved when they talked to her through her mom’s belly.

Finally the day came for the baby to be born. The husband and wife were so ready to see their baby daughter. They had her first outfit ready for her to wear. In fact, they had her first outfits for her first week. All pink and soft little clothes for their daughter to wear.

Britney was born at 4AM like all good little children are. They like to come in the middle of the night so that their parents can start out their parenting job exhausted. But something was wrong. Britney was healthy, but she was a boy. A strong and healthy little boy.

This little boy was a surprise for his parents. They were in shock to hear that they had a son. And they were overcome with emotion. But the emotion wasn’t joy, like you would imagine at the birth of a baby. It was sorrow. For they had planned the next 20 years of their life with Britney. Now they had a son and didn’t know what to do.

They took that little boy home from the hospital. He cried and pooped like all babies do. His parents were tired, like all new parents are. After a few days they gave him a name. Brett. Brett’s mom still gave him the baby quilt with the name Britney on it. He still wore the pink clothes. And his room was still decorated for a girl.

Brett’s parents were sad and a little angry that they didn’t get their daughter. They didn’t feel a love for Brett. In fact, they felt like he was the reason that their dreams were shattered. He made them mad. He cried all the time. They couldn’t seem to make him happy. But part of them didn’t care. He didn’t make them happy either.

When Brett was a few weeks old, he got sick. It wasn’t a big sickness, so his parents didn’t take him to the doctor. Brett got sicker and sicker, but still his parents didn’t take him to see the doctor. He was just more of a problem to them. They actually felt that if he was gone, they could get the daughter, and the life, that they wanted.

Eventually Brett did die. Mostly he died from a broken heart. He was unloved. All he desired was for his parents to love him. But they didn’t because they wanted their daughter. Even as they buried him, they somehow felt relief as they said good-bye to this little life that wasn’t what they wanted.

*** This is a story, only a story. But it represents the stories of hundreds of babies who are unloved by their parents here in India. Mostly the babies that are unwanted are girls. Girls are seen as a burden because you have to pay so much for their education and then their marriage and you get nothing in return.