A child is God’s opinion that the world should go on.

Those words are on a plaque that has hung on the wall of my son’s bedroom since he was born. It used to make me smile every time it caught my eye (except, perhaps, when I was storming out in anger, in which case I may have wanted to toss it out a window). Now, it makes my heart bleed sadness.

The end began more than a dozen years ago, just after the first major worldwide pandemic with its ensuing lockdowns. I thought it was a natural reaction of women using contraceptives more successfully, the ever-increasing sociopolitical chaos, and/or the poorly functioning global economy forcing couples to put off starting families until they could afford the expense. But, at a certain point, it became evident that women just were not getting pregnant.

Anywhere.

Article after article started to appear not just in scientific journals but in every day digital newspapers: “Scientists searching for clues to why global births are plummeting”; “Baby Bust? What’s happening to the world’s birth rate?”; “Condom sales down and abortions eradicated as even teenagers shooting blanks!” It was baffling. People just suddenly stopped having babies.

It only really pierced my consciousness (I don’t regularly follow the news), because my son and his wife had been desperately trying to have a baby for years and no doctor could tell them why it wasn’t happening. Each test determined that there was absolutely no scientific reason why she didn’t get pregnant every single time they tried.

Anyway, as my research has progressed, I have realized that it is not just a personal issue. Nor simply local (some wondered if it was something in the water or the air), nor national (is the government secretly poisoning us?). No. I have read articles in English, Spanish, French and German from across Latin America and Europe, describing the same issue. My friends, Tatka, Nadine and Nisha have shared similar results from articles they have read in Russian, Arabic, Hindi, and Mandarin.

The world population is rapidly decreasing as annual deaths have increased over the last ten years, exceeding 100 million a year for the last three…while the last recorded birth was five years ago.

I was thinking about this yesterday as I was cleaning the house. I saw the plaque in my son’s room.

And, suddenly, I understood.

Avira flipped through the photo album. Her mother was drinking tea and looking out the window on the other side of the table.

"Snow's really coming down," Mrs. Dodds murmured, taking another sip. "I hope Robert's okay up there in Toledo."

"I'm sure he's fine, Mom. You said you'd help me."

"None of us really like to relive it, Pumpkin."

"I know, but I need tis to graduate. Please?"

"Okay," with some resignation.

Mrs. Dodds scooted away from the window and joined her daughter at the table. The photo album was open to pictures of her late grandfather. At the sight of him, Mrs. Dodds' face visibly became twisted with pain.

"Who is he?" she said, tapping on the picture that had caused her mother such a reaction.

"That's Grandpa Lou. He died the same year you were born. That's why your middle name is Louise."

"Sheesh. What happened?"

Mrs. Dodds just looked at the snow for awhile. Then, a hoarse whisper. "Cancer."

"Damn. I mean--"

"It's fine. I was pregnant with you and still had Robby to take care of, so I couldn't fall apart."

"I understand."

There were a long streatch of selfies after that picture. Avira chuckled. "You were trying to be a model or something?"

"Instagram was big back in the day. We all had it and were doing it. I just printed them for my senior project."

"So, you just skipped school and everything?"

"No, that was the first quarantine."

"You were pregnant?"

"Yeah, I found out in October, the country shut down around March, and I had to have you at home in May. Your granny did an emergency C-section on me. I don't really know how either of us are alive."

"So, how long did the quarantines last?"

"On and off for a few years I guess. There was always something overshadowing it, but then all the commercials would say that we were still to be at home because there was still a pandemic. I didn't care. I had to do my finals a week after you were born. I was supposed to go to college after that, but I decided it was just better to not."

"Oh."

Avira flipped silently. Her mom drank tea. The faucet behind them dripped. The clock in the hallway ticked and ticked and ticked...

"Did you know anyone that died?"

"This girl that was a bitch in my class. My favorite YouTuber. Some celebrities died from it. A friend I had made in Germany. That's about it. The deaths were honestly secondary. We all just wanted to go back out."

"So, no one broke quarantine?"

Mrs. Dodds laughed. "Your aunt Cara was so pissed that we were out of school that she vowed to never wear a mask. She ended up getting into a fight and some girl broke her jaw over it. She always wore a mask after that."

"So, it's just like now?"

"Yeah. People were a bit more annoying, but it's different now. They're just now starting to relax about the mask thing but your generation is so used to it that it probably feels weird going outside without them. Everyone just kinda adapted. Even once the virus stopped, the country decided that we should still practice safety through masks and whatnot. People who protested were fined or jailed and that was that."

Just then, the front door opened. Mr. Dodds came in with the boys and Nikki, carrying three large pizzas.

"Is anyone in here hungry?" he proclaimed happily.

He noticed the album on the table and his face fell. "Oh geez, not this again. Are you telling her the pubes story?"

Avira choked on her gum. "What?"

"We were young and stupid," Mrs. Dodds said, shooting her husband a look.

"It burned so bad. And your adorable brother knocks on the door and asks if everything's okay and meanwhile my junk is burning because I decided to 'try something sexy' so I'm trying to stay calm and it was a mess. Poison Control was laughing, your mother was laughing, my mom was laughing. It sucked."

"God, you're weird."

"You be trapped in a house with nothing but your family for six months. You'll be weird too."