Children are an act of hope

On having kids instead of giving into fear

Today’s is a different sort of piece, one that a kind friend tried to help place at a couple of outlets to no avail. It was meant to be here, it seems, and maybe fittingly. I began to consider these ideas upon the birth of my first child, and the long, broken nights and laundry-heavy days of recent weeks have borne it anew.

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Recent generations seem chronically hesitant to bear children. The U.S. birth rate of 1.67 is well below the rate required to sustain our current population, and, according to a 2021 Pew study, 44% of nonparents between 18 and 49 claim that having children isn't likely in their future, an increase of 7 percentage points from three years before.

This sentiment may arise from the ever daunting and discouraging search for a spouse, or perhaps from worries about mistakes their parents made, financial concerns or a belief that our world is at too calamitous a point to bring more people into it. 

Any of these reasons might compel the hesitant to hold off. They suggest an aim at responsibility, a desire for well-being. But they miss the point.* 

Bearing children is one of the most hopeful things we can do. 

When my daughter was born, I remember looking into her gray newborn eyes in awe of the power and responsibility I now bore. I could fill her with love, with truth about her dignity and beauty and goodness. That I could speak into this little person the very words I struggled to speak to myself was wondrous. 

Raising children is an opportunity to bring this goodness into the future. If we are worried about the state of our world, we can contribute quite practically by raising good people. We cannot guarantee our efforts, but parents have a profound opportunity to instill virtue into their children: love, patience, generosity, self-control, humility, to name a few. Every culture in history has needed people with these virtues. 

Instead of asking what kind of world we’re bringing them into, we should wonder: What might my child contribute? She might be a great artist, a great healer, a great leader. If not those, she might at least tell the truth and love her enemies. 

But there are more selfish benefits to having children. They help us grow up. They can teach us, perhaps more than anyone else, how little we are in control of. They invite us to think less of ourselves and more about the well-being of others. They force us to confront our shortcomings and weaknesses with humility. If we let them, children help us to become better people. 

Last, of course, they can bring us unspeakable joy: with their neediness, their first smiles, their bubbling chatter, how they seem to look into us, loving us just as we are. Parenting isn’t easy; it is among the hardest things. But I hope that current and coming generations consider it anew—as an act of confidence in themselves and in human goodness. 

My five-week old son rests against my chest as I write this, sleeping and breathing deeply. The warmth of his body against mine is unlike any feeling—a soothing immensity. However tempting it is to fear the risks and count the costs of bearing him, there’s courage in the love that I surround him with and the gift that he will be to our world.

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* I have a few friends and know of many more people who long to bear children but experience infertility or other obstacles to childbearing. They comprehend the argument of this essay perhaps better than anyone.