My American grandmother, who raised seven children in Floral Park, New York, loved to tell people with a big smile, “Kids come with instructions!” My Cuban grandmother, who raised fourteen children—first in Havana and then in the US—told me when I asked her if she always wanted fourteen kids, “Oh no! I wanted twelve. But God answered my prayers and even gave me two more!” Their words and their witness communicated a mentality of abundance: God provided them with everything they needed to raise their children, including many siblings for their children. 

As a young woman in my twenties with multiple degrees from Ivy League universities, I believed that I needed to plan my career and family together, optimizing both according to my preferences. As I entered my thirties, my career ascended, but my dreams of family life faded; I was always the bridesmaid but never the bride.  

But thanks to my two grandmothers, who raised large, loving families, I was always surrounded by aunts, uncles, cousins, and my own three brothers along with their children. If I were single and childless—not by choice but by circumstance—I would fully embrace being an older cousin, an aunt, and a great babysitter to my friend’s kids.  

I never missed a chance to cuddle a newborn baby. When a colleague from China gave birth, I rushed to her house to meet the baby. She had struggled with infertility for years and could not have been more joyful to have a baby. Yet, practically in tears, she admitted that she had never held a baby until she had one of her own. She was afraid when he cried and didn’t know how to hold him.  

I simply grabbed the baby, rocked him at my hip, and sang to him to soothe him. Then I wrapped him in a blanket, fed him a bottle, and burped him. Soon he was fast asleep in my arms, and I smiled, relishing the heavenly delight of feeling a newborn baby breathe. 

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“How did you learn to do that?” my friend asked in amazement. 

My friend had the gift of a child, but she needed to learn from someone how to nurture her baby. Her question made me realize that I had taken for granted my upbringing in a large family where everyone shares in the joys and burdens of raising many children. 

In February 2025, I sat down at the New York Encounter with two demographers, W. Bradford Wilcox of the University of Virginia and Nicholas Eberstadt of the American Enterprise Institute. They shared startling statistics showing that my Chinese friend, a woman with one child, and I, a woman with no biological children, represent the new global norm.   

What drives the global demographic shift toward women choosing not to have children or having only one child? What are the social implications of a world with fewer children? What wisdom can we learn from past generations with larger families that might encourage both women and men to appreciate the joys of family life, even as children challenge our plans in ways that are both perplexing and beautiful? 

During our conversation, Eberstadt presented a sobering view of global demographics (that is, if you care about the future of the human population). We have surpassed the so-called demographic transition that was expected to yield just enough children to replace our population (two children per woman). Notably, this demographic decline is not an exclusive phenomenon of North America and Europe. 

Eberstadt explained, for example, that the birthrate (i.e., average number of children per woman) is 0.55 in Seoul, Korea. Perhaps more surprisingly, the birth rate is only 1.2 in Istanbul, Turkey, and 1.2 in Calcutta, India. Three-quarters of the world’s population lives in countries where the population is declining. There’s one regional exception to these trends—the African continent. However, Eberstadt emphasized that even Africa’s population trends are right behind the rest of the globe; that is, Africa, too, will soon have a shrinking population. 

Global depopulation is not entirely a new phenomenon; however, what’s new is that it seems to be by choice, Eberstadt said. Previous instances of global depopulation were caused by war, famine, or natural disasters. Yet today, many areas experiencing population decline have known peace and prosperity, which, at least in theory, should alleviate concerns about raising children.  

Why, then, are people not having children? In the United States, Wilcox explained, many young adults, both men and women, seem to prioritize careers over family. According to Wilcox’s predictions, one-third of young Americans will remain unmarried. He countered the idea that the childless are happier than parents. As it turns out, the freedom to pursue our self-interest without the constraints of marriage and children does not lead to happiness. On average, Wilcox noted, his research shows married people with kids are happier than their single and childless counterparts.  

As he elaborates in his 2024 book, Get Married: Why Americans Must Defy the Elites, Forge Strong Families, and Save Civilization, the American heart is closing. The great paradox is that many young people have ambitious plans and high ideals for marriage and family, yet they postpone those dreams to first pursue a career, travel, and accumulate wealth. The result is that many people simply end up never married and lonely, with enough money in the bank to remain entertained, but never truly happy. 

Both Eberstadt and Wilcox emphasized that the decision to have children or not changes the entire society around you. When large families were common, society was oriented toward raising the next generation: churches, schools, and families collaborated to support one another. Everyone (married or not) was, in some form or other, passing on wisdom and nurturing the next generation. No one ever chided either of my grandmothers for wasting the world’s resources on their children.  

Deep inside most men and women, the desire for children may indeed exist. However, the unintended consequence of public policy efforts and social pressure to restrict family size to two children per woman has been a significant loss of social learning regarding childrearing. The majority of the world’s population today does not grow up around siblings or younger children, often experiencing social isolation and fearing the burdens of raising a child of their own. 

Eberstadt and Wilcox pointed out that, due to personal choices and social changes—including the rise of the smartphone—many people seek meaning solely through achievement or online entertainment. Intimate relationships recede, people turn inward, new marriages have become rare events, and bringing new life into the world is viewed as detrimental to the environment.   

As I earned a Ph.D. in sociology at Princeton University just one year after Wilcox, I recognized that by the late 1990s, almost no one in the population demographics guild still believed the simplistic narrative that population growth causes global poverty, environmental degradation, and general human misery.  

As a Catholic woman, I believed my happiness lay in a vocation of marriage and motherhood. Yet, when I called off my plans for marriage in my late thirties—because my former fiancé decided he did not want the responsibility of raising children—it seemed beyond my control that I would become one of the statistics of a childless, successful career woman. What was I to do? How was I to live a happy life? It didn’t help when the advice I sometimes got was that single people, and married but infertile couples c, are left doomed by our so-called “choices” to be childless and unhappy. 

I learned that people with large families (and today, a family of more than one child could be called large) longed to be surrounded by community. So, I sought out friends with kids—babysitting, going to kids’ movies, and enjoying countless kids’ birthday parties and baptisms. I didn’t need instructions—I just stepped in, held babies, played with toddlers, and relished the hugs and smiles I received. When, at age forty-eight, I married a wonderful man, the fact that I had learned to build intimate relationships with others’ children prepared me to embrace becoming a stepmother and supportive wife. 

In today’s world, however, many people need guidance on how to raise children. On Tammy Peterson’s podcast recently, I heard a single woman in her twenties lament how hard it is to come from a small family and no church community because it is difficult to find mentors whose lives center on faith and family. Holidays are particularly lonely for single people, and many of them have never experienced a large family meal. An older woman on the podcast wisely encouraged all Christian families to invite single people over for Christmas.  

Religious individuals are an exception to the broad trend of fewer marriages and smaller families. Wilcox, who is Catholic, has five adopted children and has three biological children. Large families often look to each other for support. But it’s important for large families to welcome single people into their homes, as the Wilcoxes did for me. Large families that trust in God’s providence witness to the fact that the suffering and sacrifice of raising children are nothing compared to the joy of a child’s gift of unconditional love. 

In a world where many people are advised to weigh the benefits of marriage and having children, being around kids teaches us to open our hearts to a child’s self-giving love that is unconditional. Even amid chaos, a child will often stop, look you in the eyes, and say, “I love you.” That unconditional “I love you” means something like, “It makes me happy to be with you just because you are my mom or dad.” Or in my case, it means “I love you just because you choose to play with me and pay attention to me.” Children easily pour love into anyone around them, instantly expanding our hearts. If we stop being around children, it’s no wonder the American heart is closing. 

Large families that trust in God’s providence witness to the fact that the suffering and sacrifice of raising children are nothing compared to the joy of a child’s gift of unconditional love.

 

Raising children comes with its burdens. However, it’s the most beautiful thing we can do because children bring love into even the most challenging situations. Despite the dread many adults may carry in their hearts about the future, children see the world as it truly is: full of beauty and mystery. A beautiful, mysterious world means the future is full of possibilities. 

Ultimately, I answered the panel’s question, “Why have children?” by sharing the answer from a graduate student I teach. Carrying her second child and trying to finish her master’s degree far away from her biological family (other than her husband and two-year-old daughter), she told me, “When you are expecting a child, you are aware that inside you a mystery is growing that will one day come out of you. Nothing is more exciting.” 

My student’s heart is wide open. She dreams of teaching orphans in Africa, where she is from. She knows our society ignores so-called unwanted children who are just as capable of giving and receiving love as anyone else. She knows God’s love can heal abandoned children. 

Throughout my life, I have held many babies, although none was my own. In doing so, I’ve come to understand the sentiment expressed by novelist Marilynne Robinson: to gaze into the eyes of a newborn is the closest we come to seeing the face of God. 

A newborn baby is utterly dependent on parents and community, yet children are the greatest natural resource in the world. Each new life that enters the world represents boundless opportunities. Each child I’ve held and each student I’ve mentored gives me hope for the future. Through loving others’ children as if they were my own, a childless woman like me has rejoiced abundantly by encountering the image of God alive in others. 

What do we sacrifice when we tell young people today to define happiness through something lifeless: a car, a trip, a degree, an abundant bank account? In reality, what greater joy is there than to embrace the mystery of a new life? What greater attraction, what greater reason to live, and what greater motivation to serve than to raise the next generation?  

Happiness is not an achievement; it’s a gift. Children are a blessing. My closing message to the panel’s audience was to forget your smartphones, ambitions, and quibbles with your neighbors. Take the risk, open your heart, and the boundless love of a child will move you to tears.  

Image credit: licensed via Adobe Stock.