large families

Is the Declining Birth Rate a Real Problem?

Sue Fagalde Lick overpopulation, pronatalism , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Simone and Malcolm Collins have six kids and are hoping for ten, each produced by in vitro fertilization and delivered by C-section, because they believe the U.S. is heading for a crisis if people don’t start having more kids. 

A Washington Post article on the couple reports that the average fertility rate in the United States has not been above the 2.1 children per couple replacement rate since 2007, according to World Bank data. “Currently, no country in the developed world, barring Israel, has a fertility rate above replacement level, and, based on U.N. projections, by the end of the century, almost every country will have a shrinking population.”

They are not the only ones concerned that in the not-too-distant future, we will have empty schools and overflowing nursing homes with not enough people to do the work needed to run the world. The Collinses join a growing group of people, mostly firmly on the red side of politics, who decry the tendency to have fewer children as selfish and wrong. Today’s young people just want sex with no responsibilities, they cry. They play around until they’re too old to have babies. 

This, of course, ignores the many reasons people may not have children, including infertility, illness, lack of a willing or able partner, choice, and a wide range of situations that fall somewhere in-between.

Those favoring more baby-making include Vice President J.D. Vance, famous for his comments about childless cat ladies. “I want more babies in the United States of America,” Vance said at the March for Life on Jan. 24, in his first public speech as vice president. The Collinses are hoping to become part of a national “pronatalist task force.”

It’s a big change from the 20th century cry that our growing population would lead to disaster. Having too many people would destroy the land, and overcrowding would make life unlivable. Paul Erlich’s The Population Bomb was required reading when I was in school. Now, people are reading Empty Planet, about how our shrinking population is going to lead to big trouble.

Population growth has always been a cyclical thing.

One of my great grandmothers had 13 children. Another had seven. It was what people did back when most women saw few life choices beyond motherhood or the convent. Birth control and abortion were not easily accessible. If you had sex, you had children. 

Before the advances of modern medicine with its vaccines and antibiotics, many babies didn’t survive to adulthood, so it made sense to have more. I don’t know if any of my ancestors’ children died young. Everyone who knew them is gone now. But it seems likely.

My grandmothers each had two, plus one miscarriage each. Don’t ask me how they limited it. Who thinks about grandparents having sex?

My own parents married right after World War II, the height of the baby boom. With the war over, the world looked bright and shiny, the men had VA loans and GI bill money, and jobs were plentiful. It only took one income to buy a house and raise a family. So, they did. Two kids, sometimes three. My parents used condoms; my brother found them when he was snooping around. 

Values were different in those days. While married couples were expected to procreate and the only ones who didn’t were physically unable to, my parents made it clear pregnancy outside of marriage would RUIN YOUR LIFE. Girls who got themselves “in trouble” were shuffled off to a distant aunt or a home for unwed mothers to have their babies and give them up for adoption. Now, nearly half of babies are born to single mothers, and nobody cares. 

You’d think that would lead to more babies, but there are other factors. About the time I lost my virginity, birth control and abortion were becoming legal and obtainable. Women were moving into the workforce, demanding equal opportunities with men. Divorce became more common, sometimes leading to people marrying people who had already had their children and didn’t want anymore. 

It became quite possible for women to survive on their own without marriage and for couples to decide maybe they wouldn’t have kids. 

Fast forward to the grandchildren of the baby boomers. The birth rate has plummeted for many reasons. Young people are so busy finishing their education and building their careers they don’t get around to considering children until it’s too late. It costs so much to purchase a home they don’t know how they can possibly afford to raise families. Marriages may not last, the economy may implode, wars are happening, people are shooting children in the schools, and the climate is going nuts. Plus, no one can afford daycare.

In view of recent events, when so many people working at what seemed to be long-lasting government jobs are suddenly fired without notice, severance pay, or options for future employment, a lot of people are worried. If you’re not even sure you can support yourself, how can you support children? 

All of this leads me to wonder what will happen with today’s young people. How many will never have children because it just seems impossible? Will we see a new baby boom as the Maga wave washes away abortion rights and maybe goes after birth control next, as women and non-traditional couples see their equality fading away?

Or will the trend keep heading downward? Will people without children stop being the exception, the odd ones in the room who don’t have baby pictures to show? 

Is this all a lot of stewing about nothing? People will always have sex. Sex leads to babies, except when the body says no or we use some form of birth control. Contraception might become more expensive or more complicated to get, but it will be there. If you’re in a partnership where one wants to have children and the other doesn’t, changes in laws and availability may lead to more arguments but probably not to more babies. 

Nor will couples go back to the “Leave it to Beaver” lifestyle where the woman tends the home and children while the man earns the money. Nobody can afford it, and most women want their lives to include more than motherhood.

What do you think? Have you seen the attitude toward having children change? In what way? Do concerns about world population affect your decision in any way? What do you think it will be like twenty years from now?

Additional Reading

https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/pressroom/nchs_press_releases/2024/20240525.htm

Simone and Malcolm Collins want to make America procreate again – The Washington Post

Falling birth rates, why it is happening and how governments are trying to reverse the trend – Michigan Journal of Economics

Why birth rates are falling, and why that’s not a bad thing | Popular Science

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The Childless Elderwomen are having another online Fireside Chat on Saturday, March 29 at 1 p.m. PDT. The topic this time: “Eldering in a Time of Collapse.” I have to miss this one, but the rowdy “Nomo Crones” (nomo for Not-Mother) are sure to have some interesting things to say on this topic. Find out more and register at https://gateway-women.com/gateway-elderwomen.

If you enjoy the Childless by Marriage blog, you might want to visit my Substack, “Can I Do It Alone?” at https://suelick.substack.com. Many of the readers there have never had children. 

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Dare we ask for more than one child?

Sue Fagalde Lick childlessness, husbands who don't want children, second marriages , , , , , , ,

Shortly after I was born, my mother used to tell me, Grandpa Fagalde said, “Well, when are you going to have your boy?” Exhausted from giving birth, she wasn’t thrilled about the idea at that moment, but a year and a half later, she gave birth to my brother. Like most of the families on our block, our parents had two children, a boy and a girl. A full set. We fit perfectly in our three-bedroom baby boom houses in the suburbs of San Jose.

Fast forward to 2020 and the Childless by Marriage community. So many people here are hoping, praying and pleading to have a baby, just one, but I suspect we really want a full set, too, which means more than one.

If we only manage to have one, he or she would be an “only child.” Although lone children can thrive, happy to receive all of their parents’ attention, they will go through life without the companionship of another person who has exactly the same family history and who will be around for major family events. They might also provide nieces and nephews for you to cherish. God knows I would hate to have gone through the recent loss of my father without my brother. We were a team throughout that ordeal and he has handled the brunt of the estate management.

In so many situations we read about here, a person would be lucky to have a single child. The partner is already reluctant, or the body is not cooperating. If one sperm and one egg actually get together and if the pregnancy lasts the whole nine months and if the baby is born healthy . . . dare we ask for more than one? Should we just pray for twins?

Sure, having more than one child is double the cost and double the effort. My mother always said she sometimes thought she’d lose her mind those first few years with the two of us both in diapers and into everything while Dad was at work all day. But it was good for us. We always had someone to play with when other kids weren’t around. We fought a lot, but we were united against the world. Now that our parents are gone, we still have each other. I have always wished I had a sister, too, but Mom and Dad didn’t cooperate.

As Catholics, if they were following the rules, my parents would have had more children, but honestly most Catholic couples use birth control of some kind. As a working class family living off my father’s income as an electrician, they would have struggled to take care of a larger family. Two was enough for them.

Many of our readers have married someone who already has children from a previous relationship. So did I. Two of my friends in that situation had one more child together. For medical reasons, they could not have more. Others had more than one. I’m not going to say the children from the second marriage blended perfectly with the kids from the first. They did not turn into the Brady Bunch. They got along, but it was always clear they came from different tribes. But both partners in the marriage got the children they wanted; no one was left childless.

Back to the original question. While we’re asking to have one child, dare we ask for two—or more? What do you think? Are any of you “only children?” Do you wish you had a brother or sister? Would you like to have more than one child with your current partner? Dare you ask? Or would negotiations completely shut down if you went that far?

Driving down the road, I often follow cars with stencils on the back window representing their families. Have you seen them? There’s the mom, the dad, the multiple children and the dog. How many people would we like on our back-window stencil?

I look forward to your comments.

Interesting reading:

“The Rise of the Only Child,” Washington Post, June 19, 2019

 “The Truth About Only Children,” The Guardian, May 31, 2018

 

 

 

Which is worse, no kids or a dozen?

Sue Fagalde Lick books, childlessness, Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The novel I’ve been reading, A Place of Her Own by Janet Fisher, takes place in the 1800s. It’s based on the true story of a woman who came to Oregon by covered wagon and settled not far from where I live. The heroine, Martha, married at 15, has one baby after another, 11 in all. She’d probably have had more, but her husband died. I almost want to add “thank God.” He was an abusive SOB.

But that’s not my point. The story takes place in the 1850s and ’60s. Martha has no access to birth control, abortion doesn’t even occur to her, and there is no such thing as a vasectomy or tubal ligation. If you have sex–and her husband isn’t going to take no for an answer–you have babies. She spends the 21 years of their marriage either pregnant or nursing. Think about that. One baby after another, with no way to stop them from coming.

There comes a point in the novel where she has had two babies die in infancy and discovers she’s pregnant again. “I don’t want to have another baby,” she cries. She already has so many to take care of and she can’t stand the thought of losing another one.

Her husband treats her horribly, at one point beating her with a whip. She leaves him for a while and tries to divorce him, but discovers the laws at that time  allow him to take all of their seven living children away from her. So when he promises never to hurt her again, she goes back. She has two more babies.

Why am I telling you about this when you and I don’t have any babies at all? Think about how few choices women had back then, long before they earned the right to vote. When Martha, as a widow, went to buy land, the guy selling it preferred to deal with her 11-year-old son because he was male.

Only in recent times have we had any say about whether or not we would get pregnant and have babies or when we would have them. When I was born in the 1950s, abortion and birth control were not legally available. Nor did women have many career options. Most became wives and mothers. They started their families young, long before age-related infertility might be a factor. We never heard about spouses refusing to have children. I’m sure it happened but not nearly as often as it does now.

Today we have so many choices it’s frightening. We make those choices and then we wonder if we’ll regret them later, whether it be birth control, abortion, vasectomy, or committing our lives to someone who is not able or willing to make babies with us. In these days when divorce is common, we’re often the second or third spouse, and our partners have already created families with their exes. They’ve had their children, but we have not. They want us to be happy taking care of their children, but it’s rarely enough.

Sometimes I wish we didn’t have so many choices. Life was less complicated in the 1860s. But to be honest, I would no more want to have 11 babies and have two of them die than I would want to have none. Also, considering the lack of choices back in the 1800s (when my great-great grandmother had 13 children who lived), why would any of us let anyone else decide this most important life choice for us now?

What do you think about all this?

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Last week’s stepmom post has created quite a hot discussion. Take a look at https://childlessbymarriageblog.com/2017/01/12/he-already-has-his-kids-but-i-dont/.