Culture is Keeping Cradles Empty
The Problem with Declining Birth Rates and the Stories Holding Us Back
Here’s some context. I read an article last week highlighting the latest data on U.S. birth rates, and it gave me pause. It pointed out that in 2023 the country hit one of its lowest birth rates in decades, since 1979 technically. Now, before you roll your eyes and assume I’m about to advocate everyone should go have giant families like mine, let me stop you. The truth is, I never imagined in my wildest dreams I’d be the dad to eight children. That was never our plan, and it definitely wasn’t something either of us aspired to. Honestly, if someone told me that was their plan, I’d want to sit down and make sure their head was on straight. This isn't about wanting to see more of myself in the world.
While anything about kids will catch my attention, what gave me pause and ultimately raised my concerns isn’t rooted in personal preferences. I’m legitimately concerned about the long-term impact we’re not thinking about. From a purely data-driven perspective, when fewer people choose to have children, or delay having them well into their thirties, we create a future with significant consequences. If we stay on this path, we’re going to experience economic strain, shrinking workforces, and generational gaps in care, to name a few. We’re building a culture that’s losing sight of something deeply human, creating and raising the next generation and the sustainability it brings.
Now, I love data, but we don’t make decisions based on data as much as we tell ourselves we do. Behind this major shift in numbers are stories, stories that shape decisions about whether or not to have children. One thing about having lots of kids is that it leads to lots of conversations with people about them. People ask questions as they wrestle with this very personal challenge, and in these conversations, I’ve noticed four recurring themes that are holding people back.
I want to share those stories because they’re stories that I also wrestled with. Now, I want to reiterate that I’m not trying to convince anyone to have kids. I’m not judging anyone who can’t. However, I feel compelled to speak into the cultural narrative with honesty, reflection, and a perspective shaped by a lot of experience.
As usual, if you enjoy hearing me talk about this off the cuff, you can check out my video on the topic. However, here are my more polished thoughts.
With that, let’s get to it.
Key Reflections
“If you think life ends when kids begin, you’ve misunderstood what life is really about.”
The cultural drumbeat is that we all need to “live your life first.” Travel. Build your career. Discover who you are. Enjoy as much freedom as possible. If you get your fill, then maybe consider starting a family. The thing is, I totally get it. Seriously, I do. I’m wildly independent and firmly held to this mindset until our first pregnancy shook my foundation. If I’m being honest, I even tried to hold on for a while after we started having kids. However, the older I get, the more I realize that mindset is built on the faulty assumption that kids usher in the end of your life. It’s built around the belief that kids shut down your identity, your independence, and your ability to enjoy things.
Now, there’s some truth to that. If you believe that life is primarily about you, then yes, parenting will feel like a loss. It will be the beginning of the end because kids won’t fit neatly into your narcissistic vision of the good life. However, that mindset is a mirage. Parenting doesn’t erase who you are; it expands it. From my worldview, living for yourself isn’t just unfulfilling, it’s completely meaningless. However, even if you don’t share that view, ask yourself honestly, “Has putting yourself at the center of everything ever delivered the kind of joy that lasts?” If you’re honest, you know the real answer. Satisfying yourself doesn’t leave you full for long.
Parenthood isn’t the end of your story; it might be the beginning of what matters most.
“If you’re waiting until you’re ready, you’ll be waiting forever.”
This story feels responsible and wise. “We’re not ready yet.” I hear it all the time from people who genuinely want to give their future kids a good life. Lots of people want to wait until they have a house, are more financially secure, and their career settles in. They want to wait until the chaos of the world calms down. Again, I totally get it; on the surface, it sounds wise. However, there’s a major flaw in this line of thinking. Your checklist is always changing, and the goalpost keeps moving. Just when you think you’re about to arrive, something else pops up that makes you feel not quite ready. Underneath it all is a subtle fear: What if I can’t give them everything they need?
Let me challenge your righteous conquest a bit with a question. Who defined what “ready” means? What’s really on your list, who wrote it, and how do you know for sure? Most of the time, I’ve found people are measuring themselves against an imaginary standard created by influencers, family, culture, or our own anxious expectations. The truth is, there isn’t an “ideal life” you need first before you slot kids in. You build a life with them in it. That’s what makes it real. Kids aren’t a capstone to a well-ordered existence; they’re part of the messy, meaningful life you’re meant to live. It may feel counterintuitive, but it’s easier to grow your life around kids than to retrofit them into a manicured version of adulthood that never materializes.
Here’s the truth. You’ll never be “ready.” And, that’s okay. You don’t need to be. You need to be humble, present, and willing to grow. That’s all kids really need.
“Your past doesn’t disqualify you from being a parent, but it does demand you face it.”
For some people, the decision not to have kids isn’t about freedom or finances. It’s about fear. Fear of repeating the past. Of passing on pain. Of recreating the dysfunction they’ve worked so hard to escape. I know that because it was a large contributor to why I didn’t want kids. I grew up in a deeply broken environment and for many years was convinced the safest, healthiest path was to avoid kids altogether. I wanted to eliminate any possibility of continuing the cycle or having old wounds open up, and not having kids at all seemed like a reasonable solution.
Now, let me be clear, I’m not here to tell you to disregard your concerns. If you’ve experienced trauma, loss, abuse, or dysfunction, you need to deal with it. Because if you don’t, it will show up. It may look different, but it will surface in your words, your reactions, and your parenting. Unaddressed pain doesn’t stay buried; it leaks. However, your past doesn’t have to define you, and it definitely doesn’t have to define your kids. I won’t pretend it’s easy, and it will require real work. It might mean therapy, boundaries, honesty, and sometimes letting go of people. However, that work opens a door to do something powerful. It gives you the chance to raise kids in an entirely different way than you experienced. Not perfectly, but redemptively.
I promise you don’t have to have it all figured out or avoid kids altogether. You just have to be willing to face what’s behind you so it doesn’t own what’s ahead.
“The hardest things in life often become the most meaningful, if you’re willing to give yourself fully to them.”
Many people I encounter, even those open to the idea of having kids, often have a lingering question that haunts the idea. Is the sacrifice, expense, effort, energy, sleep deprivation, lifestyle changes, and long days and longer nights really worth it? It’s a completely reasonable question, and it’s one I’ve asked myself many times and probably will many times more. Honestly, if you traveled back in time and told my 20-year-old self I’d be the father of eight kids, I would’ve laughed you out of the room. There’s no way I’d ever believe that not only could I do it but that I’d love it. I would not be able to fathom that being a dad would become one of the greatest joys of my life.
And yet, here I am telling you otherwise.
Now, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. There’s no point in sugarcoating that. Parenting will stretch you in ways you never thought possible. You’ll feel like you’re failing more often than you’re succeeding. However, if you stay humble, present, and keep showing up, it will grow you in ways nothing else can. Oh, and people don’t talk enough about the fact that kids don’t stay little forever. I’m still not there yet, but I’m already seeing it start to happen. I’m already discovering that if you’ve done the work to love them well, they become some of the most meaningful, life-giving relationships you’ll ever have. They become more than your children; they become your friends, the kind of people you’ve built something lasting with.
So is it worth it? If life is all about you, probably not. But if you’re willing to live for something infinitely bigger than yourself, then yes. A thousand times, yes.
Concluding Thoughts
Congratulations and thank you. You’ve made it to the end of another of my musings. I recognize this article might have been difficult for some people to read, especially if you’ve struggled to have kids or are unable to. If that’s you, I want you to hear this clearly and sincerely: you are not less than. Your life is not incomplete. You can live a deeply meaningful, rich, purpose-filled life without children. I never want to shame or guilt anyone into changing their mind if they feel strongly that kids aren’t the right path, even if they can.
I hope it’s very clear that this article wasn’t about pushing parenthood on the world. I just couldn’t help but share my experience, especially given how unexpected it is, in an attempt to push back on a culture that increasingly sees kids as a burden, a barrier, or a detour from a meaningful life. What I will say confidently is that narrative is not just misleading; it’s dangerous. I fear that narrative is robbing people of the chance to experience one of life’s most profound relationships, and it’s simultaneously eroding the foundation of the future we’re all building.
So, if you’re in a position to have kids, I’d encourage you to think deeply. Let’s not think reactively or fearfully but step back and think honestly. It’s the kind of decision you need to make based on the full picture, not a filtered version shaped by influencers, fear, or unrealistic expectations. So, while you don’t have to listen to me, please don’t let one of the most important decisions of your life be made by the wrong voices.
Oh, and even if parenting isn’t your path, never underestimate the power of investing in the lives of children. Those tiny humans are our future. Whether you’re the one birthing and raising them or simply showing up for them, our world desperately needs more adults who care.
So, regardless of where you land, I hope this challenged you in the right way and ultimately led you to live with greater purpose. Because the future doesn’t build itself, we all build it together, one life, one choice, one generation at a time.
With that, I’ll see you on the other side.
You inspire me to be a Dad someday, hopefully in the next 2-3 years. Thanks for sharing your wisdom!
I've had nine children (biologically) and raised an extra four alongside them and I also never ever imagined that this was how my life would look. My youngest is six now, my oldest is 29. The best thing for me has been to see my children marrying young and welcoming children despite the hardships (if you can call them that) of growing up in a house with many children. That they have seen the choices we've made and not outright rejected them makes me feel like I did okay, haha.