Issue #327 / June 2025

I think it’s incredibly challenging to bring a child into the world in this day and age. Are you a natalist?

STERLING, FORT WORTH, USA

My adult only son, born in 91 – me a 17-year-old mum then – has triple confirmed he and his long-term partner won’t be having children.
I support, and accept, and love. But what will I do with eternity? I have four degrees, the crow caws, I go to work, my friend buys me a beer, we watch the street bustle. Never thought about eternity when I was 17, who knew?

ERIN, SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

Dear Sterling and Erin,

It is difficult to be a parent, let alone a grandparent, without being a natalist to some extent. Mostly, I believe that having children is a positive moral good because they add, by their very presence, value to the world. I have heard the many reasons people cite for choosing not to have children – that it is wrong to bring a child into this terrible world, that they are too costly, that they disrupt careers, that they hinder freedom and realisation of one’s true self, that having them is ruinous to the body, that we are at risk of overpopulation, that children are detrimental to the environment, that they are patriarchal instruments of oppression, that they are messy, that they are annoying, that motherhood is yuck, that fatherhood is boring, and so on. I appreciate these arguments and understand that many people lead extremely beneficial and fulfilling lives without feeling the need to have children. I also acknowledge that not everyone has the choice. However, I think that if we are to attribute any value to the future of the world and invest in its continuance, we must keep on populating it. Children are indicators of our faith in the world itself, they are emissaries of optimism, charging into the future with their pockets full of hope. So, yes, Sterling, the more, the merrier.

Erin, I have read hundreds of letters from grieving parents and have written about this matter many times. Yet, I don’t believe I have encountered a letter that articulates so beautifully and powerfully the very real grief – one that is rarely discussed – not of a child passing, but of a child not born. I admire that you ‘support and accept and love’ your son, for, of course, this is what we do, regardless of how regrettable our children’s decisions may be to us. Nonetheless, the sense of loss within your words is palpable. I found your haunted, stoic account of your day, rolling into eternity, extremely affecting.

But of course, eternity is more than progeny. It is also measured by what we contribute to the world during our allotted time. It is enriched by the good we do, for each of us is responsible for shaping our own destiny and filling that time with meaning and momentum. Our love for the world, and our concern for it, keep eternity wide and bright and full of potential as our actions reverberate into the future. Regardless of the regrets we may encounter, the disappointments and tragedies, it is our spiritual duty to cherish the world around us.

Many will resonate with your words as they too feel the pang of eternity, Erin. Thank you very much for your courageous and honest letter.

Love, Nick

 

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