The Business of Raising Children

Featured

Jun 19

When I returned home from my baby shower, a plethora of gifts in tow, I was, though grateful, overwhelmed. At the time, my husband and I lived in a small apartment in an old house without closets, so we were already wanting for storage space. As we lugged, among other things, a baby bathtub, stroller, bouncy seat, and an abundance of diapers up the creaking steps of our place, I thought to myself: will I really need all of this? At the same time, I couldn’t help thinking of other things I might want or need for my child.

Some of the items I believed necessary when I was assembling a baby registry – such as a bassinet, bassinet sheets, a bouncy seat, and multiple sets of swaddle blankets – did not, in fact, turn out to be useful. While most of the baby gear I received has been helpful in welcoming my daughter into the world, much of it was unnecessary, even though I presumed otherwise beforehand.

My incorrect assumptions have caused me to wonder: do we overestimate or misrepresent the necessities for childrearing? How does our materialist culture influence the way we go about raising a child? And how might we straighten out any twisted notions we have as a result?

Certainly, quite an industry has sprouted up around having and caring for a baby. One need not look far to get a sense of the wide variety and popularity of luxury baby items on sale today – such as the “Snoo” bassinet, a $1,700 smart bassinet that rocks a fussy baby to sleep, or the Uppababy stroller set, also around $1,700. It seems that every baby item imaginable – bassinets, carriers, pacifiers, seats, strollers – has a hundred different iterations. It seems, too, this is simply taken for granted by women of our day, as we readily research the very best strollers and blankets and shell out several hundred dollars here and there and everywhere, or ask our friends to do so for baby shower gifts.

The Baby Bonus

Recent public discourse has dwelt on the cost of children, as President Trump’s administration has heralded talk of a “baby bonus.” The White House is considering offering new parents $5000 after a child is born in order to boost the country’s declining fertility.

Many publications have aired various opinions on the idea of a “baby bonus,” and many critics call attention to the fact that raising a child requires exponentially more than $5000 – labor and delivery alone cost around $18,000 without insurance coverage, so $5000 would likely not entice those who would otherwise elect not to have children to do so. Others, such as scholar Leah Sargeant, have argued that a modest baby bonus could provide support for parents as they make decisions in the early days of caring for their child. Sargeant implies that a baby bonus would not necessarily reverse our culture’s fertility decline, but it could support and thereby encourage parents.

My purpose here, however, is not to debate the efficacy of the baby bonus but rather to consider the perceived cost of having a child in our day, and the forces that underlie such perceptions.

As my own experience with baby shower gifts attests, it’s easy for women to accept the idea that they need the best baby gear for a smooth experience with their newborn, but, in reality, some of that gear is simply a burden. Perhaps this same principle applies to childrearing on a broader scale: perhaps we think wrongly about the cost and purpose of raising children. Perhaps we overestimate the things that all children, not just babies, need.

What Do Babies Need?

One glaring example of this is the technology so often sported by today’s children: often when my husband and I eat at a restaurant, a family with young children sups near our table while tablets in colorful cases or other similar devices entertain several, if not all, of their children. Such technology is so widespread that some have nicknamed Generation Alpha the “iPad kids.” Not only are such expensive personal technological devices unnecessary for young children’s entertainment (books are a much cheaper alternative), but they are also verifiably unhealthy, as shown by the work of psychologists like Jonathan Haidt.

Another example of this is extracurricular commitments. In today’s culture, many families pile a variety of expensive activities atop one another, activities which not only hinder the parents’ finances but also, potentially, their familial health. Travel soccer practice is followed by debate practice and cello practice and dance practice, along with obligatory weekly tutoring and therapy – and family dinner or time together is the last priority. Such extracurricular activities are often accompanied, too, by an exorbitant amount of money and time spent on schooling itself, from day care and preschool programs to private schooling.

As in the baby gear industry, so too in the business of raising children – materialism and consumerism dominate. “More is better” seems to be the regnant attitude, and the significance of free, imaginative play and simple family fellowship – which are, of course, light on the wallet but come at a higher personal cost to the parents – has all but been crowded out by the cultural demands that children receive unhindered technological stimulation, extensive and exceptional athletic outlets, superior academic training, and unlimited “opportunities” in order to become the most happy and productive adults possible.

Assembly Line Living

Historian and author Nadya Williams discusses this trend in her book Mothers, Children, and the Body Politic using the idea of an “assembly line life.” The modern mindset of consumerism has influenced childrearing, Williams argues, in that parents desire to produce productive, perfect, well-rounded children according to the standards of their own liking, and they are more motivated in their parenting choices by this desire than by an understanding of their children as fellow creatures and image-bearers of God who need to be nurtured and shepherded. Williams sees even schooling as a part of this “assembly line life,” in that parents often outsource some of their duties as parents to schooling “experts,” operating under the assumption, again, that more is best for their family.

It goes without saying that some of the aspects of the “assembly line” are important and necessary for children – it is good for children to be educated and to exercise. Not all schooling and extracurriculars are wrong, of course; neither are all toys and technology inappropriate. But it is the overabundance of these things and the perceived purpose – the assembly line life, as Williams puts it, a life that treats human beings as objects to be optimized – that often is wrong. It is the materialist mindset underlying such choices that is both incorrect and harmful.

Materialism would tell us that the primary cost of having a child is a financial cost, not a personal cost of self-sacrifice. Materialism would tell us, too, that having a baby is beyond the financial capacities of ordinary people, and raising them even more so – not to mention having and raising multiple! In a materialist culture a $5000 baby bonus is, of course, considered inconsequential. Minimalism is not necessarily the answer to the excesses of materialism, but an embrace of simplicity wherever possible and a reframing of the purpose of having and raising children represent a good place to begin.

Child-rearing and Fellowship

One of the reasons why our culture insists that more is better, that the assembly line life is necessary, is our widespread lack of the moderation and wisdom provided by fellowship, and particularly the generous fellowship of the church. We often don’t have respected older folk telling us that, in fact, the kid doesn’t need the iPad, and the travel taekwondo team might not be a good idea after all – and if we do have such voices in our lives, we often don’t listen.

The model for young people is to move away from their homes and communities of origin for school and work; as a result, they are naturally disconnected from older family members when raising children, and thus they often must entrust their children to strangers for childcare at a steep cost. What’s more, many young moms cannot receive the same level of wise council and help from older women that they might have received in former generations simply because women in former generations often lived close to family and were part of a cohesive community.

Our cultural loss of family closeness and of a “village” mindset in our locales is perhaps irreversible. But some of the effects of such loss can be ameliorated by religious community: the church allows families from entirely different places and backgrounds to become, by faith, related to one another. And thus wisdom and moderation can be imparted and received, and thus difficulties of raising children can be lightened. One instance of this is the practice of hand-me-downs: I bought very little maternity clothing because older moms in my church community showered me with used maternity clothes. Likewise, since giving birth to my daughter, I have purchased very few items of clothing for her because of the abundance of used clothing I’ve been given.

Generous fellowship such as this can provide an alternative frame of mind to the regnant materialist mindset – it is the mindset of giving and sharing and being grateful for what you are given. More than this, though, fellowship in a church community can teach us of the beautiful and often forgotten truth that, though they come with financial and personal obligations, children are not a burden but “a blessing from the Lord.”

Children will cost us – they will cost us our very selves. But that cost is worthwhile, for the very being of a child is a blessing.