Is the Pope right? Is it selfish not to have children?

Sometimes, I think having a child is the most egotistic thing in the world. When you have a child, you’re basically saying, I think the world deserves more people like me. It is of course, also something much purer: an expression of hope, a desire for a better future. But there is a noisome self-gratification evident in smug first-time parents who think the world revolves around their offspring, although, especially for the first few years, for them, it probably does.

It certainly did for me. Giving up first your body, them your time, and at times, your sanity for a reshuffled copy of you and your partner can be the biggest thing a layman comes to martyrdom.

There were times with my two young kids, frazzled by lack of sleep, food flung to the floor, another epic tantrum –  the twelfth that day –  and yet another teeth gritting rendition of Twinkle Twinkle for the umpteenth time that week,  I felt like one of those creatures you see on a David Attenborough documentary, sacrificing itself for it’s gelatinous offspring: a giant octopus, whose hands, in the meantime were fully occupied. My career hopes felt dashed, I was scraping by financially and I basically missed getting trollied with my mates.

But all was recoverable. Now my kids are almost old enough to fend for themselves and I yet again have some semblance of a life of my own, I miss that sense of self-satisfaction you get from centring your life on something bigger than yourself, for all I was weary at same the time.  But it left little time for other worthy endeavours. Like writing a book, having a social life, or protesting about high nursery costs, lack of available childcare and other things the government fails to do to make life just that bit more bearable for parents – although to be fair, since I had my kids, maternity and paternity leave has extended, and nursery palces are now offered to 40% of two year old. But compared to the epic self and financial sacrifice involved in raising a child to adulthood, it’s a drop in the ocean. It’s hardly surprising that in the developed world the birthrate is falling, often below replacement level, leaving tax revenues falling and the burden of elderly care teetering on top of society’s increasingly inverse pyramid. For most of us, a big family just doesn’t make much sense. A large gathering of children round the table is all very idyllic in a village in Tuscany, but in Tower Hamlets? Sorry but with such a premium on space, it would feels a little Benefits Street to keep cramming in more kids.

It’s hard to see why the powers that be would even consider raising the birth rate to be a vital policy in these overpopulated times – although the Catholic Church is a law unto itself in the contraception debate. I imagine it’s finances at the root of it, as it is with everything rather than a deep governmental regard for the wonderment of children (we know how the elites – from priests to ministers – treat them). Perhaps the establishment view is that if we all have our hands full with children, we’ll be too busy to start a revolution.

And this is the thing. I wish I could spend more time with the children I have, let alone those I don’t, but the way this world works, I can’t. We live in a world where the childless increasingly have a competitive edge over parents in the workplace. Long hours mean those without other commitments can put in extra, and in most white collar professions, overtime is just a thing you do to get the job done. I no longer feel awkward if I go out for a meal, and my child is howling or lacking body function control, or whining for my booby. Many places you go these days just aren’t geared up for a multi-generational experience, and I don’t want to spend all my meals put at Giraffe, or worse, McDonalds.

Alongside the creeping scrutiny over what constitutes a “good parent”, whether it’s the amount of homework prescribed by the Learning Trust, or feeling snooped on if you take a decision to briefly leave kids on their own or let them walk to school so you can get to work early, the nanny state makes parents feel stripped of their adult autonomy and sent back to a nursery prison of their own.

Add to that the state of the world. Overpopulation, squeeze on average wages, house prices the fecking 1 per cent. Isis. The threat of war. Ebola. Measles. It’s enough to make you wish you weren’t born. Let alone to bring a fragile baby into the word, with no immune system and 20 years of University fee inflation to get through before you’re shot of them, only to have them return 3 years later with no job and no way of getting on the property ladder.

So, to a Pope who thinks it’s a-okay to give kids a gentle wallop as long as their dignity is not infringed – his reasoning perhaps being that it’s not a bad idea to toughen kids up for a lifetime of hard knocks, jostling for position in an overcrowded world as is as much as many of them can expect – I say: in these difficult times, not having more children seems practical, not selfish. Unless they are one of the increasingly few lucky ones who are born with a silver spoon in their mouths.

I’ve thought long and hard about whether or not to bring other poor souls into the world, and I’ve concluded that when all is said and done, it’s not fair on them in the long run – and it’s not fair on me in the short term – although there may be a lovely bit in the middle where we can all go on roller coasters, which is where I’m currently at with my two existing children. But it’s also the bit where I come home from work exhausted to do their homework with them, and send emails to teachers about my asperger’s son who’s having a hard time at school. Given all the challenges we face, and how thin stretched I already feel, why on earth would I want to place a bigger burden on a society that seems to be fracturing at the seams? Though perhaps that’s through lack of nurturing a family dynamic.

So, I may look at my friends who’ve had babies recently, and feel just a touch of envy, or even broodiness at the new life they’ve produced, with all its possibilities (although I still don’t believe in free will, so there’s already some cognitive dissonance right there). But I also know that along with their bleeding nipples and bloodshot eyes, and all the tantrums, joy and the homework to come, they have a tough time ahead just giving their child the lifestyle that they themselves enjoyed as a child. And so, Pope Francis, my friend,that is the best form of contraception I can think of right now.