The Moment
If we want more families to have children, what kind of country are we asking them to raise those children in?
Every few weeks, another headline appears: “We need to have more children!” “The birth rate is declining.” “We may need to import people if we don’t have enough children.” The conversation usually ends there, but mine didn’t.
The headlines suddenly became personal.
I realised I stopped hearing pregnancy announcements simply as celebrations and started asking questions about:
Leave
Health insurance
Doctors
Hospitals
Finances
Picture this. You’re 29. You’ve done the standard Jamaican version of what you’re “supposed” to do. You finished high school, found a stable job, and met someone you love. You’ve been together for 10 years. Yet every year ends with the same conversation.
You earn upwards of JMD 64,000 per month. Your partner earns upwards of JMD 100,000 per month. You want to get married, but with unexpected expenses constantly arising, you haven’t even been able to afford an intimate wedding.
Your friends and family constantly ask when you’re going to have a child together. You and your partner have sat down on several occasions, looked at your combined monthly income, expenses, and earning potential, and realised that having a child in your current reality would mean constantly deciding which need has to wait until next month.
JMD 164,000 per month hardly feels sufficient to sustain two adults, let alone two adults and a child.
It’s 2026, and Jamaica’s Minister of Health is pleading with Jamaicans to have more children. Yet many people in circumstances both better and worse than yours still aren’t having them.
A question that wouldn’t leave my mind was: Are people waiting because they don’t want children?
I don’t think so anymore.
I think many are trying to build the life they believe their child deserves.
I. The Country We’re Building
Total annual births in Jamaica recently fell below 30,000—a dramatic decline from the more than 60,000 births recorded annually in the 1970s. According to data from the Planning Institute of Jamaica (PIOJ), Jamaica’s population grew by just 600 people in 2025, bringing the total population to 2,764,200.
It was the kind of headline I’m sure many Jamaicans shared on Instagram before it eventually became another nine-day talk. But the real question is: What changed between the generation of the 1970s and our current generation to cause such a drastic shift?
Statistics tell us what changed, but not why.
There’s a common Jamaican saying: It takes a village to raise a child. But what happens when much of that village is overseas?
Emigration continues to strip Jamaica of members of its working-age population. In 2025, Jamaica recorded a net migration loss of 7,000 people, effectively wiping out 92% of the natural population increase from births minus deaths.
When Jamaicans hear the word migration, we often think of opportunity.
But when a mother leaves her child in Jamaica to seek better income overseas so she can give her child—or children—a “better life,” or a family moves a grandparent overseas to have them closer, what happens to the village left here to help raise a child?
Jamaica’s Total Fertility Rate (TFR) has fallen to 1.33 children per woman, placing the country well below the population replacement level of 2.1.
Do people really want fewer children? Or, after having one, are some realising that having another would be financially and emotionally unsustainable?
Are they choosing to have only one child, or are they struggling to recover from the first one?
II. The Cost of Saying Yes
The average age at childbearing has climbed to 28.0 years, highlighting a delay in starting families. However, teen pregnancy remains a factor, with roughly 12% of births occurring to mothers aged 15–19.
Waiting has become part of modern adulthood, but what are people actually waiting for?
Women are increasingly delaying having children, but what are they truly waiting on? Housing? Financial stability? Marriage? Better healthcare?
Maybe it’s not so much about a lack of desire, but rather a feeling of not having enough.
So I ask you: What does “being ready” look like for you?
Early childhood care is a major financial strain. Private childcare and babysitting can range from JMD 650 to JMD 1,000 per hour, while employing a dedicated live-out or live-in nanny can cost anywhere from JMD 70,000 to JMD 250,000 per month.
If our children are our future, then why isn’t childcare considered part of our economic infrastructure? Why does the cost of childcare fall almost entirely on the family?
Every child eventually contributes to society, so why doesn’t society contribute more to the cost of caring for them?
Real estate and rental costs have also risen, increasingly pricing the typical middle-class Jamaican out of starter homes. A home represents stability and security—two things many people seek before even considering having a child.
But can families confidently build a family when they cannot confidently secure a home?
III. The Systems Families Rely On
Jamaica’s public health infrastructure faces significant challenges. While basic public healthcare is free, maternal mortality remains a persistent concern, hovering above 100 deaths per 100,000 live births.
Trust is difficult to measure.
Does the average Jamaican woman feel safe enough to rely solely on the public healthcare system throughout pregnancy?
I know women who have taken out loans just to ensure they could give birth at a private institution.
If the government wants us to “trust the system,” then why does the system continue to fail some of the very people being asked to depend on it?
While public-sector employees receive paid maternity and paternity leave, benefits in the private sector remain inconsistent.
We can’t all work in the public sector.
And if some men receive only a few weeks of paternity leave—or none at all—aren’t we reinforcing the idea that caregiving is primarily the mother’s responsibility?
Someone once said that music isn’t only in the notes, but also in the silence between them. I wonder if policies work the same way.
Policies don’t only determine how long parents can stay home. They quietly communicate what a society believes caregiving should look like.
Each statistic pointed in a different direction, but they all led me back to the same question:
What does it take to raise a child in Jamaica?
What Does a Family Actually Need?
If you were considering having a child right now, these are some of the questions I would have for you.
Financial Readiness
Do you have an emergency fund?
Are you both covered under each other’s health insurance plans?
Do you have life and critical illness insurance?
Do you have adequate health insurance?
If you’re unable to produce enough breast milk, are you financially prepared to buy formula for your baby’s first year?
Do you have money set aside for clothing as your body changes throughout pregnancy?
Healthcare
Do you have money for private healthcare if you need or prefer it?
Do you trust your doctor?
Do they listen to you?
Support
Have you considered daycare?
Can you afford a nanny?
Would you be comfortable trusting someone you don’t know in your home?
Will your partner cook and help care for you during the postpartum period?
Are your parents, grandparents, relatives, or other trusted people around to support you?
If your child has special needs, do you have the support and resources necessary to navigate that reality?
Workplace
Have you been working at your job long enough to qualify for maternity or paternity benefits?
Do you qualify for maternity or paternity leave?
If you plan to breastfeed for your baby’s first year, will your workplace accommodate that?
Will you have adequate time and privacy to pump at work?
IV. Behind Every Statistic
Let’s think about these people:
1. A woman who is nine months pregnant goes to the pharmacy to purchase her prenatal vitamins, only to discover that they’re out of stock.
She gets back into her vehicle, swollen feet and all, and drives to another location. They don’t have them either.
After visiting two more pharmacies, she finally finds one with just 16 individual tablets available, even though her prescription requires a 28-day supply.
Should an expectant mother have to worry about whether medication and supplements necessary for her health and her baby’s development will be available?
2. A husband and wife decide to try for a child. After becoming pregnant, the wife becomes so ill that she hasn’t been able to work for more than a month.
She has exhausted all her paid time off and now risks losing part of her monthly income because she is simply too ill to return to work.
Should families have to choose between protecting their health and protecting their income?
3. A couple considers sending their child to a highly regarded public primary school. After seeing approximately 40 children in one classroom, they decide to make the financial sacrifice of sending their child to a preparatory school where the class size is smaller.
Should families have to sacrifice significant portions of their income for private schooling because of overcrowding in public schools?
4. A husband and wife have been trying to conceive without success. They consider seeking treatment at a fertility clinic but realise they cannot afford the entire process.
Could more be done to make fertility treatment financially accessible to Jamaican families who need it?
None of these situations is particularly unusual, and that is exactly why this conversation matters.
V. The Questions We Ask Before We Say Yes
I spent several months reading conversations across TikTok, Instagram, X, Threads, YouTube, and Facebook.
What surprised me wasn’t that people didn’t want children.
What I kept hearing was:
Not under these circumstances.
The same themes appeared again and again:
Stability
Support
Healthcare
Childcare
Community
VI. Here’s What I Keep Coming Back To
Somewhere between the social media posts, scrolling through comments, reading articles, and listening to the women around me, I realised I had been asking the wrong questions.
What surprised me most was that Jamaicans weren’t only voicing their dissatisfaction; they were also suggesting potential solutions.
And that made me wonder whether, for many people, the desire to have children is still there.
Initially, I believed people weren’t having children primarily because of financial constraints. I now realise that may be one of the biggest misconceptions surrounding this conversation.
It goes much deeper than money.
It’s community.
It’s support.
It’s consideration.
It’s trust.
And so much more.
I realised that people are talking, but I’m not sure the government is listening.
And that leaves me with more questions: Are people speaking in the right forums? Are their suggestions being heard? And are the solutions being proposed sustainable?
At the beginning of this entry, I asked:
What kind of country are we asking families to raise children in?
I expected to find solutions.
Instead, I found stories—stories about delayed dreams, financial struggles, a lack of support, difficult choices, and sacrifice.
Perhaps the conversation was never simply about the effects of Jamaica’s declining birth rate or convincing people to have more children.
Perhaps it was about creating a country where saying “yes” to raising a child feels possible.
Question to Carry
What would have to change for you to confidently say, “I’m ready”?
Before You Close the Journal 🤎
Did this entry leave you with a thought?
What resonated with you? What do you see differently? What would you add to the conversation?
Until Next Sunday,
Zu
