ROOKE: 26 Kids And Counting

Welcome back to Good Life, a newsletter about navigating our modern culture and staying sane in the process. This week, I tell stories about my childhood.

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I have three pregnant sisters right now. One with her first child, one with her seventh, and one with her eighth. By the end of the year, my parents will have 26 grandchildren. So watching the anti-big family ghouls come for Hannah Neeleman’s nine children has radicalized me.

Hannah has a large social media following on her “Ballerina Farm” accounts. Her videos follow her and her husband around as they raise their family and run their farming business in Utah. Shortly after she posted an ad for their new protein powder and simultaneously announced she was pregnant with their ninth child, the internet exploded. 

Author Rebecca Reid, who claims to be pro-natalist, went viral for criticizing Hannah’s decision to grow their family. 

“You cannot give nine children adequate time, attention and connection. You are, unquestionably, with nine children, spending less time with your children than a working parent with two kids,” she said.

A part of me understands that big families, unless you are part of a Catholic community, are an anomaly in our society. Of couples from my generation who are having kids, most are having just 2, MAYBE 3. The national average is about 1.6 children per married couple. So the idea of them having even 4 or 5 kids seems insane, much less nine. Still, their reaction to her family size is disordered. 

Truth be told. I feel bad for them for thinking this way. Having a large family is one of the greatest blessings my parents ever gave us. 

Summers were always the most fun. We weren’t allowed to just sit inside and veg out in front of the TV all day. We had a swimming pool and acres of land to run around on. He expected us to use them. And we did. 

I remember when the dollar movie theater opened up a couple of towns away from us. My dad would take us to see movies during the day while everyone else was working. We’d get popcorn and watch every kids’ movie that was out, even if we’d seen it before. Then we would reenact those stories at home. 

In our front yard, we had a massive willow tree. Naturally, after we watched Pocahontas, we’d all pretend to be her, singing the Grandmother Willow song while we swung from its branches. We built forts and established clubs. We voted on the hierarchy, even though unsurprisingly, the oldest siblings always won the races. We swam in the pool for hours and hours. 

Every minute of our day was spent together. 

You could look at this and claim that we were deprived of outside friendship or other relationships. But you’d be overlooking what they built by having us and raising us together like this. To this day, my non-family friendships have come and gone, but my sisters will always be there for me. 

When I am upset or excited about something, I immediately take it to our group chat. If I have questions about parenting, I turn to them. When I need encouragement or a slap in the face with reality, I know they are there to give it to me. 

We don’t always see eye to eye, which makes being part of a big family even more important. When we quarrel, it’s typically the sisters who aren’t involved who beg us to come to some sort of resolution. There is an unspoken agreement that no matter the situation, we will always find our way back home to each other. 

I know this is different for my friends who only have one or two siblings. When they tell me about their interfamily drama, there is no one who tells them to “cut the shit and apologize.” Sometimes their parents will be the ones to do it, but often I find myself in that position for them just because nothing makes me sadder than when siblings refuse to reconcile. 

Everything I have learned about conflict resolution and building relationships started by navigating my own with my sisters. I was taught how to handle strife and disagreements before I ever ventured out into the world. I had the opportunity to learn these lessons in the safety of my family, with people who loved me. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. 

You don’t know what you don’t know. And I think a lot of the criticisms big families receive are from people who are incapable of understanding the joy these families share. The money, attention, etc., all work themselves out. As parents, you figure out who needs what in that moment, and you give it to them. On any given day, that will look different, but the process stays the same. 

I couldn’t be happier that my sisters are pregnant, even if I am a little jealous that I can no longer have children of my own. I don’t look at them and wonder how they are going to do it all because I know they are capable. When I go to their houses and spend time with their children, all I see is love and smiling faces. And that’s all I see with Hannah Neeleman and her family. Much like my parents and sisters, they’ve given their family the greatest blessing in this world. 

The next time you see a mother out with her gaggle of children, instead of saying the snide comment about having her hands full, tell her how beautiful her family is. Let her know that she is a blessing and that what she is doing has a purpose greater than anything else. The world is a hostile place for big families, when it should be praising them for taking on the mission.

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