As a mom of four kids and heavily pregnant with number five, I am often on the receiving end of two comments. The first is predictable and has grown more frequent the more children I have. Often, as I try to run errands with children in tow, I get a knowing look and a “Wow, you’ve got your hands full!” Perhaps this well-meaning commentary means to compliment a mom who is gracefully(?) picking out some lettuce with a handful of kids swinging on the cart beside her, but something about it always feels a little bit condescending, especially considering my husband never gets “You’ve got your hands full” but is instead lauded as “Super dad over here!” I have a handful of responses baked into my repertoire, my most used being to reply, “Full of blessings!”
Though not as frequent or predictable, the second comment comes most often when we are at Mass or a parish function with all of our kids and grates me more than the first: “What a good Catholic family!” For this one, however, I haven’t quite mastered what to say. “Thank you” feels arrogant, as if I am saying, “Yes, we are, in fact, a good Catholic family.” And chuckling and saying, “Sometimes,” though true, feels sort of creepy. So I usually give a half-hearted smile and try to just accept the compliment.
I appreciate that, in 2024, not every family shares an openness to life. Years ago, large families were more typical, and the shift toward a one- or two-child home, although not intrinsically evil, has simultaneously trended toward a general apathy or even antipathy toward children. However, the dilemma I have with being labeled as a “good Catholic family” is that it conflates holiness with fertility, a problem that can hurt both large and small families.
In hearing the “good Catholic family” comment, I confess I sometimes feel an inflated sense of self-worth. A piece of me—the piece that longs to hear that I am a good mom and serving God and my family well—puffs up with pride that the sacrifices I am making to my budget, my body, and my general lifestyle are not unnoticed. But there is such a danger for me in this arrogance. Wouldn’t it be grand if having a bunch of kids was all I needed to do to become holy? I wouldn’t really have to try to eliminate vices, be charitable to others, or work toward a deep spiritual life. Ultimately, the call of family life beckons us to know God and serve the Church by loving the people closest to us. Giving these children life is a start, but I am called to more.
I do believe that the Lord has given me these kids, both as a joy to my life but also as a means to growing closer to Him. Although some days can be overwhelming, I love having a brood of kids and am open to more down the road, God willing. And the more kids I have, the more I feel I have been drawn out of my selfishness and have tried to strive for virtue. But the gift of my children is just that—a gift. Sure, without embracing the Church’s call for an openness to life, God may have not been able to give me these blessings, but ultimately, my fertility has nothing to do with my merit.
Thankfully, God is not doling out sainthood based on a sliding scale of how many children we have. Many families larger than mine are witnesses to the beauty of the domestic church, but I know plenty of “good Catholic families” with fewer or even no children. For some, fertility struggles or child loss meant they were limited in their family size; others have prayerfully discerned that due to physical, financial, or psychological challenges for them or their other children that planned abstinence was prudent. They are people who go to Mass, pray frequently, love others, and strive to be Christians after God’s heart. And in fact, the holiest family—you know, the Holy Family—was not limited in their goodness by “only” one child.
I am still working out my response to the “good Catholic family” comment. Maybe something like “We are trying to be” is appropriate. (I am currently accepting feedback or suggestions.) But before we begin to assess the state of people’s hearts based on the number of kids they have (or the behavior, talents, and achievements of said kids), we can try to focus instead on imitating the Holy Family in our own homes, whatever state of life we are currently in. Their holiness and virtue existed because Jesus was at the center of their lives, because they were open to the will of the Father, because they treated their family and others with exceedingly great love. And isn’t that what we are all called to do?
