We have spoken about the inability of women to intuitively understand numbers before, in the context of women who seemingly accidentally rack up huge numbers, albeit not in their bank account. Much more consequential is that Western women no longer have a lot of babies, and the implications are indeed quite worrying.
Several months ago, during a visit of my parents, I bumped into the mother of a primary school friend of mine. We chatted a bit and she told me that her son is now married and has a kid. This is perhaps not that remarkable in itself. However, she has only had one child herself. Her son also only has one child and it does not seem likely that he will have another one. Thus, you can see how this family tree is not widening but narrowing. In contrast, occasionally you do come across larger indigenous families who have more than two children. Mainly they have three. Four or more is indeed quite rare. However, the difference in the number of grandchildren is startling. The underlying mathematics are trivial, but let us spell out some examples regardless: A woman with two children who all have two children themselves ends up with four grandchildren. If she has three, and her children also have three each, then there are already nine grandchildren. With four children who have a perhaps more realistic three children each, the number of grandchildren is 12. Now compare this to the previous case of there being only one grandchild. I also know of families with several children of which only one got married and had one child.
I think that women not having children is a very clear expression of a decaying society. With each generation, there are fewer and fewer children, which our politicians will use as an excuse to import even more African rocket scientists. The resulting societal changes are intended to discourage the indigenous population even further. Oftentimes, this dwindling of the native population is only considered as some kind of abstract phenomenon, which is quite misguided. Incidentally, my mother gave me a good example a while ago: she told me that an acquaintance of our family had died and the poor guy did not even make it past the age of 55. He was survived by his wife and one son who is in no particular hurry to have children. It was the wish of the deceased to be buried only in the presence of his closest family, meaning only his wife and son. This is a perfect expression of a withering family tree that is almost dead.
Contrasting the aforementioned example with someone who has eight or ten grandchildren is quite impactful as the number of descendants is a large multiple. This is what a healthy family tree looks like, and it is the kind of vigor and virility that keeps a nation and a people alive. I come from a pretty large family myself, but when I was much younger, I simply took this for granted. Now that I am getting older, I find some kind of vague comfort in knowing that I am part of a family line that has been growing rather than decaying.