The line at the supermarket was endless. People were irritated, children were crying, someone was arguing about the prices. In front of me stood a woman with exhausted eyes and a face that looked completely drained. Around her were five children. One was pulling at her sleeve, another sat on the floor, the youngest girl was begging for chocolate, and the oldest boy silently put groceries back on the shelf because there simply wasn’t enough money.

And do you know what shocked me the most?

Not the poverty.

Not the worn-out clothes.

Not the nearly empty cart.

But the way this woman looked at everyone around her… as if the entire world owed her something.

When the cashier quietly announced the total, she sighed dramatically and said out loud:
— In this country it’s impossible to live normally. The government should take care of large families.

People around us nodded with sympathy. Someone even paid for part of her groceries.

And I stood there feeling something completely different.

No, I feel sorry for the children. Deeply sorry.

But I can no longer automatically feel sympathy for adults who keep making the same choices over and over again… and then blame the entire world for the consequences.

These words will anger many people. I’ve already been called cruel, heartless, selfish. But no one wants to say out loud what thousands secretly whisper.

Why does someone choose to have a fifth child when they can barely feed the first four?

Why is responsibility now considered “judgment”?

Why does every question about common sense instantly turn into a scandal?

I grew up in a poor family. Extremely poor. Sometimes we had no electricity. My mother washed other people’s clothes by hand at night. My father worked nonstop and still hid his tears when there was no food left in the house.

But after living through all of that, my parents said one thing:
— We have no right to force a child to suffer the same life.

They stopped at one child. Me.

Not because they didn’t love children.
But because they understood the price of responsibility.

Today everything feels different.

Now people somehow think it’s normal to have children without a plan, without money, without stability, without even knowing how those children will live five years later. And then they post videos online saying:
“Please help us, we have nothing to eat.”

And thousands of people send money.

Again.
And again.
And again.

But nobody asks the main question:
Where is the line between misfortune and irresponsibility?

Recently I saw a story about a family with eight children. They lived in a collapsing house. Mold covered the walls. There was no heating. A little girl slept on an old mattress beside a damp wall.

And while journalists filmed this “heartwarming story,” the mother admitted she dreamed of having another baby.

I watched in complete shock.

Because children are not decorations. They are not a way to get benefits. They are not tools for gaining sympathy online.

They are human lives.

Real lives.

Every child deserves safety. Proper food. A warm bed. A peaceful childhood. Not constant stress, endless debts, screaming parents, and the feeling that they became just another burden in the house.

But try saying this out loud and people immediately call you a monster.

Society is terrified of honest conversations.

We’ve become used to romanticizing the suffering of poor families, as if simply having children automatically makes someone heroic.

No.

Sometimes it’s a story of love and incredible strength.
But sometimes it’s a story of irresponsibility whose consequences children will carry forever.

The saddest part is that children understand everything.

They notice when parents count every coin.
They hear arguments at night.
They see the lights being shut off.
They feel ashamed of their clothes at school.
They pretend they aren’t hungry so the younger ones can eat.

I know this because I was one of those children.

And that is exactly why I cannot pretend that poverty in large families is always something noble and deserving only admiration and sympathy.

Sometimes it is a tragedy created by the adults themselves.

Yes, there are illnesses.
Wars.
Job losses.
Terrible circumstances.

But when someone repeatedly makes choices knowing perfectly well their children will grow up in misery — why is everyone expected to pretend it’s only “bad luck”?

The most painful thing is society’s reaction.

The moment someone says:
“Maybe people should become financially stable before having children?”

A storm begins.

Because the truth is uncomfortable.

It destroys the beautiful illusion where all poor people are automatically saints and every difficult question is considered cruelty.

But children should never pay for adults’ mistakes.

Never.

And as long as society is afraid to admit that, more and more children will continue growing up not in stability and security, but in fear, hunger, stress, and hopelessness.

Many people will hate me after reading this.

But maybe someone, somewhere, will finally ask themselves the question they were always too afraid to say out loud:

What truly matters more —
simply bringing a child into the world…
or being able to give that child a достойную жизнь?