I say that because 2005 was the same year that Michelle Duggar gave birth to her 16th child.

The backlash against Duggar was as swift as it was nasty.

"She needs to be forcibly spayed," wrote one commenter.

"This right here is why we need a one-child policy, like China," wrote another.

I feel pity for their husbands.

I made the mistake of speaking up in defense of Duggar.

Being pro-choice, as I regrettably was back then, I believed that if women had a "right to choose" not to have children, they also had the right to choose to have children, and — certain circumstances notwithstanding — as many as they wanted.

For that, I was told that I too needed to be fixed like a dog, and the women said they hoped I would be infertile so I wouldn't "breed" too many kids.

One of the biggest and most ridiculous arguments I saw then was not just that parents couldn't afford that many kids, it was that parents couldn't possibly love all those children.

That's rearing its head again, it seems.

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.

https://t.co/LR0RN0zd8Y— Rebecca Reid (@RebeccaCNReid) March 1, 2026 I have no idea who Hannah and Daniel Neeleman are, but they are about to welcome their ninth child.

Congrats to them; babies are a blessing.

But I also know that Reid doesn't know the Neelemans, either, and cannot possibly come to the conclusion that they — or any parent — is incapable of loving more than two children.

I know this, because I have three myself.

The notion that children cannot get "adequate" time, attention, and connection with their parents if there are "too many" of them is false on its face.

Every single child is different, and every single child has different needs.

My eldest is quiet and analytical, loves politics and baseball, and has a sense of humor as dry as the Sahara.

My middle son is loud, boisterous, and a high-functioning autistic who loves to burst into song.

My youngest loves the Titanic, assumes everyone he meets is his friend, and won't let me throw away junk mail if it's got cute pictures of animals on it.

With each birth, my capacity for loving them grew because a parent's love is not finite.

There isn't a maximum limit of love that one....