Donald Trump has declared war on the great American birth dearth. Yes folks, the fertility crisis is here, and Donny’s got a plan: IVF for everybody! Cheaper drugs, TrumpRx portals, baby bonuses that probably won’t cover a month’s rent, and enough executive orders to make you think he’s personally fertilizing the nation like a farmer with a golden tractor.

Imagine Trump at the podium, saying, “We’re gonna have so many babies, you’ll be tired of babies! Beautiful babies, the best babies, believe me.” Meanwhile, the birth rate sits at 1.6 like a sad little protest sign, refusing to go up no matter how many times he tweets about it.

So the solution? Science! Tubes! Petri dishes! Because nothing says “traditional family values” like refrigerated children.

Trump’s throwing money and mandates at IVF like it’s the new wall Mexico was supposed to pay for. Discounts on fertility drugs! Up to $2,200 saved per cycle! Wow, that’s almost enough to cover one-fifth of the actual cost! It’s like trying to fix world hunger by handing out free appetizers at Olive Garden! Sure, people get a breadstick, but they’re still going home hungry.

And don’t get me started on the baby bonuses. Five grand for popping out a kid? That’s cute. Yeah, throw some cash at new moms and watch the strollers multiply. It’s the kind of plan that only makes sense if you think people decide to have children the same way they decide to buy a timeshare.

Here’s the thing, having a baby has never been, and will never be, a logical decision. It’s never cost-effective. It’s not an investment with a positive ROI, unless your retirement plan is “hope the kid becomes a TikTok millionaire and remembers Mom and Dad fondly.” It’s straight-up sacrifice, the kind where you voluntarily sign up to trade sleep, money, sanity, and any remaining shreds of personal freedom for 18+ years of tiny tyrants who will one day ask why you ruined their life by not buying them the sneakers everyone else had.

Kids are expensive. And that’s before college, before the surprise medical bills, before the endless “just one more thing” that turns into second mortgages.

Look, no spreadsheet in the world makes “add human dependent” pencil out as a win. You don’t have kids because the math checks out. You have them because something deeper overrides the calculator, something like love and faith that makes you look at a screaming potato and think, “Yeah, I’d die for you, my tiny chaos agent.”

It’s not logic. It’s sacrifice. Pure, irrational, beautiful sacrifice. You give up vacations, sleep, career momentum, date nights that don’t involve Goldfish crumbs in the bed. You trade “me time” for “we time.” You say yes to nights of puke, tantrums, orthodontist bills, and the soul-crushing knowledge that one day they’ll leave and you’ll miss their mess. It’s not cost-effective, it’s cost-devastating.

And until people rediscover the kind of love that laughs at spreadsheets; the kind that only Christ ignites, the self-emptying, cross-carrying, “greater love hath no man” love, I’m betting the cribs stay empty. Because no policy, no subsidy, no petri-dish miracle can manufacture sacrifice. Only hearts turned toward something eternal can choose the illogical path of welcoming life anyway.

The birth dearth isn’t a tech problem or a money problem at root; it’s a love problem. Fix that with Christ, and the numbers follow. Until then, we’re just paying premium prices for frozen hope.

No, the real fix isn’t in a petri dish or a government program. The only thing that ever reliably cranks out more children is more love. Real, stupid, sacrificial, get-on-your-knees-and-pray love. Without hearts turned toward something bigger than themselves, without marriages that aren’t just cohabitation with paperwork and tax breaks, IVF is just expensive cosplay. It’s science cosplaying religion, pretending a lab coat can replace grace. Trump can mandate all the embryos he wants, but you can’t force people to love enough to raise them. You can’t executive-order commitment, sacrifice.

So while the fertilization president fertilizes away, dropping discounts like confetti at a parade of sad, the birth dearth keeps winning. Because the cribs stay empty not for lack of technology, but for lack of souls on fire. Only a return to Christ changes things.

And if that doesn’t work? Well, at least we’ll have a lot of frozen embryos to argue about in court. Thanks, science! Thanks, Donny! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pray for a miracle. Either way, we’re doomed unless love wins, and love only wins when Christ does.