This First Person column is written by James Morrison, who lives in New Westminster, B.C. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ.
“When do you want to start trying?” my wife asked with a hint of anticipation — but also an undertone of worry — in her voice.
It was a conversation we’ve had many times, familiar like a well-worn path within the garden of our minds. And it always leads to the same place.
This time we were sitting on our deck after dinner, looking out at a beautiful view of the Fraser River while our little one slept inside. The conversation about having a second child is bittersweet. We’d both grown up with siblings and had always known that we wanted at least two children in our own family, but what we wanted to do and what felt responsible wasn’t always the same.
“Can we afford it?” I asked.
We rent a two-bedroom high-rise apartment in the Lower Mainland of B.C., and while it’s nice for now, we both know that little kids don’t stay little forever and that sooner or later we would need to start looking for more space.
That question — can we afford it — weighs heavily on me.
I grew up in Vancouver and followed all the conventional wisdom my parents taught me about planning for the future: save your money, go to university and have a good work ethic. Do this and everything will turn out for the better, they said. A reasonable, small-c conservative approach, right?
I proceeded to live my life with those guiding principles. I did well in high school, went to the University of British Columbia immediately after graduation and obtained my bachelor’s degree four years later. I worked a few jobs, none of them glamorous, but I worked hard and saved my money. I lived within my means in a tiny basement suite for nearly a decade, didn’t own a car and never spent money on extravagances.
When I landed a better job — one I could call a career — I didn’t change my lifestyle that much. I instead took the opportunity to further pad my savings and grow my bank account. I didn’t have any debts. Not bad, right? Seems like that conventional wisdom was paying off, or so I told myself.
What I hadn’t accounted for was the meteoric rise of housing costs, first in Vancouver, then across Canada.
My first awareness of the housing bubble came around 2010 when I was in my final year at UBC. The prices were high — so high that every talking head on TV and radio guaranteed that they wouldn’t last.
Fast-forward nearly 15 years, the bubble hasn’t burst, but instead it has grown to hot air balloon proportions.
I’m still living by my parents’ guiding principles: I’m 36 and I have a good job. I’m also happily married with a 1 ½-year-old and I still live within my means. Financially, my wife and I are doing OK since we don’t have any debts and a decent amount of money in the bank. The place we rent has a great view, is close to amenities and groceries and comfortable for our family of three.
But even so, I don’t know if we can afford a second child if we stay in the Lower Mainland.
In our neighbourhood, it’s not uncommon to see two-bedroom apartments listed for nearly $800,000. It would take every last penny of money that we possess to afford a down payment comparable to the apartment we rent, let alone a townhouse or detached home that we feel could support a growing family. If we do that, we would be living paycheque to paycheque on our two full-time public sector salaries and praying to whichever higher power will listen that interest rates, strata levies (B.C.’s version of condo fees) and emergency maintenance on our one car don’t punt us over the edge.
It doesn’t feel like the best plan for adding more kids to the picture.
I can hear the criticism some would throw our way. “So what? Many people have to make do with small spaces. You just need to check your privilege and learn to live with it.”
To that, I’d respond: Isn’t it the right of every parent to wish to raise their children to an equal or better standard than they themselves were raised?
We’ve even considered moving to another province where housing costs are lower. Alberta and the Maritimes hold a lot of appeal, but they all lack one thing: our family. All of our relatives live in the Lower Mainland. Is it justifiable to make my second-born child grow up not knowing their grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins just so that we can have the privilege of home ownership?
Do we want a Canada where raising a family in the city you grew up in is an exception and not the norm? Can we no longer tell our children that working hard and saving their earnings is the right thing to do?
All these thoughts swirled in my head as I contemplated my wife’s question about having a second child now.
“I don’t know,” was my honest answer, I said with a smile and shrug. “But I am willing to find out.”
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