In the last few months, headlines have been quietly warning us: China’s birth rate is in freefall. For the second year in a row, the population has shrunk. And while policy changes have encouraged families to have more children, many are not responding. As someone who lived in China for over a decade—and as an adoptive parent who watched the system from both inside and out—I find these numbers deeply personal. They aren’t just statistics. They are people.
A Nation in Demographic Crisis
The latest data confirms what demographers have been warning about for years: China’s demographic crisis is accelerating. In 2024, China recorded its third consecutive year of population decline, with 9.54 million babies born compared to 10.93 million deaths, leaving the country with a population of 1.4083 billion—down 1.39 million from the previous year (South China Morning Post).
This represents a fertility rate of just 1.01 births per woman in 2024, compared to 2.51 in 1990—far below the replacement level of 2.1 needed for population stability (Think Global Health). To put this in perspective, China’s fertility rate now approaches those of Singapore (0.95), Taiwan (0.86), South Korea (0.73), and Hong Kong (0.73)—some of the lowest in the world (Bank of Finland Institute).
The projections are sobering. UN researchers forecast China’s population could fall to 639 million by 2100, while researchers from Victoria University and Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences project it could drop to approximately 525 million by 2100 at current rates (Demographics of China – Wikipedia). Current forecasts suggest China’s population will shrink by over 100 million people by 2050 (ChinaPower Project).
In response, the government has tried a number of incentives: ending the one-child policy, encouraging three-child families, and offering housing subsidies and parental leave benefits. More recently, China has mandated that hospitals provide epidural anesthesia during childbirth and expanded IVF coverage to 27 provinces (Think Global Health). But as many analysts have noted, the core issue is not policy—it’s pressure. Parenting in modern China has become prohibitively expensive, especially in urban areas, where the cost of education, housing, and healthcare makes larger families feel impossible.
Watching the Shift from Within
When we first moved to China, the one-child policy was still technically in place. We met countless families who had either navigated exceptions or quietly accepted the policy’s limitations. Over the years, we watched as the two-child policy was introduced in 2016, followed by the three-child policy in 2021.
But policies don’t erase decades of social conditioning. Most of our friends and neighbors still planned their lives around having one child—or none at all. The fear of not being able to provide the “best” for their children often outweighed the desire to grow their families. International experience suggests that comprehensive policies—like those implemented in France and Denmark, including high subsidies, universal childcare, and flexible work arrangements—tend to be more effective than China’s current piecemeal approach (Newsweek).
The End of International Adoption
Our family’s own adoption journey has been deeply intertwined with China’s population story. We began the process to adopt our second child from China in 2019. We were just months away from completing that adoption when the pandemic halted international travel and adoption. Then, on August 28, 2024, China officially ended its international adoption program (NPR).
This decision affected hundreds of families worldwide who had pending applications, some of whom had been matched with children for years and were just steps away from finalizing adoptions (NPR). The program, which began in 1992, had facilitated over 160,000 Chinese children being adopted internationally, with about half going to the United States (Holt International).
After five years of waiting, hoping, and watching a child grow up in photos, the door was quietly closed.
While I’m not ready to share the full story, I can say this: the grief is real. It’s a loss that goes beyond paperwork or plans. It’s the loss of a future we had imagined—one deeply connected to China, and to a child we will likely never meet.
What Does the Future Hold?
The economic implications of China’s demographic shift are staggering. China’s working-age population has been shrinking since 2012, and aging will reduce China’s per capita GDP growth by 10 percent over the coming decade—significantly harder than the 6 percent impact expected in the United States (Council on Foreign Relations).
The dependency ratio—the number of retirees supported by working-age adults—was 21.8 percent in 2022, meaning roughly five workers support one retiree. This percentage is expected to rise dramatically as the population ages (PBS News). In response, China began raising retirement ages in 2025 for the first time in decades, with men’s retirement age rising to 63 and women’s to 55-58, depending on their jobs, implemented gradually over 15 years.
Demographic experts warn that fewer young workers will be available to support an aging population. The pressure on children to care for parents and grandparents alone will increase. And countries that once relied on adoption to help vulnerable children may now see those children grow up in institutional care without international options.
But beneath all of that are real families trying to navigate an impossible equation. The conversation about declining birth rates isn’t just about China—it’s about how all of us think about family, support, care, and the future.
Looking Ahead
We don’t know where our next adoption journey will lead, but it will not take us back to China. And yet, our hearts are still tied there—to the country, to the culture, to the stories we lived and the ones we hoped to live.
This moment in history—China’s “life after the one-child policy”—is complex and heartbreaking. The end of international adoption marks not just a policy shift, but the closing of a 32-year chapter that connected tens of thousands of children with families worldwide. And while I don’t have answers, I do believe in continuing to bear witness. To honor the children, the families, and the futures caught in this quiet crisis.
