How to refute "Don't have children if you're broke"?

At 17, I interned at a five-star hotel and watched NingNuo students gather in the lobby for meetings. They move with ease and confidence, never lacking the latest Apple phones, growing up in an environment of love and acceptance, shining brightly and excellently. They are about my age, but I am just an apprentice watching the buffet. At that moment, would I feel no regrets about my family background? Or would I feel no envy or jealousy at all?
Their biggest challenge in life isn't learning to make money or becoming officials, but surpassing their parents' achievements. If I have children, 70% of me would repeat my own experience. The only comfort is thinking that there are children in this world who have it worse than me—at least I am healthy and well-fed.
Being born in mud and relying on the bank to breathe, getting married and having children means not only struggling to reach the shore but possibly being trampled underfoot by others. To be born is to be raised, nurtured, and loved. Can I even afford to love myself, let alone create a warm, accepting home for my children? And all the trivial, petty things—oil, salt, vinegar, tea—piled up together—it's enough to drive someone crazy.
Finding someone to love and stay with for a lifetime is even harder than winning the lottery. When you are free to be yourself, then consider becoming a parent. When you love yourself enough, then love others.
It's not about inferiority or cynicism; I have my ideals, and my spiritual world is rich. I will pursue my ideals without needing external motivation, leaving behind both failure and success. A cup of tea with friends can heal the wounds of failure, and a cup of tea with friends can bring satisfaction in success.
As a minority left-behind child, I couldn't understand Mandarin before third grade, understanding only five out of ten words. I never imagined I would become a writer someday. Using my internship wages to buy my parents a new phone, I am grateful to my parents and also thankful to my teachers at school for giving me a skill.
What I envy is not luxury cars, villas, designer brands, or global travel, but the freedom from leaving hometowns, not having to be a left-behind child, not suffering from illness and being unable to go to the hospital, not longing desperately for a little love.
The night before yesterday, by the fire pit, two nieces said they didn't understand the meaning of reading—can it really be used to make a living? They said yes, and that eating more eggs and drinking pure milk can help them grow taller. As we joked, I felt a wave of sadness. The firelight illuminated their faces but did not light up their lives.
They might spend their whole lives on this narrow land—how can I help or criticize? I lack the ability to save them, can only advise kindly, but what I say might fall on deaf ears. I want them to remember to work hard, fearing that years later they will only recall the past with sadness and regret.
I am very unsuccessful and not strong; my life is a mess, full of wounds. No one has guided me on what to do; all my pain has shaped me. Even after swallowing so much suffering, I still struggle like a caterpillar in a cocoon—breaking free and becoming a butterfly remains an unreachable dream.
Even today, I still long for my own bedroom and a bright study. I didn't even have a desk when I was a child. I am not that strong; even the fake indifference I put on is fragile.
I hope the world will no longer add to suffering. I sincerely wish everyone happiness and joy forever. May we all get everything we want before the sun sets.