— So proclaim all these Christian tradwife influencers all over my Instagram feed lately. For some reason, it seems like they’ve all simultaneously decided that now is the time to loudly preach at other women online (complete strangers btw) about how we “should” approach family planning. I swear, I’ve seen this headline on four or five reels on my FYP over the past couple of days. “Just trust God with your family size,” these lovely, long-haired, long-skirted women are all shouting at me in feminine curly fonts. “It’s that simple.”
But is it really “that simple”?
The last time I wrote about family planning and my POV thereon (here and here), I got a comment telling me I’m “privileged” (LOL! I still look in the mirror and giggle giddily about that — me! “Privileged”! I wish this commenter could take a look at my family’s life and bank statements — she’d be so embarrassed!). I guess because I have what most modern people consider a pretty “strict” take on birth control/NFP, and in those posts I did argue that, logically speaking, financial reasons probably aren’t good enough reasons to avoid pregnancy, in general, usually.
At the time that I wrote those posts, I only had three kids. Now I’m about to have five, and my life is a bit less stable and “comfortable” than it was then. Has my opinion changed?
Note that I am still opposed to birth control and sterilization. (So, if you are someone who makes use of those methods and isn’t worried about it, as I know plenty of Catholics do, this post is probably not for you.) The question imo is never whether contraception is okay, but whether avoiding pregnancy via natural family planning methods is ever okay. That seems to be the big debate, among traditional/Christian/Catholic moms online.
In case you’re unfamiliar: the debate: BC vs. NFP
NFP is a method of planning or avoiding pregnancy by means of awareness of when one is fertile or not. These methods vary in intensiveness, from just a casual awareness of how one is feeling physically/a knowledge of where one is in one’s cycle, to tracking hormone levels daily using an expensive monitor, test strips, wearable gadgets, apps, and a paid instructor. It can be a real pain in the butt, depending on how intensive you want to be about it.
And so some Catholic/Christian women use NFP to avoid pregnancy when for whatever reason they aren’t ready for it, because they believe NFP is different from birth control. Rather than separating sex from conception (which is after all its primary end) as BC does, it works with a woman’s natural cycles and cooperates with God’s design. There’s nothing sinful, these women claim, in limiting sex to the non-fertile windows of time; and it is, in fact, such an effort and a sacrifice that it’s basically the opposite of birth control, which is a way of circumventing God’s design; BC removes the need for discipline, self-control, or cooperation with God.
However. Some of these purists who are out here condescendingly shouting at us to “just trust God with your family size, it’s that simple,” take the more “extreme” stance of completely eschewing any family planning methods whatsoever. They believe that the purpose of marriage/sex is to grow families, and therefore, to have sex with the intention of not getting pregnant/to deliberately avoid pregnancy, is separating sex/marriage from its primary purpose, failing to trust God, and basically tantamount to using birth control.
My Thoughts Now, as a 37-year-old Broke TradCath Mom of Four going on Five
I actually had a conversation with a priest about this, since writing those last few posts. This question used to weigh on me a lot, so I finally worked up the nerve to talk to my pastor about it.
And keep in mind that this is a SSPX priest. Haters love to go around spreading lies about the SSPX, saying that they “don’t allow” women to avoid pregnancy for any reason and basically force women to pop out baby after baby nonstop because they think that’s all women are good for and that families should just get as big as they possibly can, indiscriminately. People who talk like this obviously have no lived experience with the SSPX.
I asked one of these good priests for some fatherly advice on this topic, and he gave me the most commonsense answer — a real sane happy medium between the modern Church’s “NFP is great, everyone should use it all the time as a lifestyle!” and these ignorant Insta influencers’ “just trust God with your family size, it’s that simple.”
He assured me that using NFP to avoid pregnancy is, in dire circumstances, perfectly licit — as an exception to the norm. It should never be viewed as a permanent fixture, as a way of life. It should be treated as a temporary, extraordinary thing — which is not to say that it can’t be used indefinitely! Sometimes it can and should. A couple should just always be discerning whether this is an appropriate time to use NFP or not. Because circumstances can change: health can improve, finances can improve. To just claim (without good reason) that “we’re done having kids,” “things will always be just the way they are now” shows a lack of trust in God. The normal state of marriage is, of course, openness to life. But sometimes, in unusual situations, avoiding pregnancy is for the good of the existing family members.
Which is what these noisy trad girl influencers fail to comprehend.
“Just trust God with your family size, it’s that simple” — except it’s not. It’s funny: you go to the comments on these posts, and you see all kinds of women commenting “yeah but my doctor told me if I have another I could literally die”, or, “sounds nice but I suffer from terrible PPD and almost killed myself last time” or some such — to which the OP replies fluffily “oh no! that does indeed sound like something to pray about! 💕😊” — basically having to admit, repeatedly, in her own comment section, that, actually, sometimes it’s not “that simple.”
I’m not saying that those women who throw caution to the winds are doing anything wrong. Actually, I think that’s the ideal way to live, in marriage! If you’re married and have the privilege of good physical and mental health, enough help, adequate resources, and a spouse who sees eye to eye with you, you should absolutely throw caution to the winds.
However, that privilege is not the reality for many of us. And I think it’s incredibly bold and inappropriate to assume that all other women have your exact same circumstances and privileges and therefore ought to live the exact same way that you do.
Also, I’m going to trust my priest, who has been through decades of intensive study, discernment, formation, practice, and sacrifice, over some fluffy smiley little girl influencer with an iPhone who’s clearly not hurting for resources. Not sorry.
“But why do you think of kids as a burden? That’s the toxic contraceptive mentality!”
One argument I keep hearing from these fluffy little online tradwives is this: “kids are not a burden! They are purely a blessing. If God said He was going to send you seven or more million dollars, you wouldn’t hesitate! You wouldn’t debate with Him over whether you could manage it or not. You wouldn’t see it as a burden. But if He suggested the possibility of sending you as many as seven-plus children — ‘oh no! That’s too many for me, God, let’s negotiate. I don’t think I can manage, that will make life too hard.’ — So you see money as a blessing but kids as a burden? You love money more than kids, is that it?!”
Please. With all offense meant: this is the most moronic, illogical, and emotionally-manipulative take I’ve ever heard. I imagine you’d have to have an insane amount of privilege and insulation from real world struggles to fall victim to it.
You cannot compare money and children. These things are both gifts from God, but (good grief, does this really even need to be explained?!) very different kinds. Children are infinitely more meaningful and worthwhile, because they are humans, but as such, they also have needs and requirements, one of which is a certain amount of money (and please don’t come at me saying you don’t need any money to raise kids well; I agree it can be done well on very little, much less than most people believe, but certainly not zero). To raise children well, you need: food, shelter, healthcare, education, all of which require money. Children are human souls with needs that you have to meet.
Money is just a resource. It doesn’t need anything from you. It doesn’t require discipline, maturity, responsibility, sacrifice, any of that. (Sure, you can argue that responsible use of wealth requires discipline and maturity, but please don’t be so dumb as to try to argue that that responsibility is at all comparable to that of the stewardship of human children.)
The only situation in which I can imagine a person viewing children the same way they view money is if either (a) the person is incredibly wealthy, and views their children as just another object to possess, another asset and bragging right, or if (b) they are an irresponsible parent with zero regard for their children’s needs, like that family in the news where the kids got taken away because there were like 19 of them, illiterate and neglected and rotting in a filthy shack full of bugs and human waste.
Children are absolutely better than money. A humble, struggling family with many children who are cared-for and have their basic needs met is infinitely richer than a couple of wealthy DINKs who travel a lot and do lots of hobbies.
However, that does not mean that it’s at all wrong or misguided to feel differently about having a ton of kids than you would about receiving a ton of money. Part of a respect for the blessing that is children means an acknowledgement of the sacrifices that they will require of you. I’d rather have a ton of kids than a ton of money, personally — however, I realize that to have a ton of kids, I’d simply need more resources than I have right now.
On “feeling done” having kids
This is another thing you hear discussed a lot about in online mommy spaces, Christian or otherwise. Women talk about a point where they “just feel done” having kids — some intangible woo-woo type of awareness that their family is complete, a point at which a mom becomes somewhat immune, or at least less susceptible, to the throes of “baby fever.”
The more Traditional/Christian moms will usually respond to such talk by saying that “feeling done” is not a Godly thing. That a couple who trusts God will always be completely willing and eager to have however many kids He sends them.
Can a Christian parent “feel done” having kids?
— I think it’s obvious that they can. Because a feeling is often just that, a feeling. Anyone can feel any type of way. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. What matters is how somebody acts.
So maybe a couple can emotionally “feel done” but continue to throw caution to the winds when it comes to their sex life because, upon reflection, they have no logical reason to avoid pregnancy. Resources are abundant, health is good, the family is thriving. That’d be a valid choice. (Just stopping because you “feel done” in a woo-woo type of way even though resources are abundant and you have no real reason to avoid, though… that’s probably a bit more ethically questionable, for Christian couples.)
But what if this feeling of doneness is more than just a woo-woo emotional thing. What if it’s the result of a couple actually paying attention to their circumstances and intuiting what would be an appropriate course of action based thereon.
Emotions don’t necessarily matter, but sometimes they actually are the result of real circumstances. For example: you can develop a very strong infatuation with someone just because they’re beautiful; that feeling does not mean you should upend your life, leave your spouse, and empty your bank account to go marry that person. This is an example of emotions being useless and meaningless.
On the other hand: you might look at your spouse and feel hearfelt sensations of fondness and appreciation and desire, and this could be because your spouse has treated you well and proven themselves trustworthy for a long time now. This is an example of how emotions can sometimes be well-founded and a sign of something true. Sometimes you have to think about your feelings and discern before acting.
I think in some cases the feeling of “done having kids” is more than just woo-woo. Sometimes it’s not just a feeling but a knowledge.
“But you said above that avoiding pregnancy should never be seen as a permanent lifestyle change” — yes, and I’m not contradicting that, because even if I feel like I know something, my knowledge is still inferior to God’s, and I need to trust that circumstances can change. So, “I think for right now we are done, due to pressing reasons x y and z, therefore this month we are avoiding” is completely valid. As long as you still leave the possibility open for reconsideration next month or a few months from now.
But what about couples who really cannot have any more kids for serious reasons?
“But what if I am actually certain that things will not change? (Like if I have always suffered from serious PPD and cannot safely risk trying again, or if my spouse and I are carriers for a dangerous genetic condition that we are likely to pass on to our potential offspring, or if I have been told by multiple doctors that another pregnancy would be seriously dangerous for my health, etc.) Why isn’t sterilization okay then?”
To be honest… I kind of feel like married people in these situations ought to be able to undergo medical sterilization if that’s what they both want. That’s just my feeling.
However, trying to see things through the lens of Church teaching, I guess sex/marriage is for the purpose of creating a family, therefore, if there truly cannot be openness to life, the morally perfect course of action would probably be to accept the burden of a Josephite marriage. So as not to separate sex from its primary purpose.
(A lot of people get confused about this teaching, and think that this must mean that it’s not okay for people to have sex if the woman is pregnant, or post-menopausal, or has had a hysterectomy for medical reasons, since conception in these cases is impossible anyway. This is a misunderstanding. The teaching is that the act itself must always be oriented toward its true purpose. It must not always have the intention of conceiving, but it must always be done in such a way that’s open to that possibility — which is, after all, all we can control anyway; we’re not the authors of life.)
Indeed, there are a lot of anti-NFP extremists out there who will tell you that, if a couple feels they need to avoid pregnancy, the only appropriate thing for them to do is completely abstain until they’re ready to be open to life again. So as to not separate sex from its primary end.
Tbh, I get that. Logically, it does sound consistent. Props to the couples out there who agree to live this way. I think that’s a beautiful and noble sacrifice.
But is it practical? Or necessary?
This comes back to my POV on vaccinations. I discussed in a recent post how I’ve come to see that, in some ways, the antivax position is, logically, perhaps superior to the pro-vax. Like, strictly philosophically, theoretically speaking, if you were to boil it down to symbolic logic and equations.
However.
There is much of life that (as much as I hate to admit it) cannot be boiled down to symbolic logic and equations. Just because a course of action would be logically sound — such as not vaccinating, or abstaining from sex in marriage because you aren’t safely able to have a kid right now — these ideas look good on paper, but real life is much more mixed-up and messy and blurry. In real life, it makes more practical sense to choose the course of action that’s most likely to protect your kid from serious illness. In real life, a married couple usually needs to share a sex life.
Which is why, imo, things like NFP and vaccines, while not good in and of themselves, are useful, practical tools for living as a real, imperfect human in the real, imperfect world.
In conclusion: a bit about my personal situation
As I mentioned, when I wrote my earlier posts, I was 35 and had only three kids. Now I’m 37 and about to have five.
For the first time in my adult life, I can say I finally somewhat relate to the aforementioned feeling of “being done.” Previously, during pregnancy, I always felt so sad at the thought that this might be my last one! I could never understand women who said they felt “done.” But this time, the prospect of this possibly being my last pregnancy seems like… kind of a relief.
If you know me, you know I have been pregnant every calendar year since 2019. This is my sixth pregnancy, I’ve had one loss. My oldest child is six and will have just turned seven when #5 arrives. I have been loving this life, with all its chaos! I haven’t struggled with any health issues or PPD. I am great at giving birth and breastfeeding. I have been healthier and happier than ever, and thriving in motherhood. I truly feel this is my vocation.
However: at this point, at 37 and in the first trimester with baby #5, I can also recognize that I have become somewhat depleted. Physically and mentally, I am maxed out. I am in some ways at my limit. Right now, I feel a cold, logical awareness that I am at capacity: I have, for the time being, finally reached a limit of how much I can do without cutting corners on each child’s emotional, educational, and material needs.
And I’m aware that my body is depleted. Until now I haven’t had much regard for all the advice about “allow your body to recover between pregnancies” and how much a pregnancy actually saps from you, nutritionally. Because I’ve felt great! I’ve bounced right back each time. I always leave the hospital looking like i wasn’t even pregnant. I’ve been fit and strong and pain-free through each pregnancy, and so I kind of felt like all that advice about slowing down and taking recovery time was maybe good for other, less sturdy, healthy, women, but did not apply to me.
But now, I think I’m finally starting to feel it.
Did you know that, when your body is growing a baby, if you’re not adequately nourished (i.e. if you don’t have excess amounts of nutrients floating around in your bloodstream), the placenta, whose job is to nourish the baby, will literally start taking from you: you don’t have enough calcium to grow baby? Then it’s coming from your bones. You don’t have enough iron? It’s coming out of your personal reserves. And so on. I’m not a big eater, I don’t like to eat a lot, hate feeling full and prefer to feel lighter, and tbh, for myself, I don’t put a lot of effort into choosing highly-nutritious foods or whatever; I just eat what feels good and is affordable and convenient. And then I wonder why, after six pregnancies in seven years, my hair is falling out.
Not only that, but we are at a point in our life where we could probably manage another healthy child or two, but if we were to have a child with special long-term medical needs, this would take more from us than we can afford to give.
I think a couple should always, no matter their ages, consider the real possibility that their child will not be perfectly healthy and able-bodied. It seems like many couples simply aren’t willing to entertain that possibility, and will simply abort if their baby isn’t medically perfect. I don’t believe that it’s ever okay to kill an innocent person, therefore, if I’m going to be open to life, I must consider the real possibility of spending the rest of my life parenting a child with special mental or medical needs.
It would be more strain than we are willing to take on, as a family, right now, to have a child that constantly needed intensive medical care. Would God help us through it, if we were to find ourselves in that situation? Of course He would. Just as God would also help me through it if I got into a horrible car accident, or contracted the bubonic plague. But I’m not going to invite that situation upon myself by driving into oncoming traffic, or visiting places where such diseases run rampant. That doesn’t mean I don’t have faith in God.
All of which leads me to believe that my current feeling of “doneness” is reasonable and worth heeding.
Does that mean I’ve decided to say “I’m sure I’m done, no more kids for me ever”? No! Absolutely not. But I don’t think there’s anything sinful or selfish in recognizing that, after #5 (whom I could not be happier about! I’ve always wanted five kids, since I was a girl), it will be time to focus for a while on my own and my family’s health and recovery. I plan to practice NFP, which, while not morally ideal, at least leaves room for error and for God — so if He really wants me to have a sixth or more in the next few years, that’ll surely happen, and if it does I’ll be delighted about it! (Tbh I’m probably just gonna buzz my hair off after #5 anyway.)
Imo, this is discernment; this is paying attention, listening carefully, and making informed, prayerful decisions. They say that “God comes to you disguised as your life.” Imo, being wise and prudent about life, using your reason and intuition, is much more becoming of a well-formed Christian than just doing whatever without regard for any of the signs that God is sending you (or, in my case, practically whacking you across the face with).
In conclusion: if you, like these fluffy tradgirl influencers, have the privilege of being able to throw caution to the winds right now: if you have discerned and determined that God is telling you to just go for it: nice! I’m so happy for you! That is beautiful and holy and awesome. Please, carry on. That should be the norm.
However, I do ask that you refrain from preaching at and/or casting judgment upon couples whose lives you know literally nothing about.
This goes for me too. I admittedly kind of raise an eyebrow at Catholic couples who use birth control because they don’t care about Church teaching. (I meet these people online sometimes.) But you know what, in the end that’s between them and God. That kind of choice is different from a choice like abortion, which harms a third, innocent party and therefore needs to be banned and is always without a doubt bad. But a couple’s sex life and reproductive choices are really, in the end, between them and God.
So maybe all you influencers need to stop talking about it and mind your own. On that note, I’ll stop talking about it too.