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Roman Catholics have always opposed the pill, though most American Catholics do so only in theory. But as this teeny probability of abortion-by-accident gained more attention in the 1990s, some evangelicals joined Catholics in advising couples to ditch the pill.

In 1997, Randy Alcorn, founder of Eternal Perspective Ministries, joined the dissenters with his richly documented Does the Birth Control Pill Cause Abortions? Among those disturbed by the pill was also obstetrician Dr. Walter Larimore, whose influential advice can be heard on Focus on the Family radio programs.

But for every God-fearing, pro-life physician who opposes the pill, there seem to be at least three who embrace it. They point out that there isn't enough research and that we're merely talking about a potential tiny little abortion—and an involuntary one at that. Besides, they say, the very hormones that make the endometrium thin and "hostile" to implantation should also be enough to prevent ovulation in the first place.

It's a red herring, I remember telling the Torodes after doing some reading. Let's not go there. So their article didn't.

But I did. As I continued to take the little pill daily for another three years, it became harder and harder to swallow. I grew uneasy with the minuscule chance—be it one in a million of millions—that my womb might turn away a cluster of 128 or 256 cells knitted together in the image of God.

This sense of discomfort never evolved into an absolute dogma: I still wouldn't say that taking contraceptives is a sin. But I questioned the assumptions I found underneath my pill popping.

What did my daily habit say about my faith in the One who reduced himself first to a cell, then two, then 128, then 256 and more, then to a defenseless baby—and whose door is always open for helpless intruders like me? Could the little pill have stood for more than just a chance to get a fiscally responsible life before opening it up to stinky diapers? Could Mircette have changed not just the hormonal makeup of my cells, but also what cannot be seen under a microscope? Could it have served as one more safety lock on the door not just to my womb, but also to my figure, my marriage, my home, my career, my gym routine?

God is in these details.

What finally led me to dump the pill four years into our relationship was Duke Divinity School's spunky moral theologian Amy Laura Hall. Not coincidentally, the first time I met her, she was wiping her adopted toddler's gook off her blouse.

After taking care of that divine mess, she gave a lecture on the eugenics-rooted assumptions that have led Western Christians like me to view children—and even the possibility of their arrival—as an inconvenient interruption. Why, she asked, do we feel the need to perfectly time and fit children into our busy schedules? Is this a Christian instinct?

"Only in a small number of cultures do we have the idea that adults should do their work, worship, and entertainment without the presence of children," she says. In her case, the messenger is the message: She can often be seen scurrying from an airport to a conference to a classroom to a business lunch with a child holding her hand or wrapped around her neck, sometimes with her husband, also a professor, in tow.

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November 2005, Vol. 49, No. 11