Editor's note: A national study published this month credited the HPV vaccine with significantly dropping the infection rate among U.S. teens. "Infection with the viral strains that cause cancer dropped to 3.6 percent among girls ages 14 to 19 in 2010, from 7.2 percent in 2006," the New York Times reported.
Truth is (if you'll forgive my use of a conversation-starter favored by tweens and teens), I wasn't always a champion of the HPV vaccine. I did, however, eventually change my mind and had all four of my kids vaccinated.
As a number of recent studies show, I'm not alone. More parents are accepting the vaccine after learning about the long-term dangers of the human papillomavirus for both women and men, as Michael Douglas' recent admissions underscored. Though the focus was on girls during the vaccine's early years, insurance companies now routinely cover the cost of the vaccine for both girls and boys, my pediatrician told me.
I didn't really enjoy learning certain intimate details about Douglas' sexual history, but I'm grateful he brought the issue of men and HPV back into the national conversation. Plenty of Americans parents continue to dismiss the need to get their daughters vaccinated and don't even consider the series of shots for their sons.
I was there once. My initial reticence over the HPV vaccine probably comes from how I first heard of it, years ago during a dinner with a few fellow moms. One said that some girls on her daughter's soccer team had approached another mom after learning she was a nurse. These girls were concerned, you see, about some strange warts they'd found in their mouths. When the nurse-mom took a look, she saw what she knew to be signs of sexually transmitted infections.
Warts in their mouths? Suddenly I'd lost my appetite. "And, as for the boys they were with, those warts will be on their – well, you know…" my friend said. "It was human papilloma virus. From oral sex." At the time, my oldest child was in middle school, as were the aforementioned girls. I stumbled over my words. "Wait. What? Who are these girls?"
What had I wanted to hear? That they'd been recently released from a maximum-security juvenile detention center? Nope. They were just regular, young teens who were sexually active. Well, to be precise, they didn't consider themselves sexually active because it was "just" oral sex, not intercourse.
Back then, the last time my son had so much as admitted romantic feelings for someone was when as a first-grader, he told me that he was going to marry Kathy Selden, Debbie Reynolds' character in Singin' in the Rain. Here he was, only a few years later with peers who had STDs.
So, when he was about 12 and the doctor at our pediatrician's office handed me a HPV fact sheet and described the series of vaccines that they offered to prevent infection, I declined. My son wasn't even holding hands with girls, let alone – well, I couldn't even wrap my mind around it. In fact, I don't think he could either. He still desperately tried to bat the conversation away when my husband or I talked to him about puberty or anything even remotely related to sexuality.
A couple of years after declining the vaccine – now the mother of slightly older children whose lives seemed inexplicably more fragile and yet more secure at the same time – I said yes to it. Yes, we'll begin and complete the three-injection series. Yes, yes, yes.
I hadn't succumbed to the inevitability of my sons and daughters having sex in middle or high school. I'd just spent more time getting used to them growing up. I had talked it through more deeply with the trusted pediatricians who have cared for my children since they were tiny. One such doctor is Ruben Rucoba, a pediatrician, medical writer, and father of four whom I've known almost as long as I've been a mother. Dr. Rucoba, whose strong faith helped him survive cancer, is a strong proponent of the vaccine.
"Many parents feel that giving the vaccine is equivalent to expressing consent for their children to have sex," Rucoba said. "I advise them to look at it as a cancer prevention vaccine. The most ardent supporters of vaccination are the mothers who've dealt with cervical cancer themselves. Anybody who has encountered this cancer wants to do whatever they can to prevent it in their children."
Although my own children weren't yet sexually active, teens I knew well and truly respected had made erratic and unsafe choices as adolescents.
"Parents sometimes refuse the HPV vaccine because they maintain that 'If I did my job right, my children won't be having premarital sex,'" Dr. Rucoba said. "This couldn't be farther from the truth: if a teen or young adult is sexually active, that doesn't mean the parent failed. Teens don't always listen to their parents, and that's not the parents' fault. Teens can be impulsive, and they think they are invincible."
Rucoba explained that the vaccines are most effective when given long before sexual activity begins. Even when men and women do not have sexual contact until they're married, parents can't guarantee that their sons' or daughters' spouses will have made parallel decisions. "Are you willing to bet your child's life on that?" he asked.
Truth is, I hope my children will make choices that will allow them to enter into marriage someday as healthy, whole adults for whom their God-given sexuality is a gift, not a source of pain or woundedness.
Truth is, this raising kids thing is tricky.
Jennifer Grant is a regular contributor to Her.meneutics, the author of Love You More and MOMumental, and is currently at work on two new book projects. Learn more at jennifergrant.com.
Rooster Cogburn is about to get an overhaul. John Wayne played the iconic character in the 1969 film True Grit, for which he won his only Oscar. Now Jeff Bridges is stepping into those shoes in a Coen Brothers remake, coming to theaters on Christmas Day. The Dude channels the Duke, whaddaya think of that?
Here’s the first full image from the new film – Bridges as Cogburn, and 14-year-old Haile Steinfeld as Mattie Ross:
After I got engaged, my sister gave me a copy of Emily Post's Etiquette—the 1950 version. It was half joke and half research, fascinating to comb through its musty pages to learn, for instance, how to introduce myself to a reigning sovereign should the Queen of England deign to attend my wedding. ("Mrs. Jones bows and, if the king offers to shake hands, Mrs. Jones bows again deeply as she gives him her hand.")
It's hard to imagine what Post herself, the queen of manners and doing the right thing, would say about weddings today. Wedding registries didn't even become de rigeur until a bit later in the 20th century. Up until that time, wedding guests chose from a socially prescribed list of household items—candlesticks, trays, china, and so on. The point of a wedding gift was that it was freely given, like all the best gifts are.
Now, of course, registries are the norm. Brandishing bar code scanners in department stores and clicking off Amazon wishlists have become engagement rites of passage. While registries are immensely helpful—who wants to end up with multiple cheese boards?—they have also opened the floodgates for all sorts of once unheard-of wedding requests. Honeymoon registries became popular, then savings registries to help pay for a down payment or a house renovation. It was only a matter of time before couples began asking for help with that other big expense: the wedding itself.
Strapped-for-cash couple can now setup online registries to solicit donations to pay for their wedding, in lieu of traditional gifts. It's not a mainstream thing for weddings (yet?), but it's happening. A friend pointed me to an example, where the bride and groom ask guests to "contribute to our wedding fund," which goes toward catering, the DJ, and all the other big-ticket items for the ceremony and reception.
It's a bold new world for weddings. A cake and punch reception will no longer do; the wedding bar has been raised by Pinterest and reality shows and cultural expectations and a bigger-is-better mentality. There must be imported flowers and perfectly mismatched china and cupcakes stacked in tiers with little flags telling you what flavor you're about to enjoy.
Most couples on these sites aren't seeking out an obscene amount of money, certainly not by today's standards, when the average wedding reportedy rings up well over ,000 (or maybe more like ,000). That's a lot. I understand their impulse to ask for help. A wedding is a special occasion, one that calls for celebration, great meals, and meaningful words. It honors God when we commit to our spouses before friends and family.
The standup comedian Louis CK does a bit when he rethinks socially acceptable institutions by offering "but, maybe…" suggestions. To take a cue from Louis, I believe weddings are worthwhile, meaningful events to spend money on, but maybe we're taking it too far.
But, maybe, in a world rampant in debt and excessive consumption, we should recognize and stick to the limits of our own budgets.
But, maybe, as brides and grooms, we should treat our guests to whatever celebration we can afford, without worrying about the trendy, socially mandated extras.
But, maybe, as guests, we should realize the wedding gift we choose—and the money we spend on it—isn't that important in the scheme of things.
Our attendance at the ceremony is enough of a present, wrote a friend of mine on the registry section of her wedding website. We've forgotten this in our efforts to match our gifts to the grandeur of the day. Wedding guests attend the event to bear witness to the making of this incredible covenant, not just on its first day but all the way through to its last. That gift lasts longer and means more the KitchenAids or duvet covers or generous checks or donations to cover the centerpieces. (Just kidding about the KitchenAids—those things are invaluable!)
We also want to bless the couple, to celebrate their marriage, but the point of a gift is that it is freely given. Wedding gift-giving should always be done in that spirit—God loves a cheerful giver and all that.
I do not want to condemn the couple asking for contributions to their wedding fund—I don't doubt that many of their guests are happy to help finance the big day. But I do want us to rethink the requirements that come along with a wedding, and to think about the importance of doing what we can do with the budget we have and being happy with that. The theologian and transcendentalist William Henry Channing has a wonderful thought on this from his Symphony:
To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich…to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never. In a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common. This is to be my symphony.
I love this picture of contentment and simplicity. It extends much further than a wedding, of course, but is incredibly instructive for a big day. We are reminded many times in the Bible to be content, not to worry about material things, and to be wary of excess. We cannot forget those important parts of our faith; rather, we can let them guide us as we work out how to celebrate well within our budgets and boundaries. The point of a wedding is to do this well, rather than to impress or overwhelm or compete.
I'm no expert in this area—I write this for myself as much as anyone. But the more we can remember to ask "But, Maybe…" questions, the more we can release the expectations of a wedding day with the financial overload that has come to define it.
