Mircette and I became one shortly before my wedding day. In a way, my union with the wallet-sized green box of 28 pills was more complete than the bond I had with my husband. We devoured each other: I swallowed the little tablet daily, and its hormones penetrated the cells of my body.
There were unspoken vows in our seemingly side-effect-free union. Come sickness or health, I promised to be faithful to Mircette and take it regularly at the same time every day. In turn, the pill pledged to suppress my ovulations.
I could have sex whenever I wanted, without fearing that a pregnancy would impose on my incipient career. We spoke each other's love languages: Mircette met my needs for adventure and protection—simultaneously; I served as its interactive billboard among my friends. And the wonder drug's makers got my $20 co-pay each month. Everyone was satisfied!
That's when a more captivating lover began to turn my eye.
A Hospitable Womb
It was an emotional affair, the first time I cheated on the pill and everything it stood for. One thing led to another; I didn't really go out looking for a new ideology.
Early in my job as an editor at CT, I worked on a piece by a just-married couple, Sam and Bethany Torode, which they later developed into a provocative little book titled Open Embrace: A Protestant Couple Rethinks Contraception (Eerdmans, 2002). It was a personal narrative about how they—somewhat irresponsibly, I thought—had had unprotected sex since their wedding. They were so cute, so Bible times!
I had to wonder, though: Did no one tell them that newlyweds are supposed to secure some essentials before risking the intrusion of a baby? Didn't they want to make love without visualizing cribs? Didn't they need to get ...
1
You have reached the end of this Article Preview
To continue reading, subscribe now. Subscribers have full digital access.
You have reached the end of this Article Preview
We need to rediscover worship that works without our help.Português简体中文繁體中文
My journey from life on the streets to life in Christ.
The use of fetal cell lines from the 1960s is another sticking point in the vaccine debate.
Wet sifting brings us closer than ever to the world of Jeremiah, Isaiah, and Hezekiah.
