Expert opinion

Here you may read a graciously sympathetic post from the Anchoress, who kindly takes the time to consider what the life of a mother of many young children is really like, and a vision for a program of care to such mothers. Also included is this link to a writing from a Roman Catholic mother who is upfront about a hard fact of perpetual parturition: it places extreme demands on a marriage (NFP or not), even a strong marriage, even a strong marriage between two people equally convicted about the catholic teaching on marriage. The writer told her husband,

The worst part is, I blame the Church. I blame the ban on birth control, the fact that NFP doesn’t work for us, the reality that I will never, ever have a chance to get a handle on things because I’m constantly pregnant or nursing. I can’t crawl out from under the pregnancy-and-postpartum rock because the rock follows me everywhere, just waiting to smash me again. Intellectually, I believe the Church. I understand the arguments against birth control. I agree with them, even. I just no longer think I’m a good enough person to follow the rules.

There are many reasons people use contraception, and no one understands them better than people who don't. I have no use for the faux-debaters who will bellow forever about binding consciences, the first and last refuge of the lazy Lutheran. The loyal opposition I DO respect is comprised of those who are honest enough to say: "The church might really be right about that, but we just can't do it. It's too hard." They're right. It IS too hard. :P

The Anchoress' vision is unlikely to become a systemic reality anywhere. It may happen in individual Roman Catholic parishes where someone with a "heart for that ministry" undertakes it. Much less will it happen in our Synod where anybody with more than four kids is a caricatured joke, the lowest of the evangelists and the blandest of persons. The Republican Party at Prayer will never stop secretly wanting us all to be Michele Bachmann (physically attractive, kid count in the high-reasonables, bonus good-personism, successful career, and of course "conservative"). I can only be thankful for the dear people in my parish who are kind to me and help me as they are able simply because we are sisters in Christ, not because they share an interest in my personal pious cause. Developing a fantasy about some kind of formal support system serves merely to depress; my recommendation is don't bother.

BUT--I will remember what this is like. When these years end for me, I will try to be the loving presence; the listening, understanding, forgiving ear; the willing hands for any young mother who needs them so much, who is so disrespected and alone, beginning with the mothers of any grandchildren God should see fit to grant me.

Guest Post: NFP: Why we don't bother

CSPP recently received a request for a post on the topic of Natural Family Planning. We are pleased to offer a guest post from Pastor H.R. Curtis of Gottesdienst Online, Four and Twenty Blackbirds, and the International Defensive Pistol Association.

First, a little disclaimer. The world is a very sadly broken place.

Any discussion of God's gift of children and our receiving of it inevitably introduces several elephants into the room. What about the hard cases? What about when disease and hardship disrupt God's world?

As some famous writer once said: people who are happy are pretty much happy in the same way, but people who are unhappy each have a unique story. It is very difficult to speak about the hard cases in a general way. So I'm not going to try. If you are suffering under such a hard case - a life threatening disease (including diseases of the brain), crippling hardship, etc - and wonder how God's gift of children applies to you and your spouse, then stop reading this and find a faithful pastor to talk it over with. If you have a flippant pastor who likes to talk about his elective vasectomy after three kids at age 37, then send me an email and I'll try to point you to a faithful pastor in your area.

But for the rest of us who do not fall into the hard case category - if you are interested in hearing how and why somebody went from being a normal follower of American culture to a reactionary, traditional Lutheran who frowns on all forms of birth control, well, this is just what you've been waiting for.

I grew up in a normal blue & white collar family in middle America: birth control is good, you should wait to be ready to have kids, three or so is a good number. Never heard anything elsewise from my normal LCMS church. She grew up in a Boomer pastor's family: birth control is within your Christian freedom.

Got married with a standard American plan: finish grad school, then have threeish kids. Heard about how the pill could cause her body to expel a newly created baby from Mrs. Gibbs at CSL about a year and a half into marriage. Tossed the pills. Started reading. Ewy-ew: most birth control is, like, totally gross! And now the more we read and think, doesn't sound too godly either. But we still wanted to cling to that plan. Eventually got hold of an NFP book. Bingo: no cross, plan intact, and how can a billion Papists be wrong?

Notice at this point that the plan is still there. But let's be more honest about the "plan." It's not really a plan, it's a metaphysical judgment: a baby right now would not be a blessing. That's what all "family planning" comes down to: in my judgment, a baby right now would not be a blessing. Rather, a baby is to be avoided right now.

What you've got to decide is whether or not you think that is a godly judgment.

[And remember that disclaimer, I'm not talking about the hard cases. I'm talking about normal folks: a baby right now would be annoying, difficult, painful, expensive, etc. I'm not talking about: a baby right now would likely kill me, or be permanently crippled, or cause one or the other of us to starve. If that's the spot you are: stop
reading, don't bother typing anything below, and go talk to a godly pastor.]

Through reading the Bible, our Lutheran fathers, the history of the birth control movement and the church's reaction, etc., we came to think that that statement is just not a godly statement. Children are a blessing from the Lord. Married couples are called to be fruitful and multiply. Trust in the Lord and lean not on your understanding.

Further, note how all forms of birth control share that judgment: a baby right now would not be a blessing. As such, they share the same end - though the means are different.

That is significant and I don't want to downplay it. I'm glad NFP was there as a stepping stone for us when we were too fearful to cast our burdens on the Lord. In my pastoral counseling I've held out NFP as an option for others who are likewise fearful. And there are significant differences between all of the following: a baby is not a blessing now, so I'm going to kill it while it's in my womb; a baby is not a blessing now, so I'm going to ask a man to cut me open and take my baby parts out; a baby is not a blessing now, so I'm going to take a hormone pill that will make be infertile; a baby is not a blessing now, so I'm going to slap a water balloon on my wang (I mean, really?); a baby is not a blessing now, so I'm going to tell my wife that no, we will not be making love tonight - or any night until that temperature of hers comes down.

There is a difference between all those - and yet, there is a similarity, isn't there?

A few more NFP thoughts.

* Remember when you were dating? Remember how you wanted to have sex but couldn't? If you liked that, then NFP is for you.

* I was speaking with a fellow pastor about this just today. He and his wife were also on the NFP wagon for a while. He said, "We determined that you don't really need charts or thermometers. If you wife is really in the mood and wants to have sex: that's the day you can't." Another pastor at the table said, "Hmmm. Almost like God created it to work a certain way..."

* What do you call NFP practitioners? Mom and Dad.

* Why do the Papists allow NFP? It's the only birth control method that doesn't work.

OK, the last two are stale jokes. But there is a truth to them. NFP is frustrating and stupid and so many people give up and many others "fail" at it - that is, they have babies (what a failure!). It's frustrating because marriage and sex go together. It's stupid because because sex and babies go together too, and trying to have the one without the other is just silly.

When NFP was being debated in the early-mid 20th century the Lutherans laughed at it as pharisaical, Papist nonsense. That's kind of where I have come down as well. If you are saying "a baby would not be a blessing right now because _____ (I'm 40 or I'm tired or the youngest is only 9 months old or the car payment is due or....)" then I would encourage you to read the Bible again and lean not on your own understanding, to not be afraid for the Lord will provide. Really, He will. Honest. He keeps his promises. Children are a blessing, the fruit of the womb a reward. It really says that in the Bible. You can trust it.

And one more time: if you are saying "a baby would not be a blessing right now because the doctor says I'll probably die or the baby will have CF or I honestly think I might kill myself or the child will starve" - then please don't comment here. You need more than internet kibitzing, you need to go talk to a godly pastor face to face.

+HRC

Coooonnnnnnnvvvvvveeeeeerrrrrrrssssssion

We were not overnight converts to CSPP. We were overnight converts off the pill. Our plan was to go to NFP but we got pregnant in the meantime. Our late-arriving CCL book persuaded us while we awaited the birth of Baby 1 that other forms of contraception were out. (It persuaded me, anyway. Now that I think about it, I don't know how Dad got where he is or much else about his feelings or meta-thoughts on the topic, just that we landed at roughly the same place at the same time).

Our plan after Baby 1 came was still NFP. But the dirty little secret of NFP is that figuring out return of fertility when you're nursing a baby falls somewhere between tricky and impossible. So we got pregnant again when our first baby was 9 months old.

Back to asymptomatic NFP (which is to say: no NFP. Come on, people). Baby 2 was 13 months and I got pregnant again. (In case you're wondering why we were at least thinking we were NFPing--our reasoning then was that we were in a two-bedroom apartment in a sky-high housing market. We'd have gotten evicted by law for more than two kids, and since that was the cheapest apartment we'd been able to find for our tight budget, we didn't think we had a choice. I've got enough current sins to contend with that I haven't taken the time to precisely weigh out past conundrums. And for those of you wondering why on earth I feel some need to explain myself here . . . I'm not really sure, either.)

I distinctly remember the day I told Dad that we should just take them as they came (not that we had been able to manipulate their arrivals before). I was six or seven months pregnant with #3. God had graciously delivered us out of the deluxe hamster cage and its incipient occupancy dilemma by calling Dad to a parish with a nice big parsonage. Now the only reason I had left for NFPing was "mental health." This exception has always made me nervous since it's also the one that lets anyone get an abortion. Moreover, I didn't have true "mental health" problems. It was just that running a baby farm was pretty far from the top of my career list. Being sad and angry about it didn't excuse me from it. [Disclaimer: I know mental health is a real thing, but it's also easy to abuse.]

Anyway, the point is, the CSPP conversion process has a lot of time (9 months + 6 or more months, usually) and uncertainty built into it, such that many people may find themselves practicing before they're true believers. It took me a while to get this crazy, and I had already been effectively acting crazy for a while before I really believed whatever it is I believe. It's taught me that there's no need to terrify others on the path with excessive righteous fervor on the topic (my mere existence is terrifying enough for some, although the people I really get a kick out of are the ones who get angry). The path often changes people naturally and, in a kind of twisted way, gently.

And then again, 15 months isn't that much time. I've felt pretty stable about all this for a couple of years now. But I don't know that I would if we had kept up at our initial turnover rate. Right now I'm living the longest non-pregnant stretch I've had since the night of the Pill-toss, and I feel downright CALM. It's weird.

I also used to think that our kids were really close in age. I've learned from our readers and commenters that there are women out there who are back in the game post-baby much earlier than I am. Girls, you're tough.

Probing the Sulvan brain

You are hereby warned that the CSPP hardline comes up in this post. If you're not going to like it, you have no one but yourself to blame if you read it.

Pam expressed interest a while back in how the other half (that is, 99%) lives. I don't love talking about it. Guilt is forgiven and shame is covered, but regret never goes away this side of the eschaton. So I offer this not primarily to satisfy Pam's sick curiosity ;), but because it may be of use to someone who is like I have been at various points along the line. Conversion is slow going, and not that cool.

I planned my family when I was in third grade. I wanted three kids. That's just how I thought. My parents talked about wanting 3-5 kids and having it work out just right (they got two, then twins, then took measures). I grew up in a very pious house, an LCMS pastor's family, where you decided. I had no idea there was any other way. My mom talked about having been on the pill before I was born. Picking your family=normal. Like putting on socks before shoes.

I think when we got married we wanted two kids, or that's what we said or I thought about or something. We also planned to name them Wurlitzer and Square Root (strangely prophetic), but that's neither here nor there. We talked about contraception, kind of as an intellectual exercise, but ultimately concluded that if NFP were ok (the pope being the only measure we had for the topic) you couldn't really make a case for disallowing other methods. I was on the pill because that's what you do when you get married.

Didn't I ever squirm? you pious souls ask. Didn't I know deep down that this was wrong? No. No wondering, not once, not the least little bit. Some laws are more natural than others, and environment makes all kinds of difference.

Despite my disinclination to get the baby party started since it would interfere with my plan to go to school forever, it troubled me that if something terrible happened and one of us were left alone, we would have nothing to show for our marriage (here's as close as I came to being naturally lawful). We decided we'd be done with pills the same summer we'd leave for vicarage, rather than our last year of seminary as originally planned, and figured we'd make it work somehow.

A few months before that summer, though, we got wind of the potential abortifacient mechanism in ALL versions of the pill (I had previously been told only some were abortifacient and did my homework for the kind I was on). Bluff called and feeling robotic, I went home and pitched my pills. A couple of weeks later I totally kicked butt on a pregnancy test.

Now, quitting the pill is not the same as professing CSPP. I have another post for that chapter of my really awesome autobiography that so many people are interested in. My goal here is explain how I thought, and how I thought was: Huh? For what it's worth, I just didn't know. What it's worth, of course, is nothing in an absolute sense. But two doctors and a pharmacist had told me the pill I was on was not abortifacient, and all I knew about family planning was that for some reason Catholics weren't supposed to do it. I didn't like that Catholics weren't supposed to do it, because after all, why does God give women brains? So I wasn't exactly the noble savage, either.

But with no hard feelings toward you nice people who never dreamed of anything other than spending 20 years of your life cranking out kids: you're weird. Most people, most Christians, most Lutherans don't know why you got pregnant right away and keep turning up that way any more than they know why your pastor preaches on texts (not the lectionary, mind you--texts) and wears vestments (not maniples, mind you--vestments). They don't actually disagree with you in their natural state, because they don't even get how you think. They just think you want a lot of kids, because to them wanting is the only language of reproduction. If they suspect some sort of conviction on your part, well, that's easy enough to blow off, since holding weird convictions means you're weird and thus can be blown off by definition.

Coming over to the weird side is a big fat deal if you grew up normal, thinking normally, envisioning a normal life. Missionaries deal kindly, patiently, and charitably with polygamous tribal chiefs, and there's a lesson in that for all of us.

Ecological Breastfeeding: A Concordian Critique

Abstract: Ecological Breastfeeding will not happen naturally for all (perhaps many or most) babies. It is a learned behavior that must be taught by mothers.

Way back when I got my CCL book to learn about NFP, I was mystified by the ecological breastfeeding business. Sure, I was planning on nursing my baby, but this was certainly the first I'd heard about pacifiers being pure, unadulterated evil. I finished the chapter convinced and horrified that I would have a baby at a minimum of every 15 months if I didn't follow the Seven Rules. As I've mentioned, breastfeeding turned out to be a lot more complicated than I anticipated and it wasn't long before the Seven Rules were nothing more than Seven Sources of Endless Guilt. And what do you know? I don't ecologically breastfeed by the Kippley rules, but none of my kids have ever had a drop of formula, they've all been nursed the requisite year, and the shortest interval between any two of them is 18.5 months. It's on the tight side, but I've lived to blog about it.

Here's a little rundown of the rules and my impious thoughts for the curious.

• Breastfeeding must be the infant's only source of nutrition – no formula, no pumping, and (if the infant is less than six months old) no solids.

Got no problem here, although I will say that I'm not going to start throwing stones at anyone who expresses for an evening out now or then. Maybe I'll try it again one of these years (we attempted it on Baby 3; she wouldn't take the bottle and we had to come home early).

• The infant must be pacified at the breast, not with pacifiers or bottles

Not one of my kids has ever been interested in nursing to kill time. There have been times when I've wished they would be pacified by nursing, but no, they want to be hauled aimlessly around the house, perhaps while plugged into a sinful, sinful dummy. And until we get the nursing in church thing figured out, the Divine Service is ground zero for pacifier use. As for bottles, back in the Boob Hell days, bottles were the only way for my daughter to get breastmilk. I was sure glad they existed, since I couldn't afford a wet nurse.

• The infant must be breastfed often. The standards for LAM are a bare minimum; more frequency is better. Scheduling of feedings should be avoided.

The bit about scheduling can be misleading to new moms. With all my nursing trouble, I felt like a complete failure for committing to feed the baby every two hours, come Tartarus or torrent. The truth is, she was a decent sized lass and didn't need to be fed that often. The schedule was for me, not her. It kept me operational when I so wanted to quit by attrition (oh, what do you know! I never fed the baby all morning!).

• Mothers must sleep with their infants – in the same room, if not in the same bed.

I'd rather just say mothers must sleep and leave it at that. Blessed are you, saintly women who can sleep with a baby in the same bed or room. I, after a month or two, do a very good job of walking seven steps down the hall into the room next door when the snuffling gets loud enough to indicate that it's for real, and I'm not kept up the rest of the night by low-grade sleep-snorting.

• Mothers must not be separated from their infants for more than three hours a day.

Really? Even three hours and eleven minutes? What if the shopping takes 2.5 hours plus 45 minute drive time without the baby (happily at home with Dad and sibling friends), or 4.75 hours with the (very unhappy) baby? Sheesh.

• Mothers must take daily naps with their infants.

Oh my. I couldn't even make this work when I only had one kid.

• The woman must not have had a period after 56 days post-partum (bleeding prior to 56 days post-partum can be ignored).

And woe betide that woman who shamefully did!

Here's how ecological breastfeeding really works, and please note that I'm not putting a value judgment on it: it purposely creates breastfeeding super-dependency. If your baby is used to waking up next to the deli counter and grabbing a sandwich every time, before long he isn't going to be able to just roll over and go back to sleep when he smells salami.

But I don't see a problem (biological, ethical, or otherwise) with not conditioning your child in this way if that's not your bag. If I have a baby who sleeps well on his own and puts in an 8- or 9-hour stretch overnight, there is no way I'm going to stop in on my way to bed to wake him up and feed him, and then set my alarm for an encore at 3 to make sure that we're all sufficiently ecological.

Frankly, not going the route of deliberately making your child an every-half-hour-feeder (and again, I have yet to own a baby who would be so obliging) has its advantages for those who have an earlier return of fertility. Many women breastfeed while pregnant. I've done it myself, but only of necessity for the older child. I've been pregnant again by that time at least twice (maybe three times), and nursing and pregnancy is a bad combination for me. But since my kids' worlds haven't revolved around breastfeeding day, night, dawn, dusk, and in the twilight zone, they've all signed off gradually with zero evidence of trauma, purely by my switching to a don't offer, don't refuse policy once the candle is blown out. I've been very thankful that when my children have reached their first birthdays, we've weaned without weeping and gnashing of teeth. Especially the latter.

And, tautology hunters, I always nurse on demand (which usually means by our mutually satisfactory, de facto schedule) until the baby turns one, start solids late, and never push them beyond the baby's interest, even when I am pregnant and very unhappy about nursing. Some girls just get back in the game early, and I'm one of them. The difference is that I don't deliberately inflate demand. So, no, I don't ecologically breastfeed by the Seven Rules. If I did, I'd definitely feel too exhausted for another baby right now. Moreover, for someone who doesn't follow the Seven Rules, I "should" have an earlier return of fertility than I did with babies 2 and 3. Tautology yourself!

(And if you really have lots of time on your hands and are interested further reading, I ran into this while I was working on this post.)

The crowds of judgment gather

We've been on the "No" end of the contraception permissiveness spectrum for a while now, and all's I have to say is, it's weird. Outsiders may be surprised to learn that there is no party platform on the topic. Some won't space, some will by any non-abortifacient means in only the direst of circumstances, some will space for more or less critical reasons but only by NFP, some will call it quits after 4 or 6 or 8 and others won't. Every couple makes its own rules, and those rules are largely colored by personal experience*.

So one person thinks I'm a license-giving antinomian sellout. Another considers me a heartless, ever-accusing binder of consciences. I'm a Pietist theologian of glory and a faithless Modern compromiser, with some Gen X/Y postmodern angst/indifference muddying the rhetoric.

It's all terribly exciting.

*For those keeping score, your humble blogresses aren't all in the same boat parturitionally speaking, and should not be assumed to be walking in lockstep on these matters. For example, breastfeeding spaces children somewhat generously for one of us. One of us doesn't puke her brains out the entire time she's pregnant. And one of us isn't pure evil.

CSPP Conversion: A progressive tale

Not everyone has to be dragged kicking and screaming into CSPP. But here’s one version of my story.

1) This is your brain on drugs. You pop your pills, congratulating yourself on being responsible enough to put off children while you “get to know each other” and do Important Things like Hanging Out and collecting random graduate degrees. You may have an occasional sense of unease but it’s vague (and quite possibly related to the side effects of the hormones you’re pumping into your body).

2) Isn’t that a Papist thing? A longtime RC friend speaks gently to you about why the Pill might not be such a great idea. You try to relegate this to the same category as purgatory propaganda…but your hormone-addled mind is nevertheless more uneasy than usual. Perhaps the disquiet is reinforced by a brochure Renee Gibbs handed to you at seminary, and by rumors of classmates—uber-Lutherans!—who are tossing their pills.

3) Uh-oh. Now it’s getting personal. The unease grows and you think hey, maybe this is important enough to consider for more than half a minute. You come across evidence like this that makes you quit drugs cold turkey. Perhaps you attempt some other “methods” or perhaps you’ve simultaneously become an NFP convert, squinting through the Kippleys’ papistry in order to become champion charters (or learning the Billings Ovulation Method, or…).

4) Slippery Slope. As we well know, the trip from NFP to Baby to CSPP is notoriously short...

5) Reluctant Martyrdom/Angry Resignation. By this time you have a baby or two and are adjusting to the normal systemic shock brought by bearing a child and being in the full-time company thereof--but also to the staggering realization that the road ahead is paved with more diapers and less You than you ever envisioned. You can recite the pro-CSPP arguments in your sleep (when you get any sleep) but that doesn’t mean you have to like them. This stage may also be characterized by CSPP-evangelism that is motivated largely by Self-Pitying Self-Righteousness and Misery Loves Company.

6) Earnest zeal. You’ve become somewhat reconciled to your fate but still tense up whenever childbearing-related topics or references to being Done arise in casual conversation, feeling an intense burden to say exactly the right thing every time. (Like anyone’s really listening to you anyway!)

7) Live and let live (literally!), and revel in the wonder of it all. Theological arguments for CSPP are great…if you’ve got the time and can organize your gray matter, which seems highly unlikely, given the jumble of shoes in the back hall and the upheaval of playthings across the house. You’re not afraid to speak boldly for truth, but your life becomes your witness, along with quiet conversations at opportune moments.

And these children—they who seemed (and indeed still sometimes seem) to be your prison wardens—these same children, they are amazing. Incomprehensible. Every new morning, new every morning, you have the opportunity to nurture their growing bodies, to shape their stretching souls, even as you yourself are sanctified through the same process. And you think: I would trade the co-creation of persons who will live forever in Christ’s presence for—what again? A cubicle? A corner office? More stuff and more vacations? More time to pursue “my Christian calling and gifts” as dictated by my own self?

O, this tow-headed row of blue-eyed boys—these unexpected, undeserved, unruly and unrivalled blessings—there is no contest. There will be no trade.

Or as Rebekah has so adeptly, so succinctly, so eloquently described it: Kick A where you’re planted!