Me, Myself, and Birth Control
It took me fifteen years to feel empowered by my reproductive choices
My relationship with birth control has always been a turbulent one. From the beginning of my sex education, I was taught that getting pregnant outside of wedlock was the ultimate sin. Not only was it a physical manifestation of impurity, but the only option once pregnant was to carry the baby to term and either raise it as a teen mother and be constantly judged by everyone (especially at church) or make the harrowing decision to give the baby up for adoption. Abortion was absolutely never even considered. The school I went to in middle school went to great lengths in “science” class to drill that into our heads.
By the time I was dipping my toes into the sexual realm, around age 15, I knew that I must avoid getting pregnant at all costs. I first asked to go on the pill around this age, partially for the horrific cramps I would get during my period every month, and partially because even though I didn’t plan to have premarital sex, the extra assurance that I wouldn’t get pregnant made me feel better.
You see, many of my friends around this time were having unprotected sex. What would happen is they would go to church and the sermons would frequently focus on the importance of abstaining from sex. Keeping condoms around and going…
