To be present at birth, I believe, is the closest we ever get to experiencing God as creator and to truly understanding His boundless love as Father. The miracle never gets old; it is always fresh, always astonishing. It takes so many intricate things that must go perfectly right—a delicate dance of biology, timing, and divine will—to knit together a new human being’s life. And yet, one decision—to use hormonal birth control—can ruin some mothers’ chances of ever receiving that incomparable gift.
The birthing room is a sacred space, a sanctuary of miracles where the human and the divine beautifully intersect. For years, as a doula, I had the profound privilege of holding hands, wiping brows, and whispering words of encouragement as new life burst forth. There’s no joy quite like witnessing a mother meet her child for the first time. I’ve been blessed to attend countless births, each one a unique symphony of effort and grace. But over the last decade, a subtle yet persistent and discordant note began to echo in my work, a troubling pattern that chipped away at the edges of that sacred joy.
It started subtly then became undeniable: a disturbing problem among vibrant, first-time mothers, generally in their early thirties. These were women who had meticulously planned their lives and carefully scheduled careers, relationships, and their families. Most had been on hormonal birth control for a decade or more, some since their teenage years, and had ceased its use months prior, believing that would be ample time for their bodies to “reset.” But what I witnessed in the quiet intensity of those birthing rooms told a different story.
Destruction of the uterine wall
I am the mother of 10 children—seven rambunctious sons and three beautiful daughters. Our home has always vibrated with the joyous chaos of a large family—a symphony of laughter, learning, and unwavering faith. I have never taken hormonal birth control, having entrusted my fertility wholly to God’s providence. This personal journey gave me a unique perspective in stark contrast to the struggles I witnessed.
I started to see a tragic increase in miscarriages within this group of new mothers that resulted in silent heartbreaks and dreams dissolving before they could fully form. Then, a more insidious trend emerged: placentas that struggled toadhere, or adhered only partially, to the uterine wall. Conditions like placenta previa or placenta accreta, once considered less common, seemed to whisper through the hospital halls with increasing frequency. Doctors, too, were observing this, grappling with the complexity of these cases. It felt as though the very foundation for life was faltering.
What I came to understand was the insidious complexity of modern hormonal birth control. Beyond merely suppressing ovulation or thickening cervical mucus, many of these modern contraceptives are designed to alter the uterine lining, making it inhospitable to the implantation of the newly created baby. The intention is clear: If fertilization does occur, the nascent life—a unique, unrepeatable human being—will be unable to implant, silently aborted before a woman might even know she was pregnant.
But the tragedy deepened, reaching far beyond immediate effect. For some of these young women, who had taken hormonal birth control for many years, that altered uterine environment didn’t simply vanish when they stopped taking the pill. It remained, in effect, a lingering scar on the uterine wall—a subtle, invisible barrier. The womb, designed by God to be a welcoming sanctuary, seemed unable to fully recover its receptivity. It struggled to properly receive the fragile embryo or adequately secure the life-sustaining placenta when these women finally chose to embrace motherhood.
Some research has indicated a higher risk of miscarriage in women who used oral contraceptives for prolonged periods prior to pregnancy. The “silent abortions” of their past, facilitated by a distorted view of reproductive “freedom,” seemed to cast a long, tragic shadow over their longed-for gift. It is a profound injustice that these women, having diligently planned their lives, were so rarely warned of this potential and devastating toll.
A sobering conversation
I recall sharing some of my concerns with a vibrant young woman who was about to get married, gently explaining how hormonal birth control could potentially alter the uterine environment over time. She listened, then paused, and with a note of casual reassurance told me, “Oh, but there’s only an 8% chance of that happening.”
My heart ached for her and for the ease with which she dismissed such a significant number. I remember looking at her and asking, “How many times do you plan on having sex with your husband in your lifetime?” Because when you consider that percentage in the context of thousands of acts of marital intimacy over years, that 8% chance suggests you could potentially abort eight babies if you make love 100 times while on hormonal birth control.
It was a sobering thought, a numerical facade crumbling to reveal a landscape of countless lost beginnings.
A call for truth and freedom
My life has been profoundly shaped by my radical trust in God’s design for fertility and family. It is a trust that stands in stark contrast to the unseen battles fought by the young mothers I had the privilege of serving. My story is not one of judgment but of heartfelt sympathy and a profound plea for truth.
The pro-life message extends far beyond the clinic doors; it encompasses a robust understanding of the sanctity of every human being from creation and the inherent dignity of the human body, particularly the sacred gift of fertility. When we tamper with God’s design for life, seeking to control and manipulate His beautiful work, there can be unforeseen consequences—unseen scars that wound the body, heart, and spirit.
With this knowledge, we must educate our daughters, not just about the clear and present danger of abortion, but about the full, complex reality of hormonal birth control. We must courageously speak of the true freedom found in surrendering to God’s loving plan for our lives, for our bodies, and for our families because life is always a blessing, and every child, whether conceived easily or through struggle, is a miracle worthy of profound celebration.
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