Do We Need a Pronatal Approach to Sex Education?

In March, I attended the first annual conference of The Guiding Star Project, a growing network of holistic women’s health centers. Their vision is “a future where no woman fears pregnancy.” I’m a mother of three in my 40s. I’ve never exactly feared pregnancy, but I know what they mean. In our culture, pregnancy is often treated as a liability, something embarrassing to have to admit to, something to “deal with.” And in many circles, motherhood, or even parenthood more generally, isn’t aspirational: it’s an afterthought, something to fit in when you think the time is right, maybe. 

Why does something so basic as procreation have many modern men and women hesitant at best, and fearful or disinterested at worst? Maybe our approach to sex education has something to do with it. 

In January of this year, Substack writer Johann Kurtz wrote an essay suggesting a link between our societal obsession with eliminating teen pregnancy to the decline in the total fertility rate. “It turns out if you eliminate teenage pregnancy from your society, you basically turn off the fertility of women between the ages of 20 and 35,” he wrote. A bold topic, to be sure, but the article was intended to spark thinking about the story we’re telling about pregnancy, from how we think about it culturally to how we communicate those values to our young people. It definitely did that for me—I actually can’t stop thinking about it.

Our collective feelings about pregnancy are a bit strange: we generally see it as a good thing only if it happens exactly when and how we want it to. Consider the phrase “unplanned pregnancy.” Linguistically, it simply means a pregnancy that wasn’t intended, a natural and neutral result of the sexual act. However, culturally, it has a completely negative connotation, almost indicative of a catastrophe. A married friend once shared that both of her pregnancies were unplanned, and that some people have reacted with surprise and even disgust upon learning that. 

What does it say about our societal values that “unplanned pregnancy,” even inside of marriage, can have a negative meaning? Imagine someone got an unplanned job promotion. It might be a little challenging: perhaps the family has to move, or the person has to navigate longer hours or increased stress. But overall, we’d consider it a good thing. Why, then, is an unplanned pregnancy—even in a marriage—viewed by some with such scorn? It’s worth considering that this may reveal we value professional success quite a bit more than family formation.

Which brings us back to teenage pregnancy. The dominant story here is one of judgment, the implication being that pregnancy is bad for young lives, women’s lives, especially. However, the research and the stories on the ground don’t neatly align with this cultural view of pregnancy-as-life-ruiner. Despite the fact that becoming a parent at a young age often re-arranges one’s values and fast-tracks maturity, our approach to fertility with young people continues to be mostly don’t get pregnant; it will wreck your future. “The only acceptable path forward is avoiding pregnancy in service of a further education and professional career,” writes Kurtz. 

Becoming pregnant while a teenager, especially outside of marriage, is far from ideal. No one is arguing for more single motherhood. But we seem to have collectively agreed to messaging and narratives that unnecessarily malign the creation of new life. 

Then we have our formalized education. Most sex ed centers on contraception, and it’s telling to look at the word that is the most common synonym for contraception: protection. What, exactly, are we wanting young people to protect themselves from? Well, STDs for one, but more generally, pregnancy. Is it possible that this has an insidious effect of branding pregnancy and fertility as undesirable? After all, you don’t need protection from good things, only bad and/or dangerous ones. Another phrase, “safe sex,” comes to mind. 

No matter what the preferred approach is to sex education, no one seems to want young people to reproduce.

Abstinence-focused education is no better in this regard; the focus is still on avoiding pregnancy. No matter what the preferred approach is to sex education, no one seems to want young people to reproduce. “Despite the conflict between liberals and conservatives on nearly every topic available,” wrote Frederica Mathewes-Green, “this is one point on which they firmly agree: Young people absolutely must not have children.” 

It wasn’t always like this, and things don’t seem to be trending in a positive direction. People are having babies later in life, and many are having none at all. I think it’s worth asking: through our cultural and educational messaging, are we cultivating fear or negativity about parenthood and family life? Has immersion in these narratives and their accompanying language done something to the minds of our young people? 

It's an interesting consideration, but I don’t think we can be sure. Perhaps the most important question: Is there a better way?

A German organization founded by a female MD might have some answers. My Fertility Matters was started in 1999 by Dr. Elisabeth Raith-Paula and is the home of the most in-demand sex education programs in Germany. The foundation of its approach is body literacy for ages 9-12, education for boys and girls about their physical reproductive systems at an age where they’re on the cusp of the time of sexual maturity known as puberty. MFM has expanded significantly since its beginning and now has programs in many other countries, including the United States.

The MFM workshops are engaging and interactive—and several hours long, a contrast to the hour-long talk most 4th or 5th grade students get in U.S. schools. Boys learn about their bodies (and about the female body as well) in a James Bond-style experience called “Agents on a Mission.” Girls learn about the cyclical nature of theirs in a workshop called “The Cycle Show.” Both combine biological facts with a sense of wonder and respect for the creation of life. 

There’s no fear about fertility here. In fact, the motto of The Cycle Show is “I can only protect what I value and respect”— the female body and its capacity to bear new life is what needs to be protected. The boys, too, are given a sense of both awe and responsibility around the ability to generate new life. It’s a sex ed approach that’s different from the standard: not protecting from fertility but rather protecting of fertility.

If we desire more babies, it’s vital to consider the messages we’re sending to our youth. 

The programs of MFM, including one for teenagers that looks at contraception honestly (its risks included), establish a foundation of knowledge and respect for the body and its reproductive capacity. Young people are given good, positive information; then, they get to make their own decisions, which—let’s be honest—all young people do anyway, regardless of the education they receive. 

This approach is something we could learn from. Perhaps we could reform our sex education paradigm to include excellent body literacy and fertility awareness. Would this help to ease the sense that so many young people have that parenthood is not something to aspire to? I think so. If we teach them about the wonder of conception (we’re all here because of it) and the facts about their healthy, fertile bodies, the natural outcome will be more respect for both. Knowledge of fertility and a positive regard for it could very well lead to not only more pregnancies in general but also fewer undesired, non-marital pregnancies. 

I agree with Kurtz’s point that “[t]here’s an anti-natalist frame in our entire conception of what a ‘sex education’ should entail.” If we desire more babies, it’s vital to consider the messages we’re sending to our youth. What is currently an approach of negativity around fertility could become a foundation of knowledge and respect. A future where no woman fears pregnancy would be a very good one—and one where no person does would be even better.

Amber Adrian is an instructor for The Cycle Show in the United States. She also writes on Substack.

Editor's Note: The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or views of the Institute for Family Studies.