The summer before my senior year in high school, I attended a week-long summer program for girls. The camp was centered around the idea of teaching and training young women on getting involved in local and large-scale government opportunities, and showing how policies within government work. It was a huge learning experience for me, and I met a lot of powerful, smart young women who I have no doubt will someday run the world.

On the third day of the week spent there, I heard my next-door neighbor moaning in pain. We were on a college campus, so she was basically just across a shared bathroom from me. I knocked on her door and rushed in to see what was wrong. She was lying on her bed, no blood or cuts or bruises on her, clutching her stomach, almost in tears. She explained to me that her period was due to start the next day, and her pre-menstrual cramps were just this bad every month. When I asked what I could do to help, she only asked me to get her heating pad from her suitcase and plug it in for her. She told me all she could do was apply heat to her abdomen for comfort and stay in her room for the day, waiting for them to subside.

When I saw her that night, I recommended my OB-GYN to her. I told her that I loved my doctor; I could discuss matters of my body and my sex life with my doctor and, despite my being in high school, I never felt judged. I was on the pill at the time and it helped to regulate my periods, but I told my neighbor that other forms of birth control might work better for her.

My neighbor, we'll call her Julie, practically laughed in my face. "Honey, the reason I came to campus late is that my parents wouldn't skip church for registration. They would never let me go on birth control."

I found this to be downright outrageous. “What do you mean they won’t put you on birth control? Haven’t you told them how bad your periods are?”

“They’ve seen how bad my periods are. They think that once I’m on birth control, I’ll start having sex. They’re very religious.”

“Do you want to have sex?”

“No,” she responded instantly. “That’s one thing I don’t care about. I have no urge to have sex until I’m married.”

I was stunned. If her parents knew that she didn’t want to have sex, had horrible pain that forced her into bed all day long (once a month, mind you. She had to take a sick day just for her period problems twelve times a year), and could find/use a good OB, why wouldn’t they seek some help for her?

After the week ended and we all went home, my neighbor messaged me on Facebook. She asked me if I would consider accompanying her to an appointment at Planned Parenthood. I told her that I wished I could, but I had to work the day that she set the appointment. She later told me about the experience over text. She said: “Everyone was really professional. They asked about my parents and told me that I should tell them about the medications that I’m taking, for medical emergency purposes, but they didn’t refuse my prescription. I got on the pill. They say it’s supposed to help with the cramping and the unpredictability, so I’m hoping that’s true.”

A few months later, I checked in on her. She told me that her periods were almost always 100% easier to deal with, her parents still didn’t know that she was on the pill, she still attended church and prayed about it, and she was still a virgin and planned to stay that way.

Planned Parenthood has its downfalls, like any business or medical practice. I’m pro-life, so I don’t support the abortion side of it. But I want their doors to stay open for reasons like this. I want women to feel comfortable in their bodies and not pressured to simply deal with the pains of menstruation.

I want to encourage people who are against the organization as a whole to do their research. I'm with you, I don't believe in abortion. Does my not believing and constant preaching make any difference to those whose opinions aren't the same? It. Absolutely. Does. Not. So I'm stating my opinion and letting it be: I don't believe in abortion. I believe there are other ways.

I also want to encourage those of you who don't have a vendetta against Planned Parenthood to do your research on doctors. I lucked out with my OB-GYN. She's the first one I've been to and she's forever made me feel safe, comfortable, and justified in my needs. A good OB is like a good bra: you never realize how bad you need one until you've finally had one.

Birth control gets a bad rep, mostly because of the name. If we were being honest about why we use it, many women wouldn't call it birth control. Some would call it, "Period Pain Subsides" or "Period Mess Prevention" (we all know it's true, let's just get it out in the open. Birth control helps to prevent excessive menstrual blood). I don't believe that birth control automatically leads to sex or vice versa. Birth control is not only used for sex, I can't stress that enough. It can help women in so many beautiful ways.

In quoting Rachel Green, I would like to say, "No uterus, no opinion". Those of us who do have a uterus, no matter what your opinion on birth control is, can agree that periods can feel horrible. Sometimes I feel like God is having a good laugh at my expense when it's my time of the month. Anything that I can do to stop that kind of pain from being regular, you bet your ass I'm going to do it.

Last but not least, contraceptives aside, let's not forget about this wonderful form of birth control. The one that is so cheap and easy, if you don't have them, you're simply not using the brains that God gave you: