This article appeared in Oprah Magazine. Read the full story here.
Most people get vaccinated against diseases like measles, mumps, pertussis, and influenza because they fear contracting a serious illness and they trust the wisdom and competence of the medical community. But some believe the real threats are the vaccines themselves—and on this point, they don’t trust the experts at all. We talked to three women who were once opposed to getting immunizations for themselves and their children but eventually changed their minds. They shared their stories in an effort to create a more fruitful national dialogue about the importance of immunizations.
Katie Glisson, 28
Jacksonville, Florida | Exposure scientist and new mother
While earning my bachelor’s degree in environmental and public health, I worked at a wellness center where some practitioners would say negative things about “modern medicine” and that vaccines were unnecessary if you ate well, exercised, and took great care of yourself. One of them referred me to a website with a lot of anti-vaccine information. After reading it and articles it linked to, I, too, began to believe the conspiracy theories that said the shots could make you sick, drugmakers were getting rich off “worthless” protection from “minor diseases,” and pro-vaccine research was rigged by Big Pharma.
In graduate school, I took classes in topics like toxicology and risk assessment, and it became clear to me that I’d been looking at vaccinations from a purely emotional point of view, not a critical one. The clincher was working on my thesis. The process showed me what it takes to do a rigorous study and get it published in a peer-reviewed journal: Experts in the field carefully evaluate every aspect of your research and methodology and ensure that the information is valid and useful. It made me realize how wrong I was to have thought the peer-reviewed scholarly articles showing that vaccines are effective and safe were all “rigged.” It also taught me how flawed the anti-vaccination “research” was—unsupported facts, unfounded conclusions, stats without objective sources, biased anecdotes.
Today I’m fully up-to-date on all my vaccinations, and I’m following the CDC recommendations for vaccinating my 6-month-old daughter. When I think about how I used to go around saying that vaccines don’t matter, I feel like I let my friends and family down. But I remind myself that at the time, I believed I was saving them from danger.
I keep that in mind when talking to people who are anti-vaccine. I try to calmly share peer-reviewed, unbiased studies, and I point out when anti-scientific websites have conflicts of interest. (Many of the people behind these sites are making a profit from selling products such as supplements or “natural remedies” like oils or salves.) Just the other day a friend sent me a long article about why vaccines are dangerous. While being respectful toward her, I refuted the article line by line, providing solid scientific sources—like data from the World Health Organization—for each point. Even if my email doesn’t convince her, I hope I planted a seed of doubt.
Jeri Young, 38
Circleville, Ohio | Stay-at-home mother and aquatics instructor
After giving birth to my first child, I joined a natural parenting group online—something I felt an affinity for, since I planned to breastfeed exclusively, use cloth diapers, and not circumcise. I read all the stories members posted about how bad vaccines were—that they could potentially cause brain damage or even death. But I also knew that vaccines could prevent dangerous illness. I was scared and confused. I really didn’t know what to believe.
So with my son, I just tried to avoid the shots altogether—by skipping doctor appointments and lying about his immunization history, even though this ate me up with guilt. But then my daughter was born, and she had trouble gaining weight. I knew that in order to get a doctor’s help, we’d need to vaccinate her. So we did. But once she started gaining weight, at around 3 months, I stopped taking her in.
My daughter was entering kindergarten when my friend’s 2-month-old baby came down with pertussis. He struggled to breathe; he’d literally start to turn blue. It broke my heart to see how sick he was. That’s when it hit me: Unvaccinated children like mine could have passed the illness to that sweet baby.
My kids could also get the disease—and it would be all my fault. Not long afterward, another friend’s 6-month-old needed a liver transplant, and I learned that he couldn’t be around anyone who wasn’t vaccinated. I started thinking about how dependent we all are on one another, and I realized it was my responsibility—not just to my family but to everyone around me—to get my children vaccinated. I reached out to vaccinating parents in person and in online forums, and I read some medical studies they recommended. To my surprise, I couldn’t find anything that undeniably linked vaccines to health problems.
I live in a state that permits philosophical exemptions, so my three children were allowed to attend school unvaccinated. But by the time my older kids were 9 and 6—they’re now 15 and 12—they were totally caught up on their shots. My 2-year-old son has had every vaccine on time. I’m really proud of that. And I’m finally one-hundred-percent confident in my decisions about immunizations.
Jodi Rose Crump, 47
Herndon, Virginia | Mother and writer
I was raised as an ultra-conservative Christian Scientist, fourth generation. One of the core beliefs I grew up with is that you cannot mix medicine and prayer; if you do, neither will work. And if you take the prayer route—which you will—then you can’t go to a doctor, take medicine, or get vaccines because that would show a lack of faith.
Like a lot of Christian Science kids, I attended a summer camp in Missouri called Cedars Camps. The year I was 16, we had a bad measles outbreak, and all campers had to be quarantined, sent home, or given the measles shot. I wanted to take a stand for Christian Science. I was like, “I haven’t caught any of these horrible diseases—and that’s because prayer works!” But my parents said I had to follow the law and get immunized. I’d never had anybody stick a needle in me. I was scared. And being given the shot against my will felt like a violation of my beliefs. I was supposed to get a follow-up shot, but I didn’t.
Almost three decades later, when I was 42, my dad died of complications from Parkinson’s, and people in the church insinuated it was because he hadn’t read enough Christian Science. Over the years, I’d gradually developed misgivings about not getting healthcare, and after losing my dad, I had a crisis of faith. I connected with some like-minded friends, and we found a Facebook group for former Christian Scientists. I began the slow process of leaving the religion.
At that time, my kids were 12 and 9. Every year we’d fill out the form for religious exemptions from vaccinations. But once I was no longer a Christian Scientist, I felt like I couldn’t do that. I still wasn’t convinced the shots were a good idea, and I had fears about an autism connection. Here’s the thing, though: My younger son already had some emotional processing issues, and prayer hadn’t helped—in fact, addressing the issues in public school is what really made a difference for him.
My sister-in-law is a nurse who was educated at Johns Hopkins. When I told her how scared I was about the effect vaccines might have on my kids, she told me she was going to vaccinate her baby when he was old enough. It’s safe for him, I thought, so why not for my boys? My sister-in-law was so kind and patient. She explained that the vast majority of children in the U.S. are vaccinated. I finally realized that herd immunity is what had been protecting me and other Christian Science kids—it wasn’t the prayer effect, but the fact that people in our town had been vaccinated and were therefore unlikely to spread the illness. It clicked: Most people had the shots, and most people are fine. We will be, too.
Today I’m fully vaccinated, and my kids are on track with their alternative schedules. We even get flu shots—in the past, we were always sick, but not anymore! And at the start of the school year, I can confidently say, “Yes, my children are protected.”
These are the vaccines the CDC recommends everyone get before age 18:
• HepB (hepatitis B)
• RV (rotavirus)
• DTaP (diphtheria, tetanus, acellular pertussis)
• Hib (Haemophilus influenzae type b)
• PCV13 (pneumococcal conjugate)
• IPV (inactivated poliovirus)
• Influenza (a.k.a. flu): Annually, ideally by the end of October.
• MMR (measles, mumps, rubella)
• VAR (varicella, a.k.a. chicken pox)
• HepA (hepatitis A)
• MenACWY (meningococcal serogroups A, C, W, and Y)
• Tdap (tetanus, diphtheria, acellular pertussis)
• HPV (human papillomavirus)
• MenB (meningococcal serogroup B)
• PPSV23 (pneumococcal polysaccharide)
These shots are recommended for adults:
• Influenza: Annually, ideally by the end of October.
• Tdap or Td (tetanus and diphtheria) booster: Every ten years. Tdap is also recommended during the third trimester of each pregnancy.
• MMR
• VAR
• RZV or ZVL (zoster, a.k.a. shingles): Recommended for adults 50 and older.
• HPV: People can benefit from the vaccine up to age 26.
• PCV13 and PPSV23: One dose of each is recommended for adults 65 and older, at least one year apart.
• HepA
• HepB
• MenACWY
• MenB
• Hib