I’m not sure this is always true. There are certain areas that tend to be highly personal and sensitive, to the point that even if one is doing the right thing, criticism (or comments that can be construed as such) can result in anger, anxiety, and defensiveness.
I’m told that for some men, especially those highly invested in their jobs, that their careers can be such an area. For example, another guy making a disparaging comment about the area that a man works in, or the effort he’s putting into it, can result in anger and irritation, even if a guy is working hard and generally doing a good job in a morally good or neutral field.
On the other hand, childbearing/feeding tend to be areas that can affect women in that regard. When DD was an infant, I wasn’t able to breastfeed for various reasons, despite the efforts and assistance of numerous medical personnel and lactation consultants. I knew I gave it a good try–as it happens, I tried harder than anyone I’ve ever met–but it didn’t work, so I fed DD formula, on which she thrived. I also had a C-section because she couldn’t be delivered the usual way; babies who insist on trying to come out sideways simply don’t fit that way.
On an intellectual level, I could look at the fact that I had a C-section and formula fed, and know they were certainly the correct choices for us in those circumstances. Without the former, we’d have both died a really horrible death, and without the latter, unless I could find another woman to nurse DD, she’d have starved. No one with half a brain, knowing the circumstances in question, would doubt that those were the right choices. Nonetheless, it took me a very long time to not feel the overwhelming urge to break down in angry, defensive tears every time someone asked me if I was breastfeeding, or why I had a C-section, or something similar. Why? Because those options, in our society’s understanding of motherhood, touch on the fundamental question of whether I was a good mother, and in many circles, especially Catholic moms’ circles, to not breastfeed or deliver naturally is seen as a moral flaw on the part of the mom, as a decision that makes them less of a mother. This is, of course, wrong, but it’s a deeply emotional subject because it has to do with one’s moral and spiritual worth.
Now, I was able to separate my intellectual knowledge from my feelings on the subjects (ie, “Without these things, which are, in fact, morally neutral, we’d both be dead, so I’m grateful for them”) from my emotional reaction (“only a bad mother would have a C-section or formula feed, and you aren’t a
real mother because you made those decisions, and you’re a bad
Catholic mother to boot.”) Eventually, I was able to (mostly) conform my emotions to my intellect, but it took time, as I imagine it does most people who make such highly-emotionally-charged decisions.
I should think that the decision to use NFP to avoid may well be similar for a lot of families, in that a couple might decide intellectually “for our family at this time, we should avoid having more children if possible because of X, Y, or Z good reason, and we’ll re-evaluate if those reasons change at some point” but still feel attacked and emotional when they hear something like “Catholic families should strive to be large,” even though it would be an objectively unwise idea to add to that particular family at that particular time, and they’re doing nothing wrong in using NFP to avoid.