My husband and I have always been open with our kids. If they have a question, we do our best to answer it. That goes for sex too. If they ask, we will answer. Of course, we always make sure the answer is age appropriate, but we never shied away from the topic, never made it a taboo subject in the home. This resulted in a very strange and uncomfortable, but also amazing conversation a few years ago.
This is pretty much how I remember it happening:
- – – – – – – – –
“Hey babe what’s up?” I answered my cell, already aware it was James, my husband calling.
Are you home?”
”Yeah, why?”
“Carson called she wants me to pick her up at Chris’s. She sounded upset, said she needed to talk to us. . . both of us.”
“How upset?” I asked
“Crying.” my husband was succinct in his answer.
Alarms went off, “Is she safe? Did something happen? Maybe I should go get her, I’m closer.” Mamma bear was coming out, full force.
“I don’t know, she just said to pick her up and that she needed to talk to both of us.”
“I’m gonna call her.” I tell him. We both had an inkling what this was about, we didn’t even need to discuss it, we knew.
“Okay, tell her I’ll be there in like thirty minutes, I need to finish up here first.”
“K, bye.”
Hanging up, I quickly located her in my recent calls and touched her name.
“Hey mom.” was her teary answer.
“Hey hon, are you okay? Are you safe?”
She laughed, which only made me grit my teeth. I’m worried about her and she’s laughing.
“Yes mom, I’m safe.” Can you actually hear an eye roll?
“Well, what do you expect?” I said exasperated, “My 17-year-old daughter calls, crying from her boyfriend’s house, saying she needs to talk to us? What am I supposed to think?”
“Well, I’m okay, I just need to talk to you.”
Why do teenagers have to be so flippin mysterious all the time? “Alright, dad will be there in thirty and I’ll be here waiting.”
“Sure mom, love you, bye.”
Ah crap, I thought as I disconnected the call, my daughter and her boyfriend had been going out for about a year now. I was pretty sure I knew what this was all about. Trying to calm myself with menial labor I did the dishes and had started folding laundry in the master bedroom when they finally came in the door.
Carson’s face was blotchy from crying and she didn’t look like her usual, confident, me-versus- the-world self. She slumped into the room and collapsed across the bed sending matched socks and underwear flying. Too curious to care, I jumped right in. “Alright, we’re both here, what did you need to talk about?”
She pushed herself up to a seated position and I sat next to her. Both of us were cross legged on my side of the bed her dad lying across his side of the, bed facing us. “Well. . .” she hemmed and hawed a bit using her fingernail to pick at an embroidered flower on the comforter, tears starting to trail down her face.
When it seemed like she wasn’t going to speak my husband, never one for waiting, asked, “Do you want us to tell you what we think it is?”
She looked relieved, “Yes.”
“We think you had sex for the first time and now you’re freaking out.” She started crying in earnest but at least this got her talking.
“Okay, yes, we did it like twice, once a few weeks ago and once last week.” she paused, “But now I’m having really bad pains in my stomach, like I’m being stabbed and it’s not time for my period, I’m even bleeding a little. We looked it up on-line”
“We?” I interrupted.
“Yeah, me and Chris.”
Surprised, I said, “Continue.”
“So, we looked it up and it said all these scary things and Chris was crying and saying how he ruined me.”
I was the one rolling their eyes this time.
She was getting really worked up now and I cut in. “First, did you use condoms?”
“Yes.” she answered not looking up from the flower she was demolishing having picked out about half the threads that made up the stem.
“Okay, well you’re on the pill.” I looked at her sideways, “Have you missed any?”
“No.” she answered with a little more spirit, “I set an alarm, I take it every day”.
“Good, then the chance you’re pregnant; wait, that is what you’re worried about right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, chances of that are slim to none but I’ll get a test for you so you won’t worry about it”.
“Thanks mom.” she said sounding relieved and finally looking up at me.
It was strange hearing this. I had really been hoping they wouldn’t do it yet. She had promised me she wouldn’t have sex until she was 18 and like an idiot I had believed her. Until this guy, she had shown no interest in that sort of thing. Her selectiveness giving me false hope.
My husband, unable to sit still any longer, got up and grabbed some clothes before going into the attached bathroom. He left the door cracked so he could still be a part of the conversation. He started changing from his work clothes to sweats and a tee shirt while calling out, “You’re gonna be fine hon.”
This really didn’t seem to be phasing him. She smiled, relieved.
While I was horribly disappointed and sad that my baby girl, my oldest child, my first born had done this terrible, wonderful, awful, amazing thing, I knew that I needed to do more for her.
I had recently watched a TED Talk* about the dichotomy of male and female enjoyment of the sexual act and what exactly defines intimacy. It had talked about empowering women to seek their own pleasure and not be content to simply not be hurt or embarrassed or scared. As I talked to my daughter, I realized I also needed to empower her. I asked, “Have you seen each other naked?” Crazy question right? I mean they had sex, of course they saw each other naked.
“No” she said sounding scandalized and blushing to the roots of her hair.
“What!” I practically yelled. “How do you have sex and not. . . wait,” I held up my hand. “Don’t answer that.” I took a deep breath, “Did you enjoy it?” I finally asked after debating in my mind how to phrase it or if I even wanted to know the answer and deciding to just go for it.
She shrugged her shoulders, “Kinda.” My eyes widened, kinda? Freakin’ kinda? I love my daughter and even if she is, to my way of thinking, way too young and not ready for this, I believed I would have wished something much better for her than “kinda” for her first time. Seriously, kinda? I closed my eyes for a moment.
“Let’s make a plan,” I finally said. She looked alert and ready to hear what I was going to say, like I’m suddenly the sex guru or something. What has my life come to?! “Do you feel that maybe with this big freak-out you might not be ready for sex yet?”
“Oh yeah.” she answered. “Big time, I CANNOT be pregnant at sixteen.” Her horror was real, but while her words were just what every parent wants to hear I knew that the damage was already done, it was going to happen again, but the sentiment was nice.
“How about we take this in stages?” I said. She sat in rapt attention as I counted off on my fingers, “First step, why don’t you two see each other naked, really no point in having sex if you can’t even look at each other naked.” She nodded.
“Second step, don’t do it again until you’ve figured out a way, together, that you can enjoy it, and this part is important, as much as he does. And third, please consider doing other things, there’s using your hands.” She nodded again. “Or your mouths.” I purposely pluralized mouths so she would recognize that that needed to go both ways.
Now she screwed her face up in disgust, sex is no problem, but the thought of oral is just too much for her. “Eeeewww! That is sooo gross. I could never mom.”
“Seriously! You’ll let him have sex with you but god forbid you use your mouths?” I took a breath, “Fine, fine some people have a problem with it I guess. But just know it is an option that won’t end in pregnancy.”
“Alright, alright.” She uncovered her ears. “I get it.”
I looked at her sadly and said what was in my heart. “I love you sweetie, and I am so happy you felt you could come to us with this,” She smiled. “But, while I sound all cool and stuff you have to know that I am kinds disappointed”
She looked down the tears starting to fall again, “I know mom, that’s what was so hard, I wasn’t crying cause I thought you’d be mad, I was crying cause I knew you’d be disappointed, I knew you wanted me to wait.”
“Eighteen.” I said, giving her a nudge and a smile. “You promised.”
She smiled a little through her tears, “I know mom and after this I probably won’t have a problem waiting ‘til then”.
I held up my hand, “As much as I wish it were true, I’m a realist, I know you won’t, but please take what I said seriously. I think you need to take some steps before rushing into this again.”
“I know, love you mom!” she threw her arms around me and we hugged tight. “Hey!” my husband spoke up “What about me?”
“Eh, your all right too” she teased him, leaning over to give him a hug and then leaving the room.
My husband and I looked at each other from across the room. We spoke at the same time, our words over lapping “Ho-ly shit!”
*by Peggy Orenstein: What Young Women Believe About Their own Sexual Pleasure
Rebecca Lamprey 