Baby, You Were Born This Way

I remember asking a pregnant neighbor, when I was about 6-years old, how her baby was going to get out of her belly.  I recall vividly the uncomfortable nature in which she answered.  Her answer was quick, without thoughtfully pondering the magnitude in which it might affect my delicate little mind: “It pops out of your belly button” she said, changing the subject rapidly by asking me if I would like to play with her daughter’s favorite doll, who hadn’t made it home from school yet.

I remember years upon years of staring at my own belly button in the mirror thinking “Now, that’s GOT to hurt!” not even contemplating the truth and the horrendous pain that would actually ensue during the real thing, many years later. Some part of me still thinks that a baby popping out of a pregnant belly’s navel is still feasible, given the right circumstances.

Talking about reproduction and sex with our children now, has come a long way.  It used to be about discussing the differences between men and women anatomically. That was what was referred to as “the TALK”.  Explaining “The Birds and the Bees”, was pretty much it.  Not anything further.

My son was in fourth grade, when I received the notice home about the impending “movie” that was going to be shown the next day.  A few years earlier, when he was about 6 years old, he asked me how babies were actually born . I explained how babies came out of women’s bodies. Not my old neighbor’s version, of course, the real thing, using all the terms and correct names for body parts, to which he nervously asked if boys ever gave birth to babies.  When I reassured him that only girls gave birth, he dramatically wiped pretend sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand and said “Phewwww!”, with all the relief that his little body could muster. So for the fourth grade version, I got very detailed.  We talked about sex and what took place.  He looked shocked, but educated. I also carefully mentioned how important it was not to share these details with other kids at school or his little sister, as it was the parents’ decision as to when to tell their children this news.

My daughter’s experience went quite differently. She was intensely interested in the human body and surgical procedures from an early age. She loved to watch the Emergency Room documentaries on TV and expressed interest in becoming a surgeon at the age of 8 years old.  She wrote stories about surgery and “fixing people’, so I bought her books on the human anatomy, so that she could study them, refer to them and see detailed pictures.  One night, while I was driving home from a social gathering, with my husband in the passenger seat and my two kids in the back seat, my daughter made an announcement:

“I think I have figured out what sex is.” She said openly.  I felt my husband's body weight shift to the passenger side door, as if he was going to prepare for the appropriate moment to open the car door and jump out while we were still in motion.

“Great, tell us.” I said calmly.  More shifting from the passenger side.  I was sure my husband’s right cheek was now pressed against the window and his hand was on the door handle. My daughter explained, using all of the correct terminology, the act itself, to which my 11 year old son responded with: “Yup, that’s it!” as if he couldn’t hold it in any longer, and had been tortured keeping this information to him self over the last few years.

“Yes” I confirmed, “You, explained it very well” I said smiling.  I could tell that my husband, without him even uttering a word, was the most uncomfortable he has ever been.  I am not sure if I will ever get to witness that type of awkwardness again, where he is concerned.

After a few moments of silence, my daughter said cautiously “Wait…that means that YOU and DADDY…OH GROSS!!!”

“Yes sweetheart, we have, of course.” At this point, I am mentally noting, that my husband has been scarred for life. The damage is irreversible.

I have since had many conversations about sex with my children.  We have discussed homosexuality, trans gender surgery, abstinence, condoms, sexually transmitted diseases, menstruation, teen pregnancy, etc.  I believe that knowledge is power and tolerance is a must. 

Do I expect my kids to abstain from sex until they are married? Do I expect my kids to be sexually active? Do I even expect them to marry? Do I expect that my kids will be heterosexual? The answer to all of these is a resounding “That is THEIR decision, not mine”.

Do I expect my kids to be comfortable with their own bodies? Do I expect my kids to be comfortable with their own sexuality? Do I expect my kids to keep themselves safe?  Do I expect my kids to be responsible for their own reproduction? Do I want them to make self confident decisions? The answer to all of these is a resounding “Yes”.

This may not be the best approach for all parents.  It may not even be the best approach for me and my family. But I feel strongly about this: I will not let someone else be responsible for telling my children about these things.  I do not want their friends to inform them, or a TV show to clue them in, or for the lyrics of some song to shed the light.  I want them to hear it from me. I want to have open, frank discussions and leave no stone unturned. 

I do not expect all people to agree with me or follow me.  I do expect for others to appreciate that I want to educate my children in a way that I see fit to insure that they are comfortable with all of the answers to their questions. The birds and the bees just doesn't fly.