The Talk

Brought to you by Stephanie   Years ago my husband and I were sitting in a church Sunday School class when the topic came up of how to teach kids about human intimacy (that means SEX).  One man said the best way to go about it was to take your kids to a farm and let them watch the animals.  A woman said that it was important to let them know how wonderful it all is.  They felt it necessary to keep repeating themselves:   “Take them to a farm!”   “It’s sooooo  wonnnderfull.”   “Take them to a farm!”   “It’s soooo wonnderfull.”   And on and on.  I am not kidding.   Hands down, it was the absolute strangest church meeting I’ve attended, and sadly one of the most memorable.  My husband and I still say we should have tapped the lady on the shoulder and asked her for pointers.   Not too long after that, it was time for us to being educating our own offspring about the Facts of Life.  I was pregnant with our twins, and the very natural question occurred to our oldest daughter, who was seven: So how did those babies get in there, anyway?   I was determined not to make the same mistakes my parents made, which were telling me too young, not giving enough information, and acting like it was the most painfully embarrassing, dirty secret out there.   We’re a little short on farms, so that was not an option.  And even without cable t.v., we figure our kids are going to figure out just how wonderful the birds and the bees can be.  We decided a straightforward, factual discussion was the best route.   We came prepared with pencil and paper to draw a few sketches of female anatomy (I have since purchased a book that serves this purpose) and we simply told her what happens.  We (and by that I mean ME because my husband was too embarrassed to say anything) explained the mechanics of the whole thing, including touching and the act of intercourse, how mommies’ and daddys’ bodies work to produce special cells, and how that results in a baby.   I would like to think I was thorough without overloading her with information and also conveyed a This-Is-Completely-Natural attitude.  I don’t think I said it was wonderful, but I tried to point out that moms and dads did this because it felt good and it helps them feel close to each other.   What I did not realize was how un-memorable I must have made the whole thing, because she asked me about a year later how babies are made.  She seriously did not remember a thing about our first discussion except that we’d had it.  I can, apparently, make sex boring.   I went over the mechanics again, and also threw in more detailed discussion of puberty, menstruation, etc.  That part was not new – I have always wanted my girls to understand that growing up is normal and that their little girl bodies are not intended to stay little girl bodies.  I have yet to be reconciled to my slender and firm 21-year-old body morphing into a saggy 36-year-old mother-of-five body, but that is another topic for another day.   Another year, and I was pregnant again.  The first words out of Kira’s mouth were, “Whoa, you guys had sex?!?”  I guess she thought only other mommies and daddys did that.  I now realize that teaching children about intimacy, puberty and the more delicate workings of the human body is a process.  We’re not going to have one Talk and be done with the subject, and I’m going to have to go over it and over it and over it.    Last week I started the process with my second daughter, Lizzy.   We had long wondered why she, unlike her big sister, never seemed curious about where babies come from, but finally decided it was time to unload the facts on her anyway.  My husband, not wanting to have to sit through another description of What Mom and Dad Do After You Go to Bed, suggested I talk to Lizzy while he and Kira were both gone for the week.   It went like this:   I put it off.   Then one night Hallie and Sophia were talking about how they grew together in my tummy.  They love this topic because they love that they’ve always been together.  Hallie finished the discussion with, “How did we get in your tummy, Mommy?”   Lizzy replied, “Didn’t you pray to Heavenly Father for a baby and then they started growing there?”   Wow, wouldn’t that be a different world?  The atheists would have died out real fast and infertility would be nonexistent   “No, Lizzy, I think we need to talk about that.”   And so I did, right there at the dinner table.  Naturally Hallie, Sophia and Scarlett were done eating long before we got to ovulation.  They ran around like the hooligans they are and Lizzy protested like the opinionated mini-grownup she is.   “That’s disgusting!”   “Please keep thinking that for another 15 years, okay?”   I think it went well except for the interference of my three little ones.  Hallie, anxious about our missing family members, was having potty accidents, and Scarlett needed her usual 7pm bath.  I was running around mopping up messes and placating the baby while chasing Lizzy with the “All About Your Body” or whatever the name of that book is.   “Lizzy, let me show you this picture of a uterus.” “No!  I don’t want to see it!”   Being older than Kira was when we first talked to her, Liz had more questions, like do couples have a baby every time they have sex?  This required a brief overview of birth control, and all told I think she got a fairly thorough overview of the entire subject.  I do wish, however, that I had waited until my three youngest girls were asleep before beginning the discussion.   I did, I want you to know, include the admonition that sex is meant for married couples.  I talked to both of them about chastity and the consequences of immorality.  I went lightly over that topic, though. I figure that first, it’s important for kids to know what “it” is when you tell them to not do “it.”   For now we mostly talk about modesty, and how inappropriate it is for kids their age to “go out” or date (which happens disturbingly often).    I am fully prepared to talk their ears off in the coming years about why I feel so strongly about abstinence before marriage, and how exactly to make that happen (or would that be not happen?).  They are going to have a very thorough understanding that teenage boys DO NOT think the same way about romance that teenage girls do.   I can’t know right now if I’ve done my job right.  In 20 years, if none of them became mothers at 14, I suppose I will declare Sex Education by Stephanie a success.  It not, I will know that I should have taken them to a farm.  Although I think they’ll figure out on their own that sex is wonnnderfulll.