The Book on the Bed
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When I was young, sex was never talked about. I don’t remember ever asking any questions of my parents, I wasn’t a big talker and I’m still not.
About the age of 12 I came home one day to find a book on my bed called “Growing Up.” No one said a word, or asked about the book or what I thought of it. I read it of course, cover to cover, many times. It had a lot of information about puberty mainly, and in the center a separate section about sex and pregnancy. And that was it as far as ‘discussions’ went with my parents. I didn’t talk about sex with my peers either. Now as an adult I am slowly becoming more open, very slowly.
I still have difficulty in saying words relating to sexual activites, even so far as names for all the downstairs equipment. This is making it difficult for me in relation to my son.
He is only five and is slowly realizing that girls don’t have ‘winkies’ so he wants to know what they have and I find myself deflecting his question because I don’t know what to call it. We have no problems with boobies; he knows boys don’t have those (but do have nipples) and also that babies can get milk from them.
I hope that I can be more open than my parents when the time comes for him to start asking the difficult questions. I know I will do more than just put a book on his bed, but first I need to work on being more comfortable with myself.
–Submitted by S.
This is heart breaking to read; both your own parents neglect and the legacy it has left in your own relationship with your son. Good luck, be brave, be strong.