I Was Not A Virgin

Getting a hymenectomy at twelve years old created an open door policy between us when it came to questions about my body, relationships, and intimacy. If I hadn’t been on the swim team, who knows how long it would have taken me to realize that the tampons weren’t working out so well and that I had a medical condition that would eventually require surgery to “pop my cherry”? There was really no coming back for us after the horrific pelvic exam while I was in middle school. They tried to make you leave the room so I could have privacy, but I was terrified of the doctor and her fingers and I begged you to stay. After that, I knew I could talk to you about anything.

It’s why I felt comfortable enough to ask you “what’s a blowjob?” after a boy texted me to ask if I liked them. I hadn’t the faintest idea what it was, but you explained and the conversation wasn’t even awkward. We had already had the talk about what it means when you lose your virginity due to the medical condition involving my hymen, so we breezed through blowjobs like it was nothing. Things got a little sticky when we discussed from the point of view of our faith what sexual purity meant, but we muddled through it and came out the other side, and still I knew I could talk to you about anything.

When I started college, I started birth control. I was newly engaged and wanted everything to be in order when I was married. You were the one who made my doctors appointment for me and went with me to it. We discussed with the doctor the different varieties and decided on the pill. That’s what you had taken for years, and it seemed to me like you knew exactly what you were talking about. And it worked for me. My hormonal acne and mood swings lessened, my cycle got in order. I still lived with you and you were helping me plan a wedding.

Becoming a wife at twenty, I wasn’t sure what the big deal about sex was. I knew I wasn’t orgasming, but I didn’t know how to fix it. I asked you, my mother, and you helped me navigate doing the dirty with my new groom. You helped my newly blossoming marriage with its quickly growing frustrations in the bedroom. My friends were appalled that I would share these details with my mother, but like it always had been, this was just another time when I had questions about my body and my bits and you were there.

You were with me during my labor and delivery process. You watched the cervical checks, the water breaking, and my bloody show fall to the floor. You helped my naked body climb into the tub during contractions. And when I didn’t know what the hell was happening to my body in the days following the birth of my baby, you were there, like you always had been.

You have always been so close to me that I have never felt uncomfortable showing and telling anything regarding my body. You have always been proud of me and the woman I have become and the choices I have made. You brag that I didn’t make the same mistakes you did - and that is why I can never admit that I was not a virgin when I got married. I know it would hurt you, not because of our religion, but because I have never held anything back before. The open door policy that previously existed would feel like it had been slammed shut in your face. After everything we have been through together, starting when I was a preteen, I can’t bring myself to disappoint you now by confessing too late to something I should have trusted you with when it happened.