As a child, I was shy and preferred the company of my books over social interactions. Those late-night reads were my window into the complexities of the world. I still remember the little secrets I kept—like that embarrassing moment in second grade when I accidentally had an accident in the hallway or the times I’d sneak into the bathroom to avoid the teacher’s gaze when I hadn’t done my reading assignments.
But these were minor trials I could manage. Then came puberty, and everything changed.
I shared some things with my parents, like my achievements in math and my love-hate relationship with swimming. However, I kept the more painful experiences to myself. The cruel bullies who teased me about my body, my feelings of isolation as my best friend became more popular, and the boy who made my heart race were all hidden truths. I never mentioned my embarrassment about being the only girl in sixth grade without a bra or that I dreaded gym class because of the changes I was facing.
I wore T-shirts at the pool to cover my growing body hair and felt self-conscious about the scent I was starting to notice. I was terrified of getting my period, worried that I might never get it. Somehow, I managed to navigate this challenging phase—surviving the bullying, adopting my dad’s deodorant, and eventually embracing the changes in my body.
Adolescence is a tricky time; kids often pull away from their parents yet crave their support. I think my struggle was more pronounced than most. While many of my friends could talk to their moms about bras and hair removal, I felt trapped by my own fears.
Now, my son is nearing twelve, experiencing the early signs of puberty—oily skin and burgeoning leg hair. Thankfully, we have a strong bond and he confides in me about his feelings and changes. Yet, as a boy, he faces a different societal narrative; his changes are often celebrated rather than shrouded in confusion and shame, unlike those experienced by girls.
On the other hand, there’s my six-year-old daughter. As a mother, I know those innocent years will vanish in an instant, and I worry about her navigating the tumultuous waters of adolescence alone. Reflecting on my own relationship with my mother, who was loving but often made me feel ashamed of my feelings, I wonder how I can do better for my daughter.
My mother’s concerns about dating made adolescence feel like a trap instead of a natural development. I grew up believing that embracing my femininity would lead to judgment. I find it ironic that my daughter, unlike my younger self, is bold and unafraid to stand up to bullies. Recently, she mentioned a boy who makes her feel butterflies, and I could feel my old fears surfacing.
Instead of letting those thoughts dictate my response, I chose to validate her feelings, sharing my own childhood crushes. Would my own teenage experience have been easier had my mother acknowledged my emotions? I can’t say for sure, but I’m determined to foster open communication with my children. I want them to know my love is unwavering, regardless of the changes they face.
For more insights on navigating the journey of parenthood and puberty, check out our other blog posts, including one on the importance of communication during these transformative years. Additionally, if you’re looking for resources about pregnancy and home insemination, IVF Babble is an excellent source, while Make a Mom can guide you on fertility supplements.
In summary, as I navigate my daughter’s upcoming transition into adolescence, I aim to keep our lines of communication open, ensuring she feels comfortable discussing anything with me. I want to break the cycle of shame and instead celebrate the beauty of growing up.