Did your gynecologist question your virginity too?

I was a virgin when I got married at 23. 

I went to the gynecologist because I wanted to go on birth control a few months before having sex for the first time.

I remember being so nervous for this check up. My hands were shaking and my armpits were sweating. I’d never had anyone prod around down there and I had no idea what this visit entailed (I’ve always thought it would be nice for gynecologists to have a “Is it your first time?” pamphlet for women so they can know what to expect at their first appointment— same for therapists too). 

On my drive there, I gave myself a pep talk. I planned on being vulnerable with my Gyno. Honesty seemed the best way to approach this whole thing. I planned on telling her I was nervous about this doctors visit. I also planned on telling her I was a virgin and nervous sex would hurt the first time. 

She was a professional— I thought it would be safe to ask her advice.

Instead, she made me feel small and ridiculous.

I wish I could go back and hug 22 year old Stacie sitting in that doctors office waiting room. I wish I could tell her the next thirty minutes didn’t need to define her self-worth or her sex life.

Before I share what happened with the Gyno, you have to understand, I was in the throws of passion with this guy I was about to marry— I was so excited to get him naked. 

I was also slightly terrified to get to the sex bit. I came from a conservative evangelical background (My high school sex ed class was taught by a teacher who had never had sex and I cannot remember actually learning how sex works in that class). I didn’t know much about what happened with sex other than the fact that I was ready to move beyond making out into something more… intimate. 

I was both innocent and trying not to be too curious about sex until it was time to have it because of my personal convictions to not have it until marriage.

I wish I had been less ignorant. I wish I had been more curious. And I wish the sexually active mentoring women in my life had gone into more detail about what to expect when it came to sex. But 1) I didn’t know what to ask, and 2) I have a hunch they didn’t want to be too TMI about it all. Two things I hope to remedy when it comes to women knowing how to talk about sex together moving forward.

If you’ve ever watched Bridgerton (CAN’T WAIT FOR SEASON 3 and POLIN RIGHT?!), I think they do a good job at portraying scenes where the men know all about sex, but the mothers keep their daughters in the dark about what sex is. Like, no discussion at all about it. No descriptions of what happens. No mental preparation. I resonated with those scenes so much, even with the little sex education my parents had given me when I was a kid. 

And you might be asking— why was I afraid it would hurt? A few reasons 1) Tampons hurt going in, so I never wore them. 2) One of my closest friends told me one of her sisters had cried her first time because it hurt so much. I didn’t want to have to cry through something that was supposed to feel good. That seemed absurd. 3) One of my professors in college had not been able to have sex because of vaginismus (I’d read her auto-biography my senior year, and that was the first time I had heard the word “vaginismus”). I knew there was a possibility of sex hurting. It was not weird to voice my concern to a professional.

I was called into her office and told her how nervous I was to be there. When I told her I was a virgin, she questioned me about my personal beliefs and why I felt I needed to be a virgin. I immediately felt judgement and didn’t feel safe, but I stayed in the office because I didn’t know leaving was an option. I didn’t know not answering her questions was an option. She told me she didn’t need to exam me that day if I’d never had sexual partners.

When I told her I was nervous sex would hurt… she laughed out loud and said, “I don’t know why women always think sex is going to hurt.” 

I could feel my cheeks getting hotter through every part of this conversation. I smiled back at her with my fake Texas-nice smile, even though on the inside I was getting smaller and smaller by the minute.

She didn’t ask me if I use tampons or whether or not it hurt to put tampons in. She told me to take a tylenol and to have a glass of wine and I’d be fine. I didn’t have the guts to mention to her that I wasn’t really a big alcohol drinker or that wine gave me terrible headaches. I had asked for advice, and she’d given it (she’d given me a bare minimum of advice btw, with zero empathy). 

I left that room embarrassed and somewhat hopeful that a tylenol would do the trick.

Spoiler alert. It. Did. Not. Do. The. Trick.

And if this experience wasn’t enough, she sent me away with a prescription for birth control. At no point did she tell me to pay attention to how birth control would affect my body. Like, how it could really give me LOW lows, the briefest of highs, make me feel depressed, or cause me to become a shell of a human. All of which it did. 

I walked out to my car with her laugh still ringing in my ears. My cheeks still red. 

I’m not the first woman with vaginismus to have a bad experience with a Gynelcologist. If you express you have pain or might have pain in sex, you should be given an abundance of helpful resources. And most certainly, your gynecologist should not laugh at you.

There are Gynecologists out there who can be helpful. Unfortunately, it might take a few visits to a handful of Gyenecolgists to find one who will actually give you helpful resources. But there are Gynos out there who won’t judge you for having pain in sex or judge you for “why” you have it. There are also Gynecologists out there who won’t make fun of you for being a virgin or question your reasons for being one. 

Ask your friends if they have a trusted Gynecologist they feel gives them empathy and understanding.

Every time I share my own Vaginimsus story, I almost always hear someone share their own right back to me. A co-worker, someone I supervised, a friend. One thing I’ve heard over and over again is— I didn’t know this pain I had has a name. Or, How come I’ve never been told about this? Or, I’ve been sexually active for ___ years, and my Gynecologist just told me I have this. 

Doctors, Nurses, and Gynecologists, I’m advocating you take your clients’ pain seriously. I wonder what it would look like to normalize your clients’ experience by helping them out when their symptoms sound like Vaginismus? I encourage you to let them know how birth control can affect them. I challenge you to extend empathy and remember not everyone is as comfortable with discussing sexual health as you might be.

Thank you to the Gyno’s who inform women and men about Vaginismus and who are resources to women during a very alone-feeling time. Thank you to the Doctors and Gynecologists who want their patients to have awesome sex, whether or not it’s vaginal.

If you need help having a discussion with your Gynecologist, please feel free to hit me up! I’d love to help you make a plan for what to say and what to ask!