What follows are my thoughts on how I talk to my kid about body parts and why I think it could change the world if we all did it EARLY and without made up words.

A patient of mine, in for her annual exam, had her 3.5 year old twins in tow.  They quietly, meandered around the exam room while she and I talked.  Then, when I did her pelvic exam and pap smear, they both wanted to know what I was doing.  “What are you doing to her woo woo?”  Like so many women I encounter, this sweet patient shooed them away to sit down.  She mused, “How on earth do you talk to a 3 year old about THIS kind of thing?”   “This” of course meaning her vagina and her gyn exam.

(Note: This example is fabricated from the collective of many strikingly similar encounters I have with my lovely patients.  It is NOT conveying a private, actual interaction.  Any similarity to real patient encounters is coincidence.)

In situations like this, I’m immediately frustrated and think, what do mean, how do you talk about this kind of thing?  You use your words, lady!  

However, after reflecting on my reaction, I had a face-palm-obvious epiphany that made me feel sheepish: the innocent discomfort with discussing intimate body parts with toddlers isn’t a defect or one particular person’s fault.  It likely evolved from generations of people not talking openly about this anatomy.  The grown women I see, like so many of their peers, are often not accustomed to talking matter of factly about genitals.  So, it’s absurd for me to expect them to be easy going about breaking things down for their toddlers.  How to talk to your child about their body is a complex topic!

And it’s not that people can’t develop this comfort, but in situations like the above, they’re just not there yet.  Societally, this has got to change.  I believe changing how we educate our kids about their bodies is the starting point for this change.

{{First, a disclaimer: There are so many opinions about what to tell children about their bodies, how to talk to your child about their body and the ideal time to do it.  Google “what does your son/daughter call their private parts” and 15-29 MILLION results return.  What follows is my take on it.  In the parenting sea of advice giving know it alls, I’m no parenting expert.  My husband and I are figuring things out one week at a time.  I recognize that everyone needs to make their own choices.  Just because this is what we do, does not mean I’m admonishing a wagging finger at anyone for what they choose to do.}}

That being said, I think there are some solid reasons to start anatomical education early.  

Yo, what are these reasons, you ask?  

1- People who have self knowledge about their bodies can communicate accurately when there is a problem.

2-  When anatomy is seen as a neutral subject, there’s less embarrassment, shame and fear about the unknown workings of parts usually classified as “private parts”.

3- Knowing anatomy AND anatomical function in a matter of fact manner, makes the topic of sex less of a hush hush black box.  

4- When bodily functions and sex are demystified, I’d wager that sex is better, communication is easier and sexually transmitted infections and unplanned pregnancies could go down.  Yes, this is my pie in the sky wish!

So, for these reasons, I wish my patients had better understandings of their lady parts and could therefore be an empowering resource for the next generation.  To this end, my husband and I are working to do our part by telling our daughter, who just turned 3, all her body parts by their actual names.  

Keep in mind, my husband and I don’t have many areas of expertise to share with our daughter.  We aren’t musical or artsy.  But we know medical things and a lot about bikes.  So, we tell her about body parts the same way we tell her about the parts of the bike like saddle, top tube and crank.  As for bodily parts, it seems so important that she knows the basics things like labia, vagina, urethra, clitoris, butt/bottom, anus, breasts, nipples as well as the equivalent male anatomy.  Since she has a hemangioma under her eye, she also knows all about hemangiomas.

So, for example: If she is looking at her labia in the bathtub, I’ll say, “that’s your labia.  The bigger fleshy ones are the labia majora and those tiny pink ones inside are the labia minora.  And inside the labia minora is your urethra, where pee comes out.  Farther back and inside is the vagina.”  

 She will usually say like, “And you have a vagina too, just like me.  And when I get older, my labia will have hair on it,” which as you can imagine, keeps the mood light and makes me laugh.

For me the key to telling her about her body parts is to use the same tone when discussing knees, elbows, hemangiomas and belly buttons as I use for her vagina and urethra.

Side note: We also have recently started adding in comments about how her labia, vagina, bottom and breast areas are her special/private parts.  These are parts that only her parents and doctors can touch.  I’m still refining my spiel for how it’s ok for her teachers to help her with these “special, private parts” if she needs help or is hurt.  (Any insightful tips from you seasoned parents are always welcomed!)

Why do we use the anatomical names?  First, my husband is a nurse and I’m a gynecologist. Given our work, we are both comfortable with body parts and bodily functions.  

Secondly, I see several problems in my adult patient population that stem from a lack of education about anatomy.

Huge deficits in bodily knowledge manifest in grown women (I’m talking 25-65 year old) presenting with a problem as they struggle to describe where the problem is.  

They’ll say, “I have this pain right down there.”

Down there?  Your toes?  Or down there, eyes wide, whispering, near your vagina?  Down there isn’t tremendously helpful.  Is the pain inside or outside your vagina?  Is it near your urethra?  Is it your labia, your anus, your clitoral area?  Where, specifically, does it hurt?  

 Or, I hear this, “I know I’m not supposed to do this/I know this is weird/how do I say this/this is so awkward, but, I felt inside, you know, inside my (whispers) vagina and there was this hard thing inside there.  It was a ball shape hard thing!  What is that????”

First, 99% of the time, that ball shaped hard thing always ends up being their cervix.  Secondly, I’m SO impressed by the courage it takes to bring up something they are clearly not comfortable talking about.  But I’m dismayed that they had to experience the angst in the first place.  It would have been so easy to prevent had they been informed about their body as a younger person.

Or, this: “I have never had an orgasm.  Is that normal?”

This conversation usually entails lots of reassurance, lots of normalizing their concern, an anatomy lesson about the labia, vagina and clitoris, talking about any taboos they associate with sex, investigating for a history of abuse, emotional stressors, or simple communication difficulties, and a talk about masturbation. I explain that while it is very common for women to have not orgasmed that there is often times a straightforward way to remedy the issue.  We discuss the fact that vaginal intercourse without clitoral stimulation is the equivalent of massaging a man’s testicles.  Sure, some guys can climax without penile stimulation, but that’s not the majority.   While I really enjoy the education aspect of my work, sometimes I’m completely floored by the numbers of women who don’t know about their clitoris or any of their other anatomical parts.  ((Yes- this may be a cultural phenomenon of the geographic area where I practice, but it still amazes me.))

Therefore, the core problems I see are the following:

• Women (and men) weren’t taught about their body parts as kids.
• This innocent ignorance leads to not knowing how to describe normal and problematic things.
• Thus, they develop a self consciousness & awkwardness discussing anything within 5 inches of their genitals
• This discomfort and ignorance fuels a poor understanding about functionality.
• This gap in anatomical function underpins misconceptions about sex.
• Which leads to crummy sex and relationship stress.
• All this results in grown ass women (and men) not knowing how to discuss anatomy and sex with each other, much less with their kids.

This perpetuates the blackbox mentality surrounding “private-parts” and sex.  

So, I think it’s vital to educate about anatomy and to do it early, without made up names replacing anatomic names.  Note: I’m not saying it’s wrong to have fun and be creative with descriptions of genitalia.  Hearing kids use names like danglies, front butt, lady bits, va jay jays, turtles, hot dog buns, etc are endearing.  But, I think it’s unwise to use these nonspecific, non-generalizable words without also knowing the anatomical names.  

Why else do we use the anatomical names?  

1. We want our daughter to grow up with a good understanding of her anatomy.
2. We see no reason to cloak genitalia with more mystique than other body parts
3. We prefer early education to normalize those “private parts” so that as she matures she has a vocabulary that enables her to discuss concerns and questions more easily.
4. I don’t want her to grow up not knowing her own body!  Dammit, my kid will not be 30 years old and still not know the difference between her labia minora, her vagina, her urethra and her clitoris.  She will know that indeed, there are 3 holes down there (thank you Orange is the New Black for making this “whole other hole topic” part of a funny story line).  Click ONLY if you aren’t at work AND aren’t offended by crass language.  Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.  Watch it and then come back to finish the last part of this note.

My exasperation with this issue peaks when I see how quickly and easily my daughter learns her body parts.  She absorbs the names with the same ease as learning colors.  Now, let me preface this- as smitten as we are with her and as brilliant as we perceive her to be, straight up- she’s not some unusually talented, Doogie Houser, virtuoso.  She’s just an average (amazing to us) 3 year old.  So I know that every other 3 year old would soak things up just as rapidly as she does.  

And in my dream world, when our 3 year olds are empowered with this understanding, they will grow up knowing their bodies well.  This will allow them to educate their own kids with ease.  This will foster awe and care for their bodies, and perhaps concepts like exercise, eating well, sleep hygiene, healthy sexuality, preventive care and daily self care, will be natural extensions of comprehensive understanding of their bodies..  And this, ladies and gentlemen, could revolutionize our culture.  In a few generations, we could have a population of folks that have a deeper understanding of how bodies work.  They would thus take care of them better than we, collectively, do now.  They would not have the angst my adult patients have.  They would be less awkward about sex, STI prevention, contraception, periods and body image.  

Wouldn’t that be amazing?  Is it just me? It seems like such a profound shift that could grow from such a simple approach.  So, there you have it.  Why a gynecologist and nurse tell their 3 year old about her body parts, using their anatomical names.

What do you tell your kids?

What were you told about your genitalia?

What funny misinformation did you hear about sex?  

I’d love to hear.  Share here or email me at hello at kristiangevinemd dot com