My mother and I were nervous at the health center.  She didn’t want to become a grandmother, all because the night I lost my virginity the condom broke. 

That night was the first time for my boyfriend and I. Everything happened spur of the moment. One minute we were making out and the next we were having sex. We hadn’t prepared to have sex, but he had a condom on him. He had never used one before.

 

I didn’t even realize the condom broke until he woke me up later to tell me. We both sat together and cried about the situation. (I didn’t know about emergency contraception then.)

Soon after, I told my mother and she made an appointment at a drop-in health center. The woman in charge of pregnancy tests at the center welcomed us into her office. She asked me how many times I’d had sex and what the first day of my last period was. She also asked me if I needed condoms and spermicide. 

I was nervous to answer the questions, but I did anyway, because I knew it was important. Then she told me that the pregnancy test came out negative. Yes! I was happy. 

Little did I know, I would be nervous for the next week, because she also mentioned “gynecologist.” Since I was already having intercourse and I was almost 18, I would need to start going to one. She said she could arrange an appointment with one close to my house. My mom commented on getting me birth control at the gynecologist, too.  

Before I had even had sex, my mother had brought up the subject of birth control. But I took it too lightly. After that day at the center, my mother pretty much decided that I should be on “the shot” (Depo-Provera). 

She knew I could not keep up with taking birth control pills. I agreed. She made our discussion on birth control short and to the point. She seemed very disappointed in me, and she said that I had to take precautions the next time.

I had never been to a gynecologist before. The woman at the health center called the gynecologist’s office for me and made an appointment. She gave me a card with the time and date of my first appointment. For the next week, I dreaded Monday, August 6, 2:15 p.m. 

I was scared, but I did some online research about the gynecologist to see what I would go through. I felt a little calmer knowing what I was getting into, but I really dreaded having to go.

August 6th was here. On the way, my mother kept insisting I get the shot. I didn’t say much because I didn’t know what I was getting into. I had no idea what the shot really was. I knew nothing about Depo-Provera.

When we arrived, I walked into the waiting room, signed in at the desk, and sat down. My name was called; I was nervous. A woman handed me some forms to fill out. I was told to go to the waiting room until I was called again. Then another woman (this one the gynecologist) took me into her office to ask a few questions, like, “When was the first day of your last period?” and “Are you currently sexually active?”

She asked questions about my sex partner. She asked if it was his first time, and if I knew if he had any sexually transmitted diseases (STDs). I told her that he had never been tested for STDs, but that I was also his first partner for pretty much everything we did. 

We discussed my family’s health, and she took my blood pressure. She asked me my main purpose for being there. I told her I wanted to be examined and needed birth control, preferably the shot.

The gynecologist’s assistant gave me a hemoglobin test, by pricking my finger, and took a urine sample. I was to go back to the waiting room until I was called once again.

A minute later, my name was called. The gynecologist escorted me into a room. She knew it was my first time and told me she would try to make me comfortable. She gave me a sheet and a pink coat that opened in the front. She told me how to put the coat on, like a vest but backwards. She told me to sit on the table and wrap the sheet over my legs.

About three minutes later, the gynecologist walked in. I was sitting naked on the bed, with the pink coat on and sheet rested over my legs. She told me to rest my heels in the stirrups, spread my legs as wide as possible, and rest my rear on the edge of the bed. 

She explained the procedure. She told me how she would do a Pap smear (to test for cervical cancer), by taking a Q-Tip and getting a sample from my cervix. She told me she would feel my anus and feel around the inside of my vulva and vagina, to try and identify any abnormalities, which might indicate an infection. 

While she was examining me, it felt uncomfortable. She told me to “give a holler” if she was causing pain. She was not. She told little jokes, which helped me feel less tense. She examined my breasts. Then she told me to put my clothes on while she left the room. 

After she came back, she told me about Depo-Provera. I learned that it is a shot of the hormone progestin that you get in your arm or buttock every 12 weeks to prevent pregnancy. 

She asked me to read a sheet about the side effects. She gave me about 10 minutes to read it. She handed me another sheet to sign, saying I agreed to take Depo-Provera and I understood the side effects.

She injected the shot in my right buttock. She asked if I had any questions and I did not have any. She told me it was over and gave me the “see, it wasn’t all that bad” talk. She said that it’s not so bad to go to the gynecologist and that women do it all the time. 

“It’s a part of life, and it’s worth it, too. It’s better to be safe than sorry,” she said.

Lastly, she gave me a card with the date and time—October 13, 3:30 p.m.—for my next Depo-Provera injection and told me to wait for ten minutes to make sure I was alright from the shot before I left. 

Today I feel much better, now that I am protecting myself. I feel safer when I have intercourse. My partner asks me before intercourse if I’m still on the shot, and we protect against STDs by using condoms.

As nervous as I was, I realize that it really is not a big deal to see the gynecologist. Every woman goes through it and, most of all, it is for a good cause—preventing cervical cancer, checking for infections.

I learned that I am healthy, plus I don’t fool around without birth control and protection. Condoms can break, and they should not be the only source of protection. By going to the gyno, you learn to be more careful.

Maggie, 18, is a Sex, Etc. Contributor from South Carolina.

Editors’ Note: To find a health clinic, check the yellow pages under "clinics" or "family planning," look online here, or call Planned Parenthood at 1-800-230-PLAN (7526).