My first time
Before my husband and I got married, I really wanted to go to the mikvah. I had no idea what t"h actually entailed, nor did I think it was something that I would observe, but I felt very strongly I wanted to go to the mikvah before we got married. I didn't. There was too much to do, I didn't know how to tell our non-observant families that I needed time to go to the mikvah, oh, and could someone find a mikvah for me. I regretted that deeply.
I still don't remember how the topic actually came up, but I started becoming more and more interested in t"h, and like the new kid standing on the sidelines of the dodgeball game, afraid to ask to be let into the game, I wanted to play, but was scared. I talked to everybody about it: my friends, my rebbetzin (we'll call her rebA), a rebbetzin (rebB) with whom my husband and I are friends. RebB loaned me Rivka Slonim's book, Total Immersion. I greedily consumed it, but it didn't speak to me. There were wonderful stories there; some inspiring, some moving, some astonishing, but none of them touched me. Nothing addressed issues of being naked in front of another person. In every story each woman talked about her private time, her private conversation with G-d, her personal space, being all alone - but I kept thinking, "YOU'RE NOT ALONE! There's a mikvah lady there! Talk to me about the mikvah lady staring at your naked cellulite!"
Then came the film Tehora (Purity). It caused a lot of angst in the Orthodox world, and also inspired a lot of conversation. Even though I still wasn't yet observing t"h, I found myself defending the practice to women who insisted that this practice was yet another way of subjugating women and saying that women are unclean. I don't think I won any of those arguments, even when I got the whole of idea of tamei (ritually impure) and tahor (ritually pure) clear to myself. But it did reinforce my desire to start practicing t"h. But I just couldn't get over this apprehension over being naked in front of someone else, whose job it is to stare at my body. Back in highschool, I hatedhatedhated gym class because the girls' shower room was a bunch of stalls with no curtains. No way was I going to shower naked in front of a whole bunch of other girls. So how was I going to be naked in front of a woman who is supposed to be looking at me?
Finally, rebB and I were talking one day, and she asked how things were going with my t"h quest. From the look on my face, she pulled me away from the other people around. I explained to her my naked apprehensions, and bless her, she proceeded to explain to me in detail what she does when she is the mikvah attendant. How she checks for hair, looks at nails and feet, and most importantly, holds the towel up in front of her, and doesn't drop it until the woman says she's ready. Relief! It was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders! I could totally deal with someone looking at me after I was already in the water. The water distorts, so they wouldn't have a real view of me.
My husband and I discussed this some more, and we felt strongly that since we were about to start trying to get pregnant, we wanted to ensure that we did everything according to G-d's will. So my next cycle, we started. After my period, I counted my clean days, realized my mikvah day would be motsei Shabbos (after Shabbos was over) and had no idea what to do (understand, I was counting every day because I wasn't sure I was understanding the whole erev plus the day, versus just the day). So on Shabbat, I asked my rebbetzin about counting and we figured out that I was right, and that night I should immerse. I was disappointed, because at that point, I already knew that the mikvah appointments need 24 hours' notice, and I am SO not one to cause trouble with rules, no matter how hard you try to convince me that this is a higher priority. My rebbetzin does not share the same hangup, thankfully. She called the attendant immediately after Havdalah, who said "of course I'll make room for her." The attendant happily gave me plenty of time to prepare, they both made sure I knew what to do and where to go, and off I went.
After all that buildup, it was not special.