Strolling in the Tundra

There are some saving graces about Winnipeg, but you'll have to dig for them under feet of snow. (Literally! Have you ever tried navigating a stroller through snowdrifts over sheets of ice?) One such saving grace is the Wolseley Family Centre, which provides a supportive place for frazzled mothers and their 0-6-year-olds. There's a playroom with a daily snack hour for kids, free cooking classes, a baby music class, and more. Unfortunately, the centre, ahem, center, is also home to some of the more troubled elements of Winnipeg society. A friend of mine had a homeless man remark on the physical beauty of her baby and indicate his desire to touch her, and today an unhinged woman on the couch was ranting about how her partner needed to have sex with a different woman every day.

Another Reason Not To Have A Baby In Winnipeg

I'm so glad I got most of my prenatal care in New York. In Winnipeg, you are not usually granted the privilege of finding out the gender of your fetus. (One hospital stopped the practice after the ultrasound technician mistakenly told a couple that they were having a boy - and they sued because they would have aborted it. Another hospital refuses, citing "religious reasons.")

Something else to be deprived of!

Something you'll never find in Winnipeg...

As I wrote before, it's almost impossible for a pregnant woman to get an ultrasound in Winnipeg. There are no doctor's offices that do the procedure, and there's only one hospital that will do it. Also, ultrasounds are usually rationed to one per woman per pregnancy. Gotta love that Canadian healthcare system!

(By the way, this picture was taken in NYC, obviously.)

Baby Nurses in Winnipeg

Winnipeg is a very family-focused town. Not many people use baby nurses, but the service does exist; you just have to look for it. And search I did. At first, I made the mistake of hiring a "post-partum doula service" - soon, we had unkempt, earth-motherish types bringing over fenugreek pills and books about post-partum depression, and offering me a pedicure so I could "feel like a woman again." Then, we thankfully found a couple services which were more along the lines of what we were looking for. Last night, I asked an aide from one of these services if she had any horror stories of being on the job in Winnipeg.

She told me that one night, she was called to an apartment on Corydon Avenue (for some reason, this street is known as the "Little Italy" of Winnipeg, although there aren't many Italian businesses on it, and the gelato is overrated and artificially colored). The client, a young woman in a long black skirt, let her in, showed her the baby's room, and then left for the night.

Six hours turned to seven, and then eight. The client never came back. The aide was stuck with the baby, and she had to leave. She looked around for a phone and couldn't find one. She decided there was no choice but to knock on the neighbor's door. A sleepy-headed woman poked her head out.

"Can I please use your phone to call my office?" she pleaded. The woman asked her to wait. The aide waited patiently outside for five minutes while the woman got herself together. Finally she was let in to call the office. The office manager said that Child Protective Services would be called if the client did not show up within the hour.

Somehow, the client's parents were located and contacted. Within thirty minutes, the client returned to pay the aide. She had a lot of cash on her, because she was a hooker who had fallen asleep in her john's room.

At least she had the presence of mind to call a baby nurse!

Giving Birth, Winnipeg-Style

Two weeks ago, my son was born at the same hospital where the infamous Winnipeg Toilet Baby was treated: Health Sciences Centre (a.k.a. Hell Sciences). I won't go into the gory details of the extremely complicated labor and delivery (suffice it to say that the whole freaking hospital employs ONE, count him, ONE anesthesiologist), but I will mention an interesting detail. According to one of the nurses, one can often smell weed in the labor and delivery areas ("but not in the nice private rooms").