Canada Moms Blog

Marketers and Moms: Talk with us, not just about us

Finally, a Canadian conference about Marketing to Moms Online! I've been wondering for years when this was going to happen, and it's such a relief that there's going to be a forum where online Moms can really talk to Marketers and have an honest, open conversation. We're bursting with things to say, things about who we are and what we do and how we can truly work together for mutual benefit. There's so much misconception about "moms online" and what we do and how we behave and think.  It's wonderful to take advantage of the power in having a direct conversation, rather than having marketers just talk to other marketers about us instead of actually talking with us, or having some man present a study about "Meeting the 21st Century Mom".

Except, that direct conversation? is exactly what this conference is not doing.

I saw the link to the OpenDialogue Marketing to Digital Moms conference  from MomCentral Canada on Twitter. And when I saw the link, I was initially delighted. Thinking it was equivalent to Mom 2.0 or BlogHer Business - places where marketers who so covet the Mom market, who are dying to figure out ways to get under our skin, can actually talk to us - I thought, what a great opportunity.  A chance to talk to Canadian marketers!  And to tell them that we don't just surf. We write. We talk to each other. We find our niches. We rally around causes. We speak out against injustice, against misconception, against cruelty, against fools. We brand ourselves, and when we don't have big business budgets for branding, we figure it out for ourselves, or we turn to each other and give each other small business opportunities. We get together and start things, fun things, cool things, things that mock those that mock us (because, trust me, we're mocked a lot) and turn their arguments in to nothing more than bitter ash.

There is no Maternal health without Reproductive health.

It's times like these when I am truly, cringingly, embarrassed by our government.

It's no secret that I'm a pinko commie liberal. I believe in safety nets and socialized health care and helping those who are down on their luck. I believe in women's shelters and drug rehabs and needle exchange programs. I even listen religiously to the CBC. So it's not hard to find something for me to be angry about in most of our Conservative government's policies. However, this one goes beyond the pale, and not just for me. In their recently announced G8 initiative to promote maternal health in the developing world, the Tories have decided that birth control is not part of maternal health.

Baby brain: myth or misinterpreted?

In today's "why did anyone even manage to get funded for this study" news, it turns out that baby brain is a myth. You know, that whole thing whereby you get pregnant and you all of a sudden forget how to spell your name? That thing we all lived through? Yes. Myth. Aren't you glad someone told you that? Wow. Sure cleared up all that mental chow mein I've been regurgitating for well over a year now.

Except, their definition of baby brain was apparently different than mine. Someone out there apparently believed that the act of getting pregnant or having a baby actually made women stupider, rather than just forgetful.

This was worth a study?

Have you been used as a practice vagina? Would you even know?

I have a story. Let me tell you it.

A few years ago, my husband and I were having trouble conceiving a child. In Ontario, they have people who can help you with these sorts of things so after the requisite time, we toddled off to the fertility doctor in order to get checked out. For those of you who've never been down this route, first of all thank your lucky stars, but secondly, realize the tests they do are of the necessary but rather highly embarrassing kind: transvaginal ultrasound.. on the first day of your period. Sperm analysis. Invasive questions. It's the kind of thing these doctors see every day, so they are thankfully very professional about it. I, however, do not talk about these things every day, nor do I make a habit of showing up for vaginal exams just for fun. As a result, I was less comfortable than my doctor or the medical team that I worked with. It's embarrassing. It's your privates, you know. They're meant to be.. private. But this all had a purpose: To find out if our bodies were working properly, or not. So I gave myself a little "man up, nancy" talk and bravely forged ahead.

During one of these exams, my doctor discovered something odd. Something that would take a surgical investigation to resolve fully. The surgery was scheduled, and on the designated day I reported to the hospital, anxious and nervous. I knew this was a simple, routine procedure, but I was still feeling skittish. I would be going under a general anesthetic, and that fact combined with the private-parts nature of the work being done left me feeling vulnerable. My doctor, a kind, intelligent man about my age, spoke to me in reassuring, professional tones. He introduced everyone in the room and described their roles and the procedure. And when it was time to go under, seeing I was nervous, he stood by my side until they gave me the good stuff and my eyes slowly closed. When I woke up hours later in recovery, I went home feeling groggy, but relieved to find out the issue was, as expected, nothing. And ever since that day, I have been grateful to my doctor for being so professional, so compassionate; thankful that he was taking such care to make me feel reassured. 

That was a while ago. I've since had a beautiful baby girl and I have long put the thought of that day behind me. Until today. When I read in the Globe and Mail that during gynecological surgery, it's routine for a medical student to practice giving pelvic exams to women while they're anesthetized, without seeking prior permission from the patient to do so.

I read the article, and I froze.

I realized in an instant that it is entirely possible that after my procedure was completed, when there was no need for me to still be receiving potentially dangerous anesthesia, when there was no reason for anyone to be putting a speculum within 15 feet of me, my unconscious body was then very possibly used as a lab rat for a med student - possibly students-  to "practice" pelvic exams on me. Without my permission.

What?

What???

I feel nauseous. I feel horrified. I feel violated. I feel frightened.

From the article:

The long-standing argument in favour of allowing these exams to be done on surgery patients is that it provides a unique opportunity for students to practice the delicate, invasive examination without causing the woman pain or embarrassment.

There is also an assumption that women would never accept pelvic exams by students while conscious so sneaking them in, while not ideal, is acceptable.

Let's let that sink in for a moment. So rather than cause me "pain or embarrassment", or give me the right to say "no", they instead simply can decide to do a painful and embarrassing (their words) examination on my unconscious body without my permission.

Can you believe this? Us ladies, us delicate dewdrops, (most of whom have had more pelvic exams than we can remember, for god's sake) are too fragile to be asked permission to let a student see our lady gardens! But don't worry about it, says the medical community, we'll get around it: WE JUST WON'T TELL THEM. Knock 'em out and stirrup 'em up, let's let the whole room see what's in there!

Think about this. Even dead bodies have to give their permission to let med students examine and practice on them. We are being given less respect than dead bodies. 

But here's the kicker.

The concern among the medical community isn't whether it's ethical to carry out invasive examinations for 'practice' purposes without the patient first granting consent. The concern is how tough it would be to actually get that permission in the first place.

Talk about missing the point.

So, medical community, I have a few questions for you.

1. Does this practice actually occur? Do you allow medical students to carry out pelvic examinations on unconscious patients without informing them first?

2. If this practice does take place, are these examinations that are necessary as a routine course of the procedure being carried out and are simply being done by the student, or are these examinations that are being done outside of the required procedures (and thus exposing the patient to extra anasthesia and extra risk from having an extra invasive procedure)?

3. If this does take place.. have you never stopped to think whether or not it *should* happen without your patients' permission?

4....

And this is the most important point...

4. If this did take place in my OR that day, had I been asked to give consent, it's more than likely that I would have given it. But because you didn't ask, you took away my own power over my own body. You treated me like an object. You put your needs over my right to have sovereignty over my self.  If you'd drugged me and let someone probe my vagina outside of an OR, it would have been called rape. And it's unforgivable.

This is an original post to Canada Moms Blog. Shannon blogs at ThreeSeven.ca and saves the world at ecochick.ca.

If you're outraged about this, and want to send a message to the Canadian medical establishment and Canadian legislators that this is NOT okay, please consider lending your signature to this open letter/petition. Thank you!

Dear America: The Poutine has landed

Dear America: sure, you have big-assed portion sizes and an overabundance of processed foods.  Be aware, there is a far better, All-Canadian way to clog your arteries and send yourself straight in for a quadruple bypass. A delicious, gooey, cravetastic quadruple bypass.

It's called Poutine. Delicious poutine. And it's coming to a fine American dining establishment near you.

The Shopping Season

It's the day after Christmas, and a whole new festive season has begun: The Shopping Season.

After the frenzied preparations leading to The Big Day, after we all went to malls and shops and craft fairs and markets and spent money and money and packed and schlepped and wrapped and cooked and served and ate and drank and shopped some more, with the tenor getting more and more hysterical leading up to 5 pm on the 24th of December when, if you're not done by then you're too late! Shop soon! SHOP NOW! we stop. We rest. We don't go to stores anymore, at least not that day. We spend time with our family and friends, because what else is there to do? Nothing's open! But don't worry, because all Christmas is is just a day of rest until the REAL big day:

Boxing day.

The Mailman hates me.

Or mail lady. Mailperson? Whatever. That poor schmuck has a massive hate on for me.  They must. Have to. Because as a maternity-leave home-bound mom to an almost 5 month old, I spend a lot of time shopping. Online. And oh, do their aching backs delivering all my packages know it.

The Joy of a baby's love

It's taken me a while to write about this. Partly because we've been on the road, partly because, dude, I have a newborn, brushing my teeth is an accomplishment. But mostly because I needed to sort through how I really felt about this. Because this? Got under my skin.

The "this" I refer to is an article in the National Post by Christine Rosen, yet another article about how hip parent bloggers are a harbinger of the end of days. (you know, if I were to paraphrase.)  The article basically says this parent is wrong and that parent, well that parent is REALLY wrong, and these parents will eventually see the horrible error of their ways, et cetera. And blah, and yawn, and can't you think of anything more original to write about because seriously, as a blogger, I've heard it all before.

The Magical Diaper Bag

A couple of months ago, we were packing to take our (then) one month old daughter on her first plane ride, a trip to visit her grandparents in Nova Scotia. During this packing process, I was truly amazed at the amount of paraphernalia that we had to take for one 8 pound person. Vast piles of onesies, blankets, diapers, bottles. More. Plenty. When I whined to a friend of mine about the packing nightmare, she said, hah! You new moms. I just throw diapers and wipes in my purse! 

Really?

There are people who can do that?

Does she have a magical child, a mythical child that simply smiles and eats and poops normal poops and doesn't do anything else?

Because that is not my child. My child requires an entire emergency kit for any possible purpose.  The diaper bag is the tickle trunk, the mom nirvana. I am prepared for any situation. At all.

Have you had that baby yet?

The phone calls have started.

The emails. The twitter messages, the facebook messages, the surreptitious "So... how you doing?" inquiries where people really want to ask "have you had that baby yet!?" but don't want to look like TOTAL jerks, so they just pretend they weren't calling about the baby at all! They're just calling. Innocently and coincidentally.  Every day. 

My OB is starting to make a plan to induce... in two weeks. Just in case. This is because he's on vacation next week so he won't be able to do the planning when he normally would in the usual long procession of pregnancy appointments. But still.  He's planning it all now.  Two weeks before it would even happen.

I'm getting messages saying "4 days left!" referring to my "due date", presumably. Which I like to refer to as "that meaningless date that gives you a target range and not much else". But apparently some like to believe the due date is when you actually give birth. Who knew?

My mother is throwing out "good dates to have a baby" in emails, as if I have any control over the process.

Everyone's starting to chomp at the bit, in other words.

But me? Am I anxious, panicking, nervous, wondering?  Am I inspecting every twinge hoping I'm in labour?