In Winnipeg at Christmas there’s lots and lots of snow,
Very clean, and crisp and hard
And glittering like a Christmas card
Everywhere you go;
Snow upon the housetops, snow along the street,
And Queen Victoria in her chair
Has snow upon her snowy hair
And snow upon her feet.

In Winnipeg at Christmas they line the streets with trees-
Christmas trees lit up at night
With little balls of coloured light
As pretty as you please.
The people hurry past you in furry boots and wraps;
The sleighs are like a picture book,
And all the policemen look
Like Teddy Bears in caps.

And oh! The smiling ladies and jolly girls and boys;
And oh! The parties and the fun
With lovely things for everyone-
Books and sweets and toys.
So, if someday at Christmas you don’t know where to go,
Just pack your bags I beg,
And start at once for Winnipeg;
You’ll like it there I know.

Source: River Gate Inn via Wayback Machine

For an interesting look at the poem and its author, check out this audio clip from CBC Radio.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

When I was growing up, my family’s church had potlucks a couple times a year. This is probably where my logic-defying love of jellied salads (the normal, desserty ones, not the ones that incorporate actual salad ingredients like lettuce and peas) was developed, but I digress. I’d sort of forgotten that the church put on “Fall Supper”, too. So when, during my first autumn in Manitoba, I started seeing signs for fall suppers around town, I was reminded of how much I loved these meals, and became very keen to go to one — or two, or three

The Fall Supper is a widespread and beloved prairie tradition. According to Travel Manitoba,

“Autumn has been a season of super suppers for more than a century in rural and small-town Manitoba. The harvest-time meals were originally called “fowl suppers” because the main course was typically duck or goose. … Local residents donate the food and labor for these seasonal fundraising events. Proceeds benefit community and social service organizations, veterans groups, churches, and other nonprofit causes.”

Another Travel Manitoba article describes how each supper has its own idiosyncracies:

“Each supper has its own style. At St. Pierre-Jolys, half-a-dozen local school band students open the dinner from a balcony overlooking the hall, trumpeting through an awkward but earnest rendition of O Canada. St. Francois Xavier sets up bake sale tables of dainties, cookies and pastries. At Oakville, dinner tickets are purchased through the driver’s side window from two fellows in an idling minivan parked beside the entrance; their cash box a gallon-size ice cream bucket. At La Salle, children carry platters of veggies and dip outside to keep folks waiting in line from getting peckish while they cool their heels for the next sitting.”

Doesn’t this sound wonderful? And I just love this blog post about typical fall suppers (albeit Saskatchewan ones) from the author’s childhood, and the pleasure of stumbling upon one as a hungry, tired adult:

“It was Christmas dinner without being worried if Uncle Al would drink too much or crazy old Aunt Margaret would call a curse down on the Catholics during grace. The gaiety of the kids tables now translated to adults free of their social norm and in an atmosphere where a guy could openly flirt with the woman next door because she just made such great scalloped potatoes and a lonely telephone operator could draw an appreciative smile from a gentleman farmer with her flaky pastry.”

Love it! Anyway, this is a post I’ve been wanting to write for a very long time, because for whatever reason, I didn’t manage to get to a Manitoba fall supper until this past weekend. My in-laws took the whole family to the Ile Des Chenes Fall Supper instead of having us over for our usual Sunday dinner.

My plate at my first Fall Supper - delish!

The supper was held at the brand-new IDC Community Centre and when we arrived at 5pm, the place was packed – I’d guess there were at least 500 people there. Once we had our tickets (blue for dinner, red for dessert) we got in line, mouths watering. We were handed plates and napkins by kids from Seine River Minor Baseball (the supper was in support of them) and piled them high with buns, coleslaw, Caesar salad, ultra-tasty pickles, and cubed cheese. Once we got to the service stations, we were offered turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, veggies, sweet and sour meatballs, gravy, and the meal’s proclaimed winner, homemade perogies, slathered in butter and onions. They were so good; imagine sour cream and onion chips, only in perogy form… awesome!

The funniest part of the evening was when my sister-in-law, who is also not from Manitoba, exclaimed with surprise, “This food is really good!” Everyone just looked at her like, “Duh! It’s a fall supper!” Styrofoam plates can be deceiving

After we’d all but licked our plates clean, we headed over to the dessert table, where we each selected a treat from an ever-changing spread of homemade cakes, pies, dainties (hah, I wanted to write “squares” just there, but when in Manitoba…), cookies, and cupcakes. We polished those off, chased them with Caisse-logo emblazoned cups of coffee, then cleared out to make room for awaiting hungry diners.

My first fall supper experience was a bit hurried – between knowing there were lots of folks waiting in line, and chasing our energetic  16-month around the room, it wasn’t exactly relaxing. I think next time we’d try to go a little earlier and maybe bring a booster seat along. But I loved the whole event – the food, the atmosphere, the feeling of all ages spending time together, and all the friendly faces.  I can’t wait to go again sometime.

Here’s a giant list of all the fall suppers held in Manitoba this year. There’s still time to check one (or more) out!

Did you go to any fall suppers this year? Have fond or funny memories of suppers past? Which town has the very best one? I’d love to hear all your fall supper stories!

I have no idea whether these run on TV or just online, but I do kind of like them.That’s probably because these “Winnipeg things” are all still new and novel to me. Not such a bad way to see the world, though… right?

The Freep and Hot 103 are running a contest right now by the same name, collecting entries on what the best summertime Winnipeg or Manitoba thing is. I read through a bunch of them and my initial reaction was that none of them are really long enough to paint a particularly persuasive picture. And so many of them could be summertime activities anywhere in Canada. But the more I read of them, the more I started to get it.

I was stoked to learn that you can go canoeing — inside the city! I discovered there’s a famous tree at Kildonan Park, that I’m thinking I’ll have to check out in the next few weeks. The entry about Manitoba’s “big things” brought a smile to my face, as I remembered how much my late grandmother loved these things, too. An ode to dusk is short and sweet and reminded me of my own childhood.

But for what it’s worth, my money’s on Jim Anderson’s poem!

Okay, a couple weeks ago I looked at wedding socials, those ubiquitous Manitoba nuptial fundraisers.  Today I want to talk about another strange wedding-related tradition that is so common here in the Keystone province: presentation.

Before I moved to Manitoba, I received an invitation to a wedding that would be held in Winnipeg. The invitation was beautiful  - on heavy, creamy cardstock with engraved lettering, wrapped in a silky ribbon – all the stuff girls care about. Beneath the usual day-time-place details was a single word on its own line: presentation.  I had no idea what this meant! I asked around, to see if anyone had ever encountered such wording on a wedding invitation. One friend thought maybe it was something to do with a dress code. Another thought maybe it meant there would be a formal receiving line. And then I called my mum, and she laughed and said, “It means they want money, not gifts”.

I’m not going to say I was flabbergasted (this was before I knew about socials, after all!)  but I was quite taken aback. What had the world come to? First, it was bad enough that people started printing their registry information on their invitations. Now they were just asking for money flat-out?

Well, it turns out that this is a totally common practice in Manitoba. In fact, there is a whole spectrum of ways to stipulate that you don’t want gifts, you want cold hard cash – and you can do it right on the invitation. For instance, you might see one of the following tucked away neatly, in a wedding-y font, at the bottom of the invite [snarky comments mine]:

• Presentation
• Presentation Optional [So nice of you to give me a choice!]
• Presentation Preferred [Good to know.]
• Presentation Accepted [Phew!]
• Presentation Only [I KNOW!!!]

You’ve got to admit, if it weren’t so totally against even the laxest of etiquette guidelines, it would be totally genius. I mean, one little word cuts through all the awkwardness and tiptoeing around the subject. Guests are of course, not obliged to bring gifts to a wedding, but almost all do. And often they like to give something the couple needs or wants, which sometimes is money.  It’s crude for a couple to say “we prefer cash”, but “presentation” elegantly does the dirty work for them. But that’s just it… it’s awfully mucky in that territory.

Back in the olden days, if you wanted to know what the couple wanted, you’d ask a family member or close friend for a suggestion. When registries (still considered distasteful by some) came along, same thing – you’d ask someone close to the couple where they were registered. I don’t know why this policy doesn’t still work when a couple wants cash, as many who are joining established households or saving for a major purchase such as house, understandably do. I guess people have decided that any oral discussion of money is taboo… but putting it in writing isn’t. I don’t know.

I find the whole idea of presentation strange, as the word itself indicates that you would be physically presenting the money to the couple, when as far as I know, most people just drop their card stuffed with cash into a basket or box at the gift table. I’m sure that’s how the term originated, but from what I understand, it’s not done anymore, except in certain cultures where cash gifts are traditional. Speaking of gift tables – I went to a local wedding, for which the invitation specified presentation preferred, but I brought a gift. (I realize that bringing a gift to the reception is considered bad form too – hey, I’m not perfect!)  When I gave it to the people manning the table with the card basket and guest book, their body language made it clear that a physical gift was very inconvenient and that they hadn’t really planned a spot to put gifts! Serves me right, I suppose.

I’m not the only person who is intrigued by this whole concept. As I was doing a little research for this post, I came across a recent article from the Journal of Folklore Research, by two researchers at the U of W, Pauline Greenhill and Kendra Magnusson.  “Your Presence at Our Wedding Is Present Enough”: Lies, Coding, Maintaining Personal Face, and the Cash Gift” goes into great detail on presentation practices of Winnipeggers. (You can access it online through EbscoHost on WPL’s electronic resources, if you’re a nerd like me and just have to read the whole thing!) The abstract of the paper reads:

“In the city of Winnipeg, Manitoba, the word presentation-signifying a cash wedding gift as an alternative to material objects, and usually stated on the lower right-hand corner of the wedding invitation-has become recognized, if somewhat controversial, across class, linguistic, and ethnocultural boundaries. Both implicit and complicit coding methods overshadow or disguise the transactional nature of the cash gift in order to make the request more polite. Presentation is echoed in such forms as rhymed cash requests and themed receptacles, which likewise disrupt the economistic undertones of the cash gift while maintaining the personal face of the wedded couple and their guests. We argue that such customs offer layered codes that not only reinforce the taboo on requesting cash, but critique capitalism’s invasion of this rite of passage and its associated events”

The term “presentation wedding” is used throughout, and that just makes me shudder. As if the defining characteristic of the wedding is the type of gifts the couple is demanding they receive.   I personally have never heard someone describe a wedding as such, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I do.

Now, even if you do want to give the couple money — because after all, it is a totally appropriate and welcome gift — how much do you give? I noticed a plea from Ace Burpee on Twitter a few months ago, asking what the going rate is for presentation these days. Several people responded and all used a formula based in part on what they were “getting” at the reception. One person based her amount on the price of the meal, plus an extra $10-20. Another said if it was open bar and dinner, $150 a head. Yet another said “pay for your plate then $100 or more”. Again, I find the idea that you somehow must pay your way at the reception, which is essentially a gift from the wedding’s hosts to their guests, extremely unsavoury. Ick… another horrible aspect of presentation.

I’ve only experienced the tip of the presentation iceberg, I’m sure. To reiterate, I’m not against giving money as a gift at weddings, nor am I against couples discreetly letting it be known that if anyone is interested in what they want or need, it’s money. Most guests are hoping not to give the clichéd 4th toaster, and are glad for a little guidance coming from the right source. But for goodness’ sake, that source should not be the couple themselves, and it definitely should not the invitation.

What do you think? Is “presentation” evil or genius? Or both?

I sort of avoided writing this post for a while, since it’s bound to ruffle some feathers. I’ve touched on it before, but not in any real depth. So here it is: Winnipeg (well, Manitoba) has some weird wedding traditions. And by weird I mean, sort of unsavoury (the “weird” was more for alliterative purposes). Where should I begin? At the beginning.

The Social

The wedding  social is one of things that a lot of Manitobans are fiercely proud of, and yet is completely foreign to most people outside of the province. People throw socials as fundraisers for all sorts of reasons, but a fundraiser for a wedding? I had seriously never heard of this until I moved here. Apparently, they do have versions of this sort of event elsewhere in the country – I think they’re sometimes called cabarets in Saskatchewan, and Buck n’ Does or Stag n’ Does in some parts of Ontario – but here, it’s all socials, all the time.

The concept is this: you need money to pay for your wedding. So you throw a party, and sell tickets to everyone you know. You rent a hall and book a DJ. Then at the party, you sell alcoholic beverages and tickets to “rainbow auctions” (formerly known as Chinese auctions, but really just raffles) for prizes donated by family and friends.  To your guests, you provide snacks like Old Dutch ripple chips and pretzels throughout the evening. Towards the end, you bring out the “social food”: rye bread, kolbassa and rolled up sandwich meats, and cubed cheese, along with jars of mayo and mustard so you can make a sandwich.  If done well, you can walk away with thousands of dollars of profits and voila! Your wedding is paid for! After all, social-goers pay $10 or $12 for their ticket, spend another $20 (or more) on booze, and another $10 or $20 (or more) on auction tickets. The particularly rowdy ones will easily spend $100 — a tipsy social-goer and his money are soon parted.

Now, apparently this tradition has well-meaning roots. From what I understand, a couple’s wedding party would organize and host this event for the bride and groom, instead of holding multiple showers, stags, stagettes, etc. Since it was likely the couple was young, and still living at home, the social (“A social evening in honour of… “) and its proceeds were a gift, a trousseau of sorts, to the couple from the wedding party and community. This scenario is not particularly offensive to me. However, this tradition has morphed into an additional wedding event, and most often hosted by the couple themselves, for the ostensible purpose of paying for their wedding.  I know someone who remembers precisely the first time she was asked to buy tickets to a couple’s own social – it was that surprising and unusual – but now, it’s pretty commonplace.

When I was getting married, I had quite a few people ask me, “So when’s your social?” Notice, they weren’t asking “Are you having a social?” And it was pretty interesting to hear their responses when I said we weren’t having one (I learned quickly to stay politically neutral on this topic – saying that we just wanted to keep things simple). Some people asked me why not, and it was like they were genuinely distressed that we weren’t having one. “But you can make so much money!!” Others were almost relieved on my behalf, and said that it would save a lot of time and energy.

In a previous post, I wrote that “I still feel a little conflicted about the concept of fundraising for weddings, even though it seems like it’s basically the same pool of money (and crushing sense of guilt and obligation) that passes from one couple to the next.” It’s like an extremely well-oiled system of microloans, because the Manitoba Code of Professional Socials Conduct dictates that if someone comes to your social, you must attend theirs. But the guilt doesn’t stop there.  To get out of buying tickets for a social – any social, it would seem – you had better have a really good excuse!

There are varying degrees of commitment and support when it comes to socials. At one end, you buy a ticket to assuage your guilty feelings, but have no intention of actually going (and everyone knows this is exactly what you’re doing. You’re not fooling anyone).  Or maybe you donate a prize to be raffled off. A typical level of involvement would be to buy a ticket and attend, and while there, drink and try to win the “lottery ticket tree” (which now apparently has changed to “lottery tickets encased in a picture frame”). On the extreme end (if you are in the wedding party or are a family member) you do all of the above, plus sell tickets to anyone you’ve ever known plus anyone those people have ever known, help set up the social, help take down the social, and probably clean some puke up. Now that’s love.

So what? If everyone is a willing participant, what’s the big deal? Well, some would argue that the whole thing is akin to saying “Please come to my house for dinner. But I can’t afford to make the meal, so please bring me a cheque to help me cover my costs.” I have also heard of plenty of couples who did not need the money but had socials anyway, because it is part and parcel of the whole sequence of wedding traditions in these parts. So what if the proceeds are actually going to pay for your honeymoon? Or basement renovation. Or 52″ flat screen TV. Everyone does it. (Well, not everyone, but a lot of people.) Does that make it right?

Here is a list of justifications people give when defending socials. (The fact that they have them ready begs the question of whether they know socials are sort of controversial to begin with.)

• Having a social will let us have the wedding of our dreams that we wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford
• A social gives people who will not be invited to the wedding an opportunity to share our joy
• It’s a fun way to celebrate with the whole gang before the wedding
• Everybody has a social. It’s just what we do in Manitoba.

I don’t know. I don’t buy any of these. First, couples should have the wedding that they can afford, period.

Second, you think anyone’s consoled by the fact that they didn’t get invited to the wedding, but at least they’ve been invited to help pay for it? And don’t even get me started on socials for destination weddings. Or the idea that businesses should donate prizes, as if your wedding is a charity!

And third, fun? The guests are likely having a great time, but I know brides who were a million times more stressed out about the social than they were about the wedding. And for good reason! If the social flops, you’re out a couple thousand bucks. Seems to me like people’s priorities are a bit out of whack.

The last reason (“everyone is doing it, so why shouldn’t we?) is the only one that I think has any merit. Right or wrong, it’s a cultural custom, so of course there are bound to be outsiders who think it’s weird (or unsavoury). Does it really matter what I, an outsider until quite recently, think?

Okay, now, a lot of people I know and love had socials. Whether they chose to have them for one of the reasons listed above, I don’t know – I figure it’s not really my business. I attended exactly one of them, and I had a blast (and won not one, but two really, really good prizes). From what I understand, the couple had gone above and beyond the call of duty for this social: the food was outstanding, the prizes really desirable.  And I loved them, so I was happy to go – it was basically a big party, after all, with fun people and good music. I can’t remember if “Love Shack” was played, but I know there was definitely no polka.

But I also know a handful of people who didn’t have socials, because it was just too much work, or their wedding party never offered to hold one, or the idea of having a social made them uncomfortable. Recently I heard about a local woman who told her son that if he had a social, she wouldn’t attend his wedding.  She was dead serious – she thought they were tacky and embarrassing. So he didn’t have a social. It would seem that not everyone in Manitoba is wild about them, for a variety of reasons.

Ultimately, it doesn’t really bother me to be invited to buy tickets to a social, and maybe that’s because I know I have a “I’m not from here” trump card to get out of having to buy one. But it seems like for many people, after the first few times, going to socials is not really anyone’s idea of a good time. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard strangers grumbling about “having” to go to a social. People in my age range (late twenties to mid-thirties) seem to have a pretty severe case of social burnout – what was initially a fun and novel way to spend a Saturday night has now become sort of like a trip to the dentist – one of those things you just have to do every now and then.  I asked a 30-something friend to estimate how many socials he’d been to in his life, and he immediately said, “Oh, I don’t know, 20?” Then his wife made him start naming names, and he realized it was more like 45. No wonder he said he’s through with socials!

But then, I think of A&G, good friends of ours who met 20 years ago as teenagers at a social in rural Manitoba. They’re now married with three beautiful kids. If not for socials – which were basically the only way for really-small town teens to socialize – they never would have met. And that gives me a warm and fuzzy, “only in Manitoba” sort of feeling.

So, what do you guys think? Do you think socials are fun and in fact, one of Manitoba’s most beloved cultural institutions? Do you have social burnout and hope you never have to go to another one again? Or are you somewhere in the middle – just happy to party with your friends, no matter the reason or occasion?

Here’s your chance to reveal your true feelings – under the veil of internet anonymity!

Next on Weird Wedding Traditions of Winnipeg: presentation.

I haven’t had a sudden “I’m a Winnipegger!” epiphany. But over the last month or so I’ve had this creeping realisation. It involves a pair of winter boots that I bought during my first fall here. Former WoMH’er Laurel and I went down to MEC and I bought a pair of what I thought looked like solid winter boots. To be completely honest, I think I chose them because they have pink flowers on the soles, and they were on sale. They weren’t embarrassing, but they weren’t really my idea of stylish, either.

My first winter, I wore them out caroling in December and to Festival du Voyageur in February. My second winter, I stuffed my swollen pregnant legs into them once or twice, again to Festival and to shovel snow a time or two. They were clearly boots with a practical purpose: to keep my feet from freezing.  But this, my third winter, I finally realised they are often the most practical footwear to put on, and have worn them almost every single day. And to my amazement, I get a ton of compliments on them!

My trusty Baffins

You see, these boots are a far cry from the leather knee-high, high heeled boots of my glory days in Vancouver, which I wore with tights during fall, winter, and into spring. These boots are clunky and flat and remind me of being in Grade 3, trudging through Alberta snowbanks on my way to school. These boots are insanely warm and while not particularly comfortable for walking great distances, they keep me cozy while the car is warming up (our remote starter is broken…. boo!) and getting around the neighbourhood.

The first few times someone said to me, “Nice boots!”, I thought maybe I was being gently teased for my sensible footwear. I figured that others thought the boots were a bit over the top, just the sort of thing that a prairie-style Come From Away would wear. But eventually I figured out that they were legitimate compliments. They liked them. They really liked them! I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised: In Winnipeg, people throw around brand names of winter boots like they’re brands of beer. Sorels. Kamiks. Cougars. For the record, mine are Baffins, though I had to go look at them just now to see that.

My boots have made me realise that when it’s cold, I don’t really care what I look like, I just care about being warm. It’s not like I was a particularly vain or fashion-conscious person before, but this came as a real revelation to me. Is this letting myself go? Succumbing to the stereotypical country bumpkin image of Prairie folk? Nah, I think it’s just coming to terms with the reality of our climate. Lately when I put my boots on, I feel myself becoming someone hardy, someone who a little (or a lot) of snow doesn’t bother. Someone practical and capable. I realise that’s a tall order for a simple pair of boots, but to me they really are symbolic of my integration in this salt-of-the-earth city.

One of the reasons I didn’t want to be in Vancouver anymore was that it had inexplicably ceased to feel like Canada for me. And I didn’t really know what that was all about, but then a couple weeks ago, I was talking to a girl who’s just spent her first winter in Winnipeg. She said that all the tuques and scarves and boots that she wore this past winter make her feel ultra-Canadian. So maybe that’s ultimately what I missed when I was living in Vancouver. Snow. Bundling up. Coming in from the cold. Scraping the windshield. (Okay, probably not that last one.)

Every part of our beautiful country has characteristics — good and bad — that make the locals feel like they’re home. When I moved to Vancouver I thought I was escaping Alberta’s snowstorms and the dry cold and starting the car in -30 degree weather, in favour of temperate climes year-round.  (And don’t get me wrong — there are definitely days when I would love to step off a plane in BC and be enveloped by all that glorious humidity!) But it turns out those things were what I eventually missed, without even really knowing it.  I wasn’t born here, I wasn’t raised here, but this city is really starting to feel like home. Slowly, I’m developing the pragmatic sensibility that I’ve always admired in Winnipeggers.

What makes you feel like a Winnipegger?

Well, a new day has come, for I just received my one-parter in the mail. It’s less colourful than my old one — it actually sort of looks like it’s been left in the sun to bleach —  and the (laser engraved) photo is black & white. And it’s got all sorts of fancy new features such as Guilloche patterning (yep, had to look that one up!), rainbow printing and lenticular lens.

Well, so long old two-piece license. I kept you snug in your little plastic sleeve, and you served me well. What’s next? Plastic health care cards? Only time will tell!

Mmm... A Shmoo log from Gunn's Bakery

Before I went on mat leave, my wonderful group of colleagues took me for a farewell lunch. When it came time for a celebratory dessert, I was heartily encouraged to try the feature dessert: Shmoo. At first, I thought the waiter was kidding around; I’d never heard of such a thing. Well, it’s real, it’s delicious, and you guessed it, it’s a Winnipeg thing!

What is Shmoo (or Schmoo), you ask? It’s a decadent cake/torte layered with whipped cream, nuts and caramel. I had my first taste at Chamberlyn’s, but my dining companions that fateful day speculated it was popularized by the legendary Baked Expectations.

A quick survey of Winnipeg bakeries reveals it’s a popular cake: Gunn’s, Goodies, Baked Expectations, and Pastry Castle all list it on their websites. Where does the whimsical-sounding name come from? This article from the Globe & Mail mentions that many believe it has Jewish roots, and this article from the Boston Globe (written by a former Winnipegger) says indeed, Shmoo torte is a staple dessert of Bar Mitzvahs.

Want to make your own Shmoo? Check out this recipe for Shmoo, from an Ontario food blogger who says, “I feel like a bad Canadian for never having heard of Shmoo Torte. I stumbled upon a recipe recently and discovered that this decadent cake is a Winnipeg classic and after I read the recipe, I thought I should bring a little Shmoo to Ontario, too!” Atta girl!

Where’s your favourite place to get Shmoo’ed?

Get married? Check.

Buy a house? Done.

Have a baby…  any time now!

Yep, my husband and I will welcome our first child very shortly, and since pregnancy is such a major life event, the last nine months have given me a real education in expectation. Reflecting on it all  has inspired me to share a bit about what I’ve discovered – I hope it will be of some use to fellow expectant parents in the city.  I’m certainly no pro, but I have managed to figure some things out!

Doctors, Obstetricians & Midwives

One of the most frustrating things about moving to a new city is getting yourself set up with new healthcare providers.  When I found out I was pregnant, I hadn’t yet found a family doctor, and that was pretty stressful (as if there aren’t other things on your mind when you’re in your first trimester, like not throwing up!). The Family Doctor Connection did not prove to be particularly helpful – I wound up just searching the internet for Winnipeg medical clinics accepting new patients and eventually did get into one.

Eventually I was referred to an obstetrician who think is great, but when I found out that pregnant women in Manitoba can choose to work with a doctor or a midwife, I was disappointed that I hadn’t pursued the latter option. Fortunately, we’ve been able to somewhat bridge the differing styles of prenatal care by hiring a doula who has been meeting with us regularly over the last few months, and who will be with us when our baby is born.

Midwives are funded through the province of Manitoba and can generally attend hospital and home births. Be forewarned, though: there’s a shortage of midwives in the province. According to this Free Press item, the province funds about 40, but needs more like 200.  Apparently, the College of Midwives is turning away more than half the people who want a midwifery birth. You can see a list of all midwife practices here. (Midwives support low-risk home and hospital births – pretty cool.)

Hospital Births

In Winnipeg, only St. Boniface Hospital and the Health Sciences Centre (HSC) have maternity wards.  I’ll be delivering at St. B,  which is made up of private, LDRP (labour/delivery/recovery/postpartum) rooms, and semi-private rooms. You can take a monthly “virtual tour” of the St. B maternity ward every 2nd Thursday of the month. The first half hour/45 minutes is a powerpoint presentation by an anaesthesiologist, addressing drug options for labour. The second half is a slide show and presentation by a labour & delivery nurse, and for me, this part of the presentation was much more valuable. The nurse shared when to come to the hospital, and what to bring, and answered the question that everyone wants to know: how do I get a private LDRP room? (The answer is sort of complicated, but I was relieved to know that even if you don’t get an LDRP room, you still have your own room for labour, delivery, and recovery. It’s only after the delivery that you’ll be sharing a room.)

Also of great interest to me is the construction of a free-standing birthing centre (“Women’s Health Clinic”) that is scheduled to begin by Spring of 2011. It’s expected to handle 500 births per year, and “will include a primary-care clinic and four birthing rooms, and facilities for education and counselling.” (CBC News item)

Ultrasounds

Sorry ladies, this ain’t the United States, where if you believe what you see on A Baby Story, you’d get a whole bunch of chances to see your little one in utero. In Manitoba, I’ve been told, and it was my experience, that unless you’re high risk, you’ll probably get one ultrasound at around 20 weeks. And it’s for medical purposes, not to determine the sex of the baby. (Don’t bother to ask if it’s a boy or a girl, because apparently they won’t tell you! At St. B, anyway. I’m not sure about HSC.) At St. Boniface, you can order a DVD of your ultrasound for $50 (allow  weeks for processing). This was a hard reality for me to learn, since all I wanted was one snapshot to show family and friends, and tuck into a baby book. In the end we opted save some money (am I becoming a frugal Winnipegger, or what??) and to forego the ultrasound DVD. If you’re willing to pay, BabyMoon and UC Baby are private ultrasound clinics that offer a variety of photo/DVD/etc. packages.

Doulas (a.k.a. labour coaches)

As I mentioned earlier, we found a wonderful doula through Birth Roots Doula Collective who has been meeting with us over the last few months and will be with us when I go into labour. She has been an excellent source of information, reassurance, and support and we feel very lucky to be working with her. While doulas (personal labour coaches) aren’t paid for by the province, most have a sliding scale fee policy… we are paying the full Birth Roots price at $575+tax. Other organizations such as MACFE (a non-profit) charge less.

Incidentally, word on the street is that doula services in Manitoba are way underpriced. A friend of mine in Calgary who is also expecting looked into getting a doula, and the least expensive service they found cost $900. I have heard that doulas in Toronto often charge $1000. We’ve had such a positive experience with our doula so far that I’m sure we would happily pay a higher rate, if it were required.

Prenatal classes, activities & networking

One of the downsides of moving away from your old friends is that once “baby fever” hits your gang, you may find, as I did, that you want to be around other expectant mothers but don’t know any! Fortunately I’ve been able to meet some other pregnant women through prenatal classes and prenatal yoga, both of which are held at Birth Roots. I’ve especially enjoyed the 8-week yoga class, as we generally had group discussions both before and after the class. Moksha Yoga also offers prenatal yoga, and the Winnipeg Leisure Guide lists several pre-and postnatal (and pre-/postnatal friendly) classes including yoga, aquafit, exercise, etc.

Two online forums have been somewhat useful, too: Baby Center’s Parents in Manitoba board and What to Expect’s Canadian Parents board.

Maternity & baby clothing and gear

I’ve had a lot of luck finding gently worn maternity clothes at Mom’s and Children’s Paradise, got my winter coat at Motherhood Maternity, and almost never left Thyme without something cute! As for baby gear, a colleague told me early on to watch the Zellers flyers because they routinely have big sales in the baby department… and it’s true, they do! E-Children is a smaller chain whose Winnipeg store in located in the Exchange, and they have really lovely cribs, bassinets, bedding, furniture, etc. there. We purchased cloth diapers from a local mother/daughter team who runs Canada’s Diaper Ladies. I’ve also heard good things about AMP Diapers.

And again, I wouldn’t be a thrifty Winnipegger if I didn’t scope out a bunch of garage sales a couple weekends back, and score a bunch of barely-used clothes, a Snugli, and a diaper bag for a fraction of what they would have cost new. (On a related note, this year I discovered that there are somewhat regular “community garage sales” where entire neighbourhoods plan their sales on the same weekend… I visited the Whyte Ridge sales on May 8, and the Linden Woods sale is right around the corner on June 5.)

I’ve also made excellent use of Winnipeg Public Library‘s extensive collection of pregnancy and baby name books. I’m looking forward to taking the little one to some WPL programming eventually, too!

Anyway, that’s about it (I know, this was a novel) from me on this topic. I’d love to hear about others’ experiences, tips, and comments about preparing for a baby in Manitoba… it can be an overwhelming and anxious time of life, so the more we can share with each other, the better

I still feel a little conflicted about the concept of fundraising for weddings, even though it seems like it’s basically the same pool of money (and crushing sense of guilt and obligation) that passes from one couple to the next, which I am happily exempted from since I didn’t grow up here and don’t really get it. But I can say for certain that it’s a brilliant concept for fundraising in general, especially when the proceeds are going towards community development projects and, in the case of the Winnipeg social tonight, the Health Sciences Centre Foundation, CancerCare Manitoba Foundation and Children’s Hospital Research Foundation of Manitoba.

I’m book-clubbing it up tonight, so cube cheese and rye bread are not in the picture for me, but there’s some good pre-emptive coverage of what’s in store for social goers tonight in today’s Free Press: ”Ain’t no party like a Manitoba party“. The articles includes tips & memories from fellow bloggers Ben MacPhee- Sigurdson and ChrisD as well as from other prominent ‘Peggers. It also includes a list of 20 essential social songs, which is eerily similar to the standard setlist of every junior high dance I ever went to.

Hope you get your fill of C&C Music Factory, pretzels on paper plates, and kolbassa a-plenty. And my fingers are crossed that you win the silent auction prize you want the most!