Despite reading a bunch of parenting books during my pregnancy, I had no idea what I was doing when I gave birth to my daughter. The nurses at the hospital showed me how to change her diaper, feed her, hold her while supporting her neck and of course, bathe her.
When I was discharged, my husband put her in the car seat as I turned to him and nervously said, “I don’t remember anything the nurses said but I guess we’re parents now, right?”
I remember giving her her first bath at home.
She was so fragile and small that I basically dunked her little body in the water and swooped her out as though she was getting baptized. As the months went on, I gained more confidence and the baths got longer.
During bath time one night when she was around 3 years old, I was about to get the washcloth to clean her private parts when she stops me. She laughs, “It feels funny when you do this, mommy. Like tickling.”
I freeze. This was around the time the #metoo movement was getting global recognition and it got me thinking about consent.
Honestly, I was a bit ignorant because up until this point, I kinda treated her like a blob of flesh that I fed, hugged, kissed, cleaned, held, picked up and dropped off. It never crossed my mind to ask for consent when she couldn’t talk.
But now her language development and communication skills were at a point where she could clearly articulate her thoughts and feelings.
We were starting to have real conversations. It felt like she had transformed from a baby into a kid overnight.
So we started a very important conversation that night. I put my hands in my lap and said to her, “I think it’s time for you to learn how to clean your own private parts.”
I hand her the washcloth and tell her to gently wipe her vulva from front to back and from in to out. After, I asked if this was something she could do. She nods, gives a wide smile and says, “Yep.”
As I continue washing her back, I realized I can keep the conversation going and I begin to teach her about her body and what consent means.
I emphasize that her body is her own and that no one can touch it without her permission.
She has a right to make decisions about her body. And I give an example of if she doesn’t want to give or receive hugs from family or friends, she can say no — it’s important they respect that.
Later that day, I was doing some work on my computer when she hopped onto my lap abruptly. So I brought back our bath time conversation about consent and said, “You know how we talked about how your body is your own? Well, mommy’s body is her own, too.”
Then I explain how we need to be able to look at people’s personal boundaries by reading their body language and seeing if they’re comfortable having you in their space. I reassure her that I love having her on my lap but when I’m working, it may not be the best time to do this and she needs to respect that. I told her to ask or say to me that she wants me to hold her instead of immediately jumping onto my lap.
Over the past two years, we’ve talked about many things that were never talked about when I was growing up.
I’m continuing to build trust with her so that she can tell me anything. She’s learning to recognize how she feels when she’s uncomfortable with certain situations.
I never thought I would have a conversation about consent with my kids because I was never taught this as a child. I didn’t understand what consent meant until I was in university where I had to ask people to sign research participation consent forms. Having difficult conversations wasn’t something my parents did with me.
But I’m glad I’m starting the conversation now with my kids because I’m helping to create a generation that not only respects healthy boundaries, it understands the serious consequences when consent is violated.
