Needless to say, given our present "situation" and after missing the fourth Bonnie Granola, we were very distressed to learn we would not be able to attend the fifth and final class. For the life of me, I cannot, now remember what was so important that we couldn't pick up and drive 4 plus hours for a 2 hour class, but we could not.
Bonnie talked with some of her fellow co-workers, most likely bartering some granola for some awkward looking posters of a woman's bra declaring that all women need a little support and viola... we were given permission to make the class up with Anne. The night before our journey was to begin we received an email from Bonnie telling us that Anne was really great, although her teaching style was very different and that she wished us all the best.
The next day we arrive at Wake Med and enter the room next door to our usual granola haven. I quickly glance around and notice that while the chairs are in a circle, they are not in the familiar "I am so close to the other person I might be forced to birth their child if they go into labor" position. The wall art seems scarce and I immediately decide if a natural birth cult was started this group would be its fringers.
It's possible they want on board, but they just can't commit.
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| How much granola is this worth? |
Mr. Eanes and I take our seats, our eyes move to their usual down position, and in walks Different Teaching Style Anne. With one glance it is very apparent that Anne has never had granola. She is wearing a matching pants suit I am almost certain can be found on the rack in Ann Taylor, heels, make-up, and jewelry; specifically teacher jewelry.
You know the kind, it's chunky, has matching earrings, often color coordinates with your outfit, and you may or may not be able to incorporate holiday themed charms to it around Christmas and Valentines day. It's the kind of jewelry teachers throw on with khaki pants and a solid color t-shirt just daring someone to say they are not dressed professionally enough.
What could really be more professional than Jack Frost hanging off your neck?
After surveying Anne for a good five minutes, I concluded that not only is she wearing a bra with support, there is no way this woman would be giving birth to anything in front of this class.
People continue to trickle in and I begin to feel a bit awkward when it appears only about 8 of the 20 some odd chairs are going to be full. When Different Teaching Style Anne opens up the sharing time no one speaks. I continue to look down and dig my nails into Mr. Eanes leg. Perhaps a yelp of pain will help relieve the thick cloud of anxiety in the air. When this doesn't work I blurt out our news that Mia is breech and immediately wish I would have kept it to myself as 7 unfamiliar eyes are now all gazing at me.
I decide the best way out of the situation is to make a b-line for the snack counter, but a desperate glance over my shoulder reveals the painful truth... there are none. Instead, I look down. Class eventually continues and multiple times I find myself wanting to nod off, being in this class would be comparable to taking a kid accustom to the circus to a Catholic mass instead.
I am dying.
We have a pop quiz and Anne asks multiple questions regarding labor and delivery... I can answer them all and quickly. I attempt to restrain myself, relating to the position of a teacher who continues to have the same student answer all the questions.
Guess all those terrible noises and hands on body movements are teaching me something after all.
We learn this last class is devoted to the cesarean birth, "when more is needed", and are finally given an interactive task when Anne announces we will be walking through a mock c-section. Each class member picks a role for the operation, I bypass anything that looks to be too involved, such as OB or patient, and stick with the role of a nurse. Mr. Eanes takes so long to wander over and look around that he is given the last role available- the pediatrician.
Some brave class member allows a very nervous looking anesthesiologist to give her an epidural and then she lays back for her operation. I wear a mask over my mouth and stand there looking down at the girl and pray this is not me. Lacking dramatics and umbilical cords, the baby is born. After being seen by the parents, the naked cabbage patch doll is handed to the newly board certified Dr. Eanes, who holds the thing out like it has a disease. Different Teaching Style Anne encourages John to cradle the new baby rather than holding it under the armpits... the other anti-granolas laugh and I make a mental note to discuss proper baby holds with the Mister.
Class ends early, there is the absence of hugging, and while the affirmations are placed out on the table... no one claims one. Certificates of completion are passed out and we receive one saying we have graduated birthing class. Different Teaching Style Anne swings by at the end of class with an envelope that has my hand writing on the outside. She reminds me of our our first Bonnie Granola class, when we wrote our worries on a piece of paper and sealed them up.
We open the envelopes and pull out our worries, along with the worry dolls Bonnie Granola had placed inside. I look around at the anti-granolas... they are also reading their worries... minus the doll; and I think how boring their life must be.
I am so glad we were in Bonnie Granola's class.
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| We love you, Bonnie Granola. |
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