Lamaze class One: Mark Buehrle plays Wii

Tuesday was Lynne and Matt's very first Lamaze class. Heading there, Matt had no idea what to expect. It's very hard to get the images from 1,000 baby movies and TV shows out your head when you're on your way to Lamaze class. But that's OK, because Lamaze class is more or less just like the movies and TV shows.
The class of about a dozen couples gathered in a room on the third floor of Edward Hospital. Everyone was paired up husband wife, except for one mom-daughter team. The woman said her husband didn't come because he was easily grossed out. Matt thought that was nuts, but it turned out to be a good assessment because the group was shown video of a birth. The birth was not so disgusting (even though it got in there pretty close), but the shot of the doctor holding a bucket of placenta next to the mom, was not so appetizing. Mom appeared to be thinking, "Hey, doc, thanks for the bucket of blood and insides. If you don't move it, I'm going to add puke to the mix!"
Anyhow, the larger group split into smaller groups where everyone was supposed to introduce themselves by sharing the baby's gender, their due dates and - oddly - a brush with celebrity. Matt's not sure if he's written about this, but he mentioned to the group that he is co-starring in Public Enemies, coming to theaters everywhere on July 1. (Get your tickets!)
Other couples had brushes with Patrick Ewing, Bono and Brooks Robinson. But the final couple stated matter-of-factly that they were good friends with White Sox All-Star pitcher Mark Buehrle. Oh yeah, they go down to his St. Louis home every month in the off season. Oh yeah, they talked to him this morning BEFORE THE CUBS-SOX GAME. Like it was no big deal. Like it was not the coolest thing ever. Matt wanted to ask 10,000 questions. Instead, Matt simply asked if Opening Day starter Mark Buehrle was a regular guy. They confirmed that he was and that he even plays Wii. Cool.
People should not be allowed to offer up this information in a Lamaze setting because it makes it very hard for the "Support Partner" to concentrate on the other information being presented. But Matt played it cool, making it seem that he was not impressed by the connection to Mark Buerhle, thereby bonding with this couple, so they can eventually become best friends and hang out/sleep over at Mark Buerhle's house. Smooth.
Next it was on to putting a ping-pong ball in a balloon. If you do this, then blow up the balloon, you do not have to tie the balloon closed. You can simply rest the ping pong ball over the opening and it will keep the balloon inflated. Sadly, you may then have to squeeze the balloon to replicate the cervix opening up, which is a fairly gross image, especially when a yellow ping pong ball with a smiley face is supposed to represent your kid. Ping pong balls were flying across the room, which is a bit concerning since, you know, those could have been babies.
Of course, Lynne and Matt's ping pong ball got stuck in the balloon's "cervix", thereby confirming that The Baby's head is going to be ginormous.
Finally, the class came to the most important part of Lamaze: the practice breathing. You've been breathing all your life, but when you're pregnant you actually have to practice it. That's because when the baby starts to emerge, you look down and think: this kid is much bigger than a ping pong ball. Then, you forget to breathe.
The teacher was this incredibly nice woman. She had five kids of her own; she was a nurse. She was the perfect blend of personal experience and medical knowledge. In other words, she wasn't afraid to tell you she peed on herself, but she could explain that was a normal part of amniotic fluid compressing the bladder.
The teacher started the relaxing exercises. Everyone had brought pillow and blankets, which were laid out on the floor like a peculiar indoor picnic. Then Lynne scooted up to Matt, so her back was resting against his chest and he could hold her.
The first part was to teach you how to relax your muscles. So first Lynne tightened her forehead, then relaxed it. Then her jaw, shoulders and arms, stomach...
"Now tighten your butt," the teacher said.
This is where Matt started to have problems. The first problem is that even though he is three decades old and about to be a father, the word 'butt' is pretty funny. Second, this woman was talking in a very serious, monotone, soothing voice. So that made hearing "tighten your butt" even funnier.
And Matt couldn't help but (ha ha) think about how infrequently in life you actually hear that phrase. The only other scenario Matt could imagine was being attacked by a swarm of red ants. Of course you'd close your eyes and mouth. And you could pinch your nose and cover your ears with your arms. There would be only one opening for the ants to target!
"Tighten your butt!" your friends would yell, as they scoured entomology books to for red-ant wrangling techniques.
Even then, the phrase would not be said in a calm, soothing voice, most likely.
Still, Matt controlled himself and did not laugh out loud. He is not a juvenile, after all.
Unfortunately, then the teacher started the imagery.
"Imagine you're at a soothing beach," she told the class.
Okay, Matt thought. He imagined the Pacific Ocean, in Florida, where they had visited Lynne's sister Laura earlier this year. Very nice.
"You're walking down a long pier. Now you step off the pier."
It was at this point that Matt started to wonder. Why was he at the beach? Was he all alone? Did anyone bring lunch?
"You're all alone."
Oh.
"You step off the pier and feel the sand beneath your feet. You take off your shoes. You're wearing shorts and a shirt. They're very loose fitting and you feel the breeze on your skin."
What did I do with the shoes? Am I still carrying them? And I find it unlikely I would wear shoes to the beach. Probably sandals. And - if I was wearing shoes - does that mean I still have my socks on as I'm walking down the beach? That makes no sense.
"You stare out into the water and see a beautiful sunset."
The sunset would look cooler with pirates. And how much is this vacation costing us?
"You walk to the edge of the water. The waves slowly roll in and you feel the cool, gentle water running over your legs."
What kind of beach is this, where the pier doesn't go all the way to the water? What is the point of the pier exactly? It goes to the middle of the sand then lets people off to walk around in their socks?
"Down the beach you hear the sound of..."
At this point the teacher hesitated for just a moment, looking for the right image. And Matt wondered what soothing sound was coming next.
"...two seagulls fighting over a piece of abandoned bread."
And that was it. Forwhatever reason, this phrase set Matt off. It was probably the word 'abandoned,' as if the bread had been part of a family that longer wished to have an association with him. Matt started to almost laugh. He bit his lip. He thought of unfunny things, like health care and carburetors.
Matt begged his brain to stop. Lynne was going to need him. He was her support partner. She was preparing for one of the most miraculous and difficult experiences a human being can go through. And Matt was being a joker.
Matt tried to excuse this behavior, but then he noticed the WOMAN ACROSS FROM THEM WAS CRYING. Actual tears running down her face. Matt looked around. All the couples seemed to be lovingly walking down the imaginary beach, oblivious to hypodermic needles that might be laying in the sand.
Stop it! This is serious stuff. Matt held his breath. He rubbed Lynne's arm.
And finally, mercifully, the exercise ended.
Lynne turned toward Matt.
Matt knew he was probably in trouble. She must have felt him giggling, or seen him staring at the ceiling. She'd give him an elbow to the ribs, tell him to shape up. Tell him that in three months he'd be in charge of another human life and that's not a joke. It's real life, mister.
Lynne turned to him and said: "I couldn't stop thinking about all the sand I'd get in my toes at the beach. And was it a long pier or one of those piers that ran along the shore?"