Dad Is Fat by Jim Gaffigan Read Free Book Online Page A

intervention or drugs. Great. As the pregnancy got into its third trimester, Jeannie became more and more enamored with home birth. She began talking about having our next baby at home. Great, whatever, and I went back to whatever I was eating. When she finally went into labor with Marre, we still were planning on going to Bellevue. The midwife came over, monitored the baby, and Jeannie walked around the apartment distressing about eventually going to the hospital.
    By this time, I was aware that home birth was a safe alternative, but I still expected to be heading to the hospital at any moment. We had a bag packed and everything. The baby was in the right position, healthy with a strong heartbeat, and Jeannie just needed regular contractions to push the baby out.Then I remember Jeannie turning to me and announcing she wanted to have the baby at home. She was way too uncomfortable to go anywhere. Um, great. I stopped eating. I didn’t know what to do.
    The midwife had all the necessary medical items for a home birth with her and told me to warm some towels and cover the things that we didn’t want blood on. Um, okay. “Blood on”? I’d never attended a birth, let alone a home birth. So I went to work. When the midwife and Jeannie eventually returned from the bathroom to the living room, they started laughing. Well, Jeannie was making pain noises, but there were some laughterlike sounds in her pain noises.
    I had put a shower curtain on the floor, covered the couches and our new flat-screen TV with garbage bags. The midwife asked, “What do you think is going to happen in here?” I never said I was smart.
    The labor was long and painful for Jeannie, but she did it. Marre arrived as we were all kneeling on the living room floor. The baby was perfect and healthy, and we were at home. I was so impressed by the midwife. She was incredibly skillful and professional but at the same time peaceful and respectful during the process. We all celebrated with champagne, and Jeannie and I got to sleep in our own bed. We were convinced. If we were going to have more babies and the pregnancies were normal, we would have babies at home. For our next baby, Jack, we planned a water birth. At the time, we did not understand that what you plan for a birth and what actually happens are not always synonymous. Jeannie labored in the tub, but Jack arrived in her arms on the way to the bedroom as the waterwas being refilled. I tried to explain to the newborn that he did it all wrong, but he really didn’t seem to care and just fell asleep. Katie, Michael, and Patrick were much better listeners. They all arrived under water in the tub and were greeted by their brothers and sisters shortly thereafter. Jeannie recovered quickly after the births, so I didn’t feel bad about asking her to “hurry up and clean the mess.” Whenever people tell me “You go on stage and make people laugh—you must be brave,” I always think of Jeannie. She really is amazing. So are midwives. If I ever give birth myself, I’m definitely going midwife.
    I’m not antidoctor. I think there is way too much pressure on doctors these days to be God-like saviors, and as a result there is much arrogance in the medical community. Doctors always have the attitude of “Look, we are scientists—we’ve figured out the human body. Trust us.” Yet whenever I go for a checkup, they are always like, “It’s either a freckle, or we have to amputate your head. That will be five thousand dollars.” I think most people’s apprehension about home birth is the absence of the doctor. I mean, could you imagine if there was no doctor at Jesus’s birth? That could have changed the course of history.

Newbornland
    I’m not surprised by how much I love my children. I’m relieved. Shortly after I found out Jeannie was pregnant for the first time, I was worried. Would I be able to provide the unconditional love of a parent? I always found those Anne Geddes baby-flower photos