yes please(11)

I told everyone at dress rehearsal. It freaked them out. At three P.M. I went to Dr. G’s office and was met by his grieving colleagues who had worked with him for decades. One of them, the lovely Dr. B, examined me and told me I shouldn’t worry. Nothing was happening and I would probably deliver a few days late. He had already treated and met with Dr. G’s other patients and would spend the next twenty-four hours delivering five babies. He was kind and professional, but it was extremely weird. He was a stranger. I went back to SNL, where I stayed until two A.M. Maya and Fred Armisen were doing bits on the main stage pretending to be robot versions of themselves, and I laughed and laughed and for the millionth time thought about how lucky I was. Eddie the security guard walked me to the car and asked me how I was doing. “I’m tired,” I said. I went home and got in bed. It was three thirty in the morning and I put on my favorite TV show, Law & Order, to go to sleep. I heard the “bam bam” sound effect in the opening credits and my water broke.

Did you know that when your water breaks the best thing to do is stand up? Your baby acts like a plug. Isn’t that insane? Strange thoughts like this and others filled my head as Will and I tenderly got ready to go to the hospital. I had that nervy feeling you get when you know your whole life is going to change and you realize you’re made of tissue paper. Will raced around and I weirdly brushed my teeth. As we got our car from the garage our doorman predicted we were going to have a girl. I sat down in Will’s car and gushed all over it. I was worried that he would be upset, but he laughed as he helped me in. I looked at him and thought, “I’ve turned into an animal now and I have a feeling this will be the nicest thing you see all night.”

I took drugs and pushed. It was hard and long. I texted Shoemaker and Seth and told them I wouldn’t be coming to work. While I tried to get my little bugger out, SNL scrambled to replace my parts. The real Elisabeth Moss came in to play herself, and she met Fred Armisen, who one year later to the day would become her husband. I would go to their wedding on my one-year-old boy Archie’s birthday. Seth Meyers prepared to do “Update” alone for the first time. He would go on to do it alone successfully for years, although I like to think it was a tiny bit less fun. My big-headed wonder couldn’t get out, and I started to think crazy thoughts. What if this was the one baby they couldn’t get out? What if they just handed me back my clothes and sent me home and said, “We are so sorry, we did what we could but we just couldn’t get him out. We wish you the best.” I felt like the bouncer of my own uterus. I was ready to turn on all the lights and kick that baby out. “Time to wrap it up. I don’t care where you go but you can’t stay here.”

I finally had a C-section. As I was wheeled into the operating room one of the nurses said, “Hey, it’s Hillary Clinton!” and I answered by barfing all over her. Full circle.

Archie was born Saturday, October 25, at 6:09 P.M., just about when we would have been getting ready to do our first run-through for “Weekend Update.” He was, and remains, perfect. My whole world cracked open and has thankfully never been the same since. I watched Saturday Night Live that night, drugged to the gills. I watched scenes that I had rehearsed hours before. I watched Maya and Kenan sing a song to me, and Seth tap my spot at the “Update” desk and tell me they loved me. I cried and cried and then laughed and laughed. I added a few more years to my life. I kissed Archie’s giant head, which was shaped like a beautiful balloon. Today we wear the same size sombrero. He is six.





HELLO, EVERYONE. MY NAME IS SETH MEYERS and I will be writing this next chapter so that Amy can take a break. It is very hard to write a book. I haven’t written one myself but I know it’s very hard because every time I have seen Amy in the past year she has greeted me by saying, “Hello,” quickly followed by, “It is very hard to write a book.” At one of these meet-ups I offered to write a chapter for her so she could rest. She said, “Yes please.” After I complete this favor for Amy I will only owe her one thousand more favors. I am not unique in my great debt to her. Most of Amy’s friends owe her around one thousand favors. She never holds it over you though. She’s not that kind of person.

I’m going to write about the night that Amy gave birth to her first son, Archie.

Before I get there, a bit of background. I first saw Amy Poehler perform in Chicago at a theater called ImprovOlympic in the midnineties. That theater is now called “iO” because the Olympics threatened to sue. The International Olympic Committee was worried people would walk into a one-hundred-seat theater on the corner of Clark and Addison and wonder why no one was jumping over hurdles.

The night I first saw Amy, she and the other performers were playing an improv game called “The Dream.” She asked for a volunteer to come onstage and tell her about their day. I raised my hand and she picked me. My first conversation with Amy was in front of an audience: me in a chair, her standing beside me. She was charming, funny, sweet, and sharp, and I left thinking, “I would like to be her friend.”

The next time I saw Amy perform was with Tina Fey in the same theater. They were workshopping a show called Women of Color. I would learn later that it was the only performance of that show. Amy would move to New York soon after and Tina would quickly follow. There weren’t a lot of people in the audience that night and for a while I thought seeing Amy and Tina perform in Chicago right before they left and got famous would be the most interesting thing that ever happened to me. In my mind it was like seeing the Beatles in Hamburg. And much, I’m sure, like someone who saw the Beatles in Hamburg, I talked about it so much that my friends eventually said, “Genug.”