Just because you're going to be a dad doesn't mean life as you know it is over. The truth is, fatherhood can be very cool -- if you know how to do it right. Mack Daddy is for every guy out there who wants to raise the best kid possible without losing his edge as a man. This isn't a book about how to get in touch with your nurturing side. (Kids already have a mom.) This is real, unfiltered advice for real men -- guys who don't give a $#!+ about being sensitive or politically correct.
From dealing with your hormonal partner (there is no "we" in pregnant) to handling the birth and beyond, Mack Daddy will tell you everything you need to know-- guerilla feeding techniques, changing diapers on the fly, downshifting your driving lingo from XXX to PG,making your kid fearless, cutting through school B.S., dealing with hot mommas, and making it all fun - to steer your way to being a dad who's cool, in control and even more his own man than ever before.
EPIDURALS – THIS IS YOUR WIFE/THIS IS YOUR WIFE ON DRUGS
The scene is always played out the same way. Expectant mom digs organic foods, herbal remedies and hemp jogging suits. She’s heard about so-and-so who recently gave birth naturally, i.e., sans anesthesia. (Note: so-and-so is never a direct friend – as with most urban legends, it’s always a friend of a friend.)
In her ninth month, said friend strolled out into a field of daisies, removed her Birkenstocks, squatted, chanted a Nepalese pain reduction mantra, and in a matter of minutes, gave birth painlessly -- aided only by her friend Windsong, who, after chewing through the umbilical cord, wrapped the infant in stone washed burlap, held it aloft in praise and thanks to Goddess and named it…Shecky.
This apocryphal tale has been circling the globe as long as the I bought a babe a drink at the airport and woke up in a tub of ice minus a kidney story. Many women find it appealing, and who wouldn’t? Daisies and sunshine beat tile, stainless steel and fluorescents. A calm, knowing midwife, resembling Pocahontas, beats hell out of Dr. Friedman the Ob/Gyn, who resembles Larry David.
As appealing as this bullshit story is, most women hedge their birthing bets and cherry-pick elements from the fantasy. Seeking the relative security of 21st century medicine, they go to the hospital, but announce upon arrival they will definitely not be needing an epidural. Upon hearing this, the Ob/Gyn’s must bite holes in their tongues trying to suppress the laughter. Then they run down the hall and place a bet with the rest of the floor crew as to what time nature girl will first shriek GIMMETHEFUCKINGDRUGS!
Unfortunately by then, there may not be an anesthesiologist in the house. They may have to send out for one, and maybe it’s his poker night and he’s got a $10,000 stack of chips (chump change to these guys – wait’ll you see the bill!) in front of him and I’m gonna play another few hands and nature girl can wait.
There she lies, huffing and puffing and trying all the pain reduction techniques from the class, but nothing would reduce that pain like a few dozen CC’s of Novocain mainlined into her lower back.
What exactly is an epidural? Epi means ‘surrounding’ and Dura refers to the spine. (Is that how they came up with EpiLady razors?) There’s this tissue around the spine where the nerve endings disperse and it’s that space where they jab her with one BIG ASS needle full of zoom juice. Then, they connect an IV to it so they can pump more drugs into her as needed.
That’s the only time I felt really afraid for my wife. When the Zonk Doctor strolled in pushing a tray with a blue napkin draped over a syringe the size of a Bud Tall Boy, I got queasy. Luckily, these guys know the drill and make sure mommy never gets to eyeball the spike. But it’s damn scary to think of somebody poking around near spinal tissue – visions of Chris Reeve and Stephen Hawking loomed large.
If your wife insists on playing it au natural, be sure to wear ear-plugs and an athletic cup. In the agony of contractions, through eyes clamped shut with blinding pain, they often seek and find the source of all this suffering – your testicles – and try to kick, crush or rip them from their moorings. Beware.
When they finally cave and request the dose, maintain your distance. Even if Zonk Doc’s aim is true, it takes a while for the junk to kick in. Once it does, she’s numb from the ass down. Sometimes they miss the “spot” and have to jab again. Look out!
So, Mack Daddy, try to encourage your chick to embrace modern medicine and spare everybody the whole goofy, counterproductive charade.