I get paid to make people laugh in clubs around Manhattan and around the country. I don’t get paid for every set, like my husband, but I do get paid. These days, those sets come more often. Maybe because I am funnier as a fat, tired, and angry version of myself in the throes of postpartum depression. Maybe because it is just that time in my career. Maybe people think I need to get paid to feed this baby, which I do. Either way, I’m happy…ish. I’m happier on stage. I need the freedom of it. It was one of the last things I did before becoming a mom — and I kept getting up there as I struggled with the aftermath of birth, a lack of sleep, the demands of breastfeeding. One insane night, I got up on stage at the comedy club while breastfeeding. I believe the life of my daughter, my husband, and I depended on that set.
Romper Post Partum
I Breastfed During My Standup Act, & It Might Have Saved Me