Jenny Slate was a human mammal who sniffed the air every morning hoping to find another person to love who would love her, and then we are pleased to report that she did fall in love, but also she was rabid with fear of losing this love because of past injury. And then what happened was that she became a wild-pregnant-mammal-thing, and then she exploded herself by having a whole baby blast through her vagina. Herein lies an account of this journey, told in five phases --- Single, True Love, Pregnancy, Baby and Ongoing --- through luminous, laugh-out-loud funny essays that take the form of letters to a doctor, dreams of a stork, fantasy therapy sessions, gossip between raccoons, excerpts from an imaginary olden timey play, obituaries, theories about post-partum hair loss, graduation speeches and more.

You may "know" Jenny Slate from her Netflix special, "Stage Fright," or as the creator of Marcel the Shell, or as the star of Obvious Child. But you don't really know Jenny Slate until you get bonked on the head by her absolutely singular writing style. To see the world through Jenny's eyes is to see it as though for the first time, shimmering with strangeness and possibility. As she will remind you, we live on an ancient ball that rotates around a bigger ball made up of lights and gasses that are science gasses, not farts (don't be immature). Heartbreak, confusion and misogyny stalk this blue-green sphere, yes, but it is also a place of wild delight and unconstrained vitality, a place where we can start living as soon as we are born, and we can be born at any time.