Leftover
A repost/revision for today. I'm sending my longest, sincerest string of expletives to RFK Jr. today. Fed is best, forever. Formula saves lives (including my son's).
When it became clear that I would never feed you from my body again I began to run. I left for thrift stores as soon as your dad came home. I drank lemon drops and ate chips drowned in microwaved cheese. I stayed up late, watching whatever I wanted on TV. It may have looked like a woman who had been set free. Instead, it was a woman who had swallowed the lie that her breasts were her best and closest tie to a baby who was simply hungry to live. He stopped me by the door as I was about to leave again. He asked me to stay, to spend time with our son. I lashed back: "Why would he want me? What can I give him?" "He needs you, Margaret Ann. You’re his mom."
Post-partum is like a wild storm and then the disappointment of no breast-feeding, and, yet, you went forth, loved, and are writing about it. Thank you.
Beautiful and heartfelt. And an amazing drawing !