The Bottle

I sit down with her in my lap
The bottle
In my hand
Her little head resting on my breast

Waves of defeat wash over me
All the disappointment from the c-section
To the lack of casseroles in my kitchen
To the way I looked at the pediatrician today

Already gaunt
Thin
Pale
And overwhelmed 

The reflection of my face
Startling me
Staring back
From the elevator doors

My “perfect” pregnancy
A half mast memory
Clanging
Ripped and tattered
Against the pole

It all slides over my head
Down my face
Mingling with the tears
Falling onto that sweet velveteen crown
The little precious terrible thing
I have been wrestling with for nights on end

Takes the bottle right away
However foreign
Sucks down its chemically simulated contents

No pious refusal
No holding out for mothers milk

I nod through my tears
Kiss her head over
And over again

Feel an uncomfortable
Ripping distance
Tearing from her to me

I can’t stand it
Missing already
The sharp pain from the first latch
Her tiny weight
Rising
And falling
On my chest

This is the last “bottle”
She’ll get from me

A triumphant 1980’s video montage
Plays through my head
Complete with a bouncing
Curly headed toddler
Laughing

And sunshine
Splaying through nursery windows
Colored castles
On paper
Littering the floor 

Till I’m dead
Or dried up like a prune

I will put her on my breast
Let her suck the very life out of me
Be connected
Like when she was kicking and swaying
In my womb

See those tiny
Giant eyes
Stare through me
Scan the room
Flutter
And close
With contentment 

I will eat mountains of food
Drink rivers of water
While simultaneously
Sleeping
“When the baby sleeps”
And keeping my house
From turning into a garbage dump
For baby things
And dirty dishes

Wasted dreams of idyllic motherhood

Being mommy
Is hard
Nothing is perfect
In the way we mean it

And still
The stretch of her hands
Her persistent chin

When her bottom lip
Falls into an angry pout 

Or the corners turn
Into a crooked grin
Just like mine 

I know
Even with my head in my hands
I would happily
Tear someone’s throat out
With my teeth

To prevent her harm

I would break every bone in my body
Or in anyone else’s 

To get to her

Now I understand

A little more
Of Calvary

What one would do
For ones child

The next time she wakes up
I’ll be ready
Find
That overlooked reservoir of strength

Tap into the resolve
That will get us
To the morning

Wander into the bathroom
Tears dried on my cheeks
The cut
In my abdomen
Throbbing a little
With each step

Brush my teeth
Change the dressing
On the incision
Collapse
Into the couch

Watch her dream
In the bunny bassinet

Repeat in my mind
That

“This is when he comes.
God.
This is when the eagle thing happens.”

Till my eyes
Lock on her
Scan the room

Flutter
And close