Sweet joy, sweet joy, I hum against the kitten cry of my newborn daughter, three days old, who directs her distress at my dry nipple. Home today from the hospital and no milk yet in my breasts. Since the doctors cut her out of me, she has been living on fat reserves and a few drops of the sticky, yellow colostrum I squeeze from my body into her rooting mouth. Baby wolf trying to howl, no sound coming out. Baby polar bear burrowing into white, substance-less snow.
Half of all young will starve by spring, the narrator intones.

Read more of Amy Monticello’s dispatch from Eau Claire, Wisconsin and the harsh wilderness of new motherhood. “Sometimes parents don’t have the luxury of patience.”
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Sweet joy, sweet joy, I hum against the kitten cry of my newborn daughter, three days old, who directs her distress at my dry nipple. Home today from the hospital and no milk yet in my breasts. Since the doctors cut her out of me, she has been living on fat reserves and a few drops of the sticky, yellow colostrum I squeeze from my body into her rooting mouth. Baby wolf trying to howl, no sound coming out. Baby polar bear burrowing into white, substance-less snow.

Half of all young will starve by spring, the narrator intones.

Read more of Amy Monticello’s dispatch from Eau Claire, Wisconsin and the harsh wilderness of new motherhood. “Sometimes parents don’t have the luxury of patience.”

   

Tags: #William Blake #Polar Vortex #Wisconsin #Eau Claire #motherhood #dispatches #Amy Monticello #breastfeeding