I still don't really feel like a mother. It's sporadic; I mean- when I've got my girl in my arms I can feel it, and when I'm at home living life like it never happened I feel nothing. And I feel bad for not feeling anything. And I know that it's silly.

Still.

I have to go strip to the waist, hook myself up to an oversized "personal" electric milking machine, which requires the use of both hands constantly to keep the horns properly placed on my nipples, and thus I operate the on/off switch with my toes about half the time. I'm going to be tied to this machine. Because I love my baby, and because this is the only thing that gives me peace right now; it's the only thing that the woman who shared her body with this child can give her right now. I can't be there to hold her, or to soothe her cries, or feed her when she's hungry or change her diapers. I can't be there when her eyes open and she looks around trying to make sense of this strange new world. I can't be there to sit with her for hours, just being there.

but I can pump those depressingly small plastic bags of milk.