“This is how you should do it”
I’m no stranger to the advice
But don’t condemn me for the choices I’ve made
So that I look contrite
My eyes will bulge
I’ll let the night take its toll
Because hearing little cries alone
Isn’t gentle on my soul
I’ll sit here in my robe
As she hangs off the boob
I’ll tell you nicely with a smile
We’ll stop when she’s twenty two
I wonder some days
Did you care to look
At her,
Instead of that textbook?
Boob or bottles
Shushing or a gentle pat.
I guess every baby’s different.
Fancy that?
It’s hard to explain
This constant attachment
It’s exhausting some days, but manageable
But if I could try, I guess I would say
My bond with her won’t be intangible
I accept in motherhood
There will be many noises
In a brazen attempt to
Validate their choices
To be independent
That doesn’t sound so crazy?
Did we forget along the way
That she’s just a baby?
It’s only a given
These indifferent opinions.
But I can’t help but wonder
Will it always be like this?
Do they get to an age
Where advice isn’t so generously dished?
I know I’ll make mistakes
I know I have my flaws
But I want to say I did my best
And not that I did yours.