I’ve been Holstein, Jersey,
and Brown Swiss. I’ve been Alpine
and Nubian.
I’ve been every breed
tethered to you when there’s not
enough of me to sustain you.
I’m running empty, again.
I’m squeezed raw, your leaky fountain,
your waning antigen, the broken latch
key. A jeweler sold out of gold
and cream-colored pearls.
I’m running empty, again.
I’ve been pressurized and vacuumized.
I’ve measured myself out in ounces
and the desperate pull of milliliters.
It’s 9 AM. I’m running empty, again.
Click here to read Lisa Rua-Ware on the origin of the poem.
Image by Jaye Haych on unsplash.com, licensed under CC 2.0.
Lisa Rua-Ware:
I wrote “Low Supply” while caring for my youngest as an infant. Even though I learned a thing or two with my firstborn, I was still surprised by how difficult breastfeeding was. After numerous feeding and pumping sessions, I started to see myself as an animal or object who was meant to serve rather than as a person. I also felt like I was failing at something that I believed was both necessary for my baby’s health and strongly indicated whether I was a good mother or not.
With this poem, I tried to draw the reader into my mental state. Specifically, the exhaustion, guilt, and shame of not succeeding at something that should be easy and natural. “Low supply” refers both to my milk supply and the “emptiness” that occurs when you’ve convinced yourself you can’t measure up or are somehow less than. I use repetition of “I’m running empty, again” and language tied to breastfeeding (for example, “gold and cream-colored pearls” refers to the “liquid gold” phrasing often associated with breastmilk) to stress these emotions.
Lisa Rua-Ware is a poet in central Massachusetts. Her work has appeared in Lily Poetry Review, The MacGuffin, FOLIO, and elsewhere. When she’s not chasing after her two kids, she works as a technical writer.
Latest posts by Lisa Rua-Ware
(see all)
