My Boobs may be Smart, but They are also Sensitive

Yesterday, just before my first time at the pump, I received an email about a manuscript I’d sent out for publication review.  I sat with bottles in hand debating whether or not I should read it first or pump first, and being that I have no impulse control, I decided to read it first.

It wasn’t good news.  This, in and of itself, is not surprising.  I had sent my B+ paper to an A journal, so I would have been a bit shocked if I had received a OH YES THIS IS THE PAPER WE’VE BEEN LOOKING for response.  Nonetheless, I was hoping that I had misjudged the quality of the paper and they thought it was better than I did.  One of those “Oh!  My standards are so high that it’s well above the bar for this journal.”

Guess what?  It wasn’t!  I was accurate in the assessment of the (lack of) quality of my paper!  That’s the ‘bad’ news.  The good news is that this paper will find a home, and it won’t be a C journal.  I have to just figure where to send it next.  For those of you out there who fear rejection, listen to me:  YOU LIVE.  It’s not the worst thing in the world to get a rejection letter.  It happens.  You live.  You move on.  It’s not an indictment of your worth as a human.

Still I should have waited until after I pumped to read the letter.  I was reading the email with the pumps at my breasts and…nothing was happening.  Nothing.  Not. A. Drop.  I pumped for 3 minutes and doodly squat was happening.  I immediately knew that my stress had gone up and my milk wasn’t letting down.  But I needed to pump. 

So I stopped reading the email and closed my eyes.  Well, first I called Dave and told him that my manuscript had been rejected and I was having a hard time pumping.  Then I closed my eyes.  I thought of Conor snuggling on my neck.  That usually does it.  But this time, whht…whht…whht…the pump was dry.  I thought of Conor that morning in my arms.  How I was admiring his naked little feet pointing and flexing in quiet enjoyment of the boob.  How his little toes pressed against the chair.  How I really needed to clip his toe nails.  Whhht….whhht.  I saw Patches coming up to lick Conor’s feet, his ears dropped and his eyes soft, loving Conor’s feet as much as I do but in our own ways.  Whhht…whhhht.  I remembered looking down into Conor’s big blue eyes as he was looking up to study my face, his hand rising up to touch my mouth, explore my teeth, and pull on my lips.  Plop…plop….plop….plop!!! Finally, milk was emerging, drops frantically flying out of my body to join their friends at the bottom of the bottle. 

That’s the first time that had happened to me.  I’ve had several friends who would pump for 10 minutes and get one ounce when they knew their boobs should be full.  Who knew boobs were so sensitive?  I always try to take deep breathes and think of Conor snuggling.  Who knew that in stress, I’d need some guided meditation.

It’s amazing to me what my boobs can do.  They are the best body part I’ve ever had. 

7:10:13 AM