It moves and fascinates me to witness my physician-daughter’s first-hand education about the human body through motherhood.
She winces and puts a hand to her breasts. “What is happening with this let down reflex? Sometimes it seems totally random.”
“Do you mean physiologically, emotionally…?” I ask.
“Well, everything, I guess.”
We talked about other ways the body responds, independent of the intellect – mouth-watering, shivering at a repellant thought, sexual responses, the various forms of rush evoked by a strain of music, a poignant turn of phrase, a scene in a movie, or an infant’s voice (even if you’re not breast-feeding).
Seeing my daughter feel and marvel and wonder at her own body’s behavior elicits one of those rushes in me –throat lump, tingles blossoming outward from the core. There are so many versions of the let down reflex that begin with motherhood and manifest in myriad ways forever. This Grandma version is just the newest kind.
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 96: 156 words, TOTAL = 16,212; 43,788 remaining
Robin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs.