Recently, I found myself in an unexpected conversation with a fellow mom and writer. What began as a candid discussion about the chaos of motherhood quickly escalated into a lighthearted competition to see who could share the most outrageous parenting tales. As I shared my own, it became clear that I had stumbled upon a rather peculiar issue: I seem to be accumulating a collection of placentas.
It all began innocently during prenatal classes where my husband and I met an enthusiastic doula, who embodied that quintessential hippie spirit. It was apparent that our instructor was deeply passionate about her beliefs, particularly when she began discussing the practice of placenta encapsulation. The expectant parents in the room, myself included, were captivated by her claims regarding the nutritional benefits of consuming our placentas post-birth.
“Placentas are rich in nutrients that support your baby’s development!”
“Your body is accustomed to these nutrients, so why not continue benefiting from them?”
“Humans are the only species that doesn’t consume their placentas after giving birth!”
These assertions struck a chord. I felt an emotional attachment to this organ that once nourished my child, making it difficult for me to consider discarding it.
Our doula also offered placenta encapsulation services, and her enthusiasm was infectious. Before I knew it, I had signed up for the process, which involved steaming, dehydrating, and grinding the placenta into pill form. The goal? To potentially alleviate postpartum struggles, including mood swings and fatigue.
What I didn’t expect were the additional items I received along with my placenta pills. I was given a tincture purported to ease my baby’s teething, a jar of placenta water, and even commemorative art featuring imprints of my placenta. To top it off, there was a dehydrated umbilical cord shaped like a heart. Admittedly, some of these items felt a tad bizarre.
For several weeks, I diligently took the pills, hoping they would ease my postpartum challenges. But when I was struck by mastitis, I had to pause my regimen. By the time I was ready to resume, my motivation had waned. Thus, the capsules sat on my counter for three long years.
My husband, not exactly thrilled about the $100 spent on these capsules, would occasionally glance at the jar with a mix of disappointment and disbelief. If I had simply disposed of them, we likely would have forgotten about their existence entirely. Instead, they remained a persistent reminder of what felt like a wasteful decision.
Fast forward nearly three years, and I welcomed my second child, a son, at home. While it was a step into the unknown for me, being without an epidural was quite the experience. After giving birth to a hefty 9-pound baby, the midwife asked me what I wanted to do with the placenta. This time, I wasn’t keen on paying for encapsulation again, but throwing it away felt equally wrong. Exhausted from labor, I accepted her suggestion to store it in a Tupperware container in the freezer until I could decide.
Now, a year and a half later, that container remains tucked away in the corner of my freezer. Each time I rummage through it for dinner options, I’m reminded of its presence. My thoughts briefly drift to the contents, and I chuckle to myself, recalling that it’s my placenta. But I can’t bring myself to dispose of it.
I do ponder the day my mother might visit and, unaware of its contents, decide to whip up a hearty stew from the mystery meat she discovered. I imagine the bemusement on her face when the meal doesn’t quite turn out as expected. Would I be horrified or relieved that someone finally utilized my placenta?
In conclusion, while the practices surrounding postpartum care and recovery can seem unconventional, they are rooted in a desire for well-being. If you’re exploring options for home insemination or parenting support, resources like WebMD and Make a Mom’s Cryobaby can provide valuable information to guide your journey.
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