Abstract
The journey of motherhood takes unexpected turns, including unconventional practices that challenge societal norms. This narrative reflects on one mother’s experience with placenta encapsulation, the emotional ties to her own biological material, and the humorous implications of storing it in her freezer.
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Recently, I found myself engaged in a candid discussion with a fellow writer and mother. What began as an embarrassing confession about my home’s disarray escalated into a competition of who could share the most shocking revelations. My final disclosure made me realize I might just be winning the gross-out contest—and also that I might have developed a peculiar habit: collecting placentas.
This unusual journey commenced during prenatal classes led by a particularly earthy and spirited doula, who I suspect had a substantial hippie influence. The class was filled with other like-minded parents, all eager to explore alternative birthing methods, including midwifery and even home births. It was in this environment that our instructor introduced the concept of encapsulating placentas after childbirth.
“Placentas are rich in nutrients essential for your baby!” she proclaimed. “We are the only species that doesn’t consume our placenta after birth!” It all seemed reasonable, and I found myself drawn to the idea of preserving this organ that had nourished my daughter.
To my surprise, our doula offered placenta encapsulation services. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and soon all the expectant mothers, including myself, signed up. The process involved brewing the placenta with traditional herbs and dehydrating it. The promise was that these pills would help mitigate postpartum challenges.
What I didn’t anticipate were the unexpected extras that accompanied my order: a tincture for my baby’s teething, placenta water, and even commemorative art featuring imprints of my placenta. I also received my dehydrated umbilical cord, shaped into a heart. Strangely sentimental, I kept it all, convinced I was doing something meaningful.
For weeks, I took the placenta pills with hope, especially during the challenging early days of breastfeeding. However, after a bout of mastitis, I abandoned the regimen and left the pills to gather dust on the counter. They remained there for three years, a constant reminder of my investment in these capsules made from my own body. My partner was less than pleased about the expenditure, and every few months, his disappointment was palpable as he glanced at the jar.
Yet, I felt a strange attachment to those capsules. They symbolized the bond between me and my daughter. Almost three years later, I welcomed my second child at home—a decision that felt both liberating and daunting. After delivering my baby boy, the midwife presented me with the enormous placenta, and I was left contemplating its fate.
This time, I opted not to encapsulate, but I couldn’t just toss it out. The midwife suggested I store it in a Tupperware in the freezer until I made a decision. Now, a year and a half later, it still sits there, a mystery among the frozen goods. Each time I rummage through the freezer, I spot the container and remember what’s inside. I often find myself chuckling at the thought of my mother discovering it while looking for something to cook.
In conclusion, my interactions with my own biological material have been a unique aspect of my motherhood journey, filled with humor, sentimentality, and the occasional gross-out moment. For those interested in exploring home insemination, resources like those at Make a Mom can provide valuable information, as can Womens Health for understanding fertility.
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Keyphrase: placenta collection in freezer
Tags: [“home insemination kit” “home insemination syringe” “self insemination”]