Lifestyle
Updated: June 2, 2020
Originally Published: May 13, 2016
Not long ago, I found myself in an amusing yet slightly alarming discussion with a fellow mom and writer. What began as a candid confession about the chaotic state of my home quickly turned into a contest of who could share the most outrageous parenting stories. By the end, I was pretty sure I had secured the win. In the midst of our banter, a realization struck me—I seem to be curating a collection of placentas.
It all started quite innocently. My husband and I attended prenatal classes led by a lovely doula who embraced her inner free spirit. You know the type—full of earthy vibes and holistic wisdom. Our class was filled with like-minded parents-to-be, many of whom planned to have midwives assist in their deliveries, with a few even opting for home births. So, when our instructor began discussing the benefits of placenta encapsulation, we were all ears.
“Placentas are packed with nutrients that nourish your baby in utero!”
“Since your body is accustomed to these nutrients, it makes sense to gradually wean yourself off them instead of discarding them!”
“We’re the only species that doesn’t consume our placenta after giving birth!”
It all made sense, right?
I found myself oddly sentimental about these encapsulated bits of my own body. After all, that placenta was the organ I grew to nurture my daughter! Tossing it seemed unthinkable.
Our instructor happened to offer a placenta encapsulation service, and she was a masterful salesperson. Before we knew it, every expectant mother in the class had signed up for this service, which involved cooking the placenta with traditional Chinese herbs and dehydrating it—I’d rather not think too much about the details. The idea was that these pills would help ease postpartum stress and alleviate any baby blues.
What I didn’t see coming were the unexpected add-ons that accompanied my order of placenta pills. There was a tincture for teething relief, placenta water, and even a piece of art featuring my placenta’s imprint on paper. How modern and artsy! Oh, and let’s not forget the dehydrated umbilical cord shaped into a heart and nestled in an organza bag. Definitely a strange keepsake.
I dutifully took those placenta pills for several weeks, especially when I struggled with breastfeeding. I even prayed to my placenta fairy daily. Then came mastitis, and I had to stop taking the pills. When I finally felt ready to resume, my enthusiasm had waned.
So, there they sat on the counter, in their tinted jar, for three long years.
My husband wasn’t pleased about the $100 I had spent on these capsules of my own flesh, especially as I left them untouched. He would occasionally glance at the jar, giving me that knowing look of disappointment. If I had just thrown them away, we might have moved on, but instead, they served as a constant reminder of my “investment,” their accusatory presence haunting me.
Fast forward nearly three years, and I welcomed my second child, a beautiful boy, in the comfort of my home. It sounds more bohemian than it was, especially for someone accustomed to epidurals. After delivering my hefty 9-pound baby, the midwife asked if I wanted to see the placenta, and I was taken aback by its size. I couldn’t believe my body had created that!
When it came time to decide what to do with it, I hesitated. Paying another $100 for encapsulation was out of the question, but tossing it in the trash felt wrong. So, in a moment of utter exhaustion, I agreed to put it in a Tupperware container and stow it away in the freezer for future consideration.
Fast forward a year and a half, and that Tupperware is still in my freezer. Every few weeks, while searching for something to defrost for dinner, my eyes land on that unmarked container. I momentarily wonder, What’s inside? Oh right, the placenta. Yet, I never take action to dispose of it.
I do have concerns about the day my mom decides to rummage through the freezer and finds that mysterious meat. I can just envision her cooking it up, and my dad and husband chewing away, oblivious to the reality of what they’re eating. Meanwhile, I’ll be sitting there, torn between feeling grossed out and relieved that someone finally did something with my placenta.
If you’re navigating your own journey of pregnancy or considering home insemination options, you might find helpful insights at WebMD for a well-rounded approach. And for more information on self insemination, check out this resource. For a deeper dive into the fertility journey, Make a Mom is an excellent authority on this topic.
In summary, my journey through pregnancy has led to some unexpected and humorous moments. From the initial excitement of placenta encapsulation to the comical reality of having a Tupperware full of it in my freezer, each experience adds to the tapestry of motherhood.