Often we focus on “getting through” those first few weeks, but I want to talk about something that we emphatically recommend for the second month and beyond. 

You must get involved in a new parents’ group.  Several options include Mommy and Me yoga class, La Leche League, ECFE, Yahoo! Groups, Meetup.com organizations, or your local chapter of MOMS Club International. 

At home with a young infant, we often feel isolated.  Then, when we dare to brave the elements—taking no longer than an hour and a half to get nursed, padded, diapered, and packed—to go out for a simple cup of coffee, we feel isolated still.  Look at everyone going about life as if life is normal.  Business suits?  Huh?  Make-up?  I don’t understand… 

You need to make contact with a collection of your peers. 

That is, you need to be around other folks with tired eyes and messy hair and spit up stained jeans.  It does not matter, I promise you, who co-sleeps and who cribs, who uses cloth and who uses disposable diapers.  You will learn from one another and you will commiserate.  You will feel somewhat normal in the midst of others somewhat like you.

In your new playgroup or postpartum exercise class, it will be normal to whip out a boob or bust out a diaper.  It will be normal to weep over a dropped pacifier.  It will be normal to admit that you’re jealous that your spouse “gets to” go to work. 

You will delight in watching your baby “play” with other babies (basically, they look at each other).  You will enjoy marking milestones and watching a group of children grow together. 

I myself have joined several “Mommy Groups” through the years.  Because we moved frequently during the first few months of parenthood, it was always a way to make an instant connection—not just friends, but peers—people living in the same wacky, wonky, sleep-deprived world of poop talk and soul-piercing love. 

Lately I’ve been thinking about the first group I joined, when my daughter was three months old.  I’m Facebook friends with a few of the now seasoned moms who I met in the very beginning of my life as a parent.  Most of us—having met in a military town—have since relocated, so we’re not good friends in the traditional sense.  We don’t talk much.  We don’t even write more than the occasional photo comment.  Still, I have such a fondness for these people.  They were incredibly important to me in that first year.  They understood the pace of a day with a newborn, and it was a joy to spend at least a day or two per week in something other than solitude. 

In our country, we like to say that it takes a village, yet we put a lot on the individual. 

Listen to your doula.  Don’t be lonely!  The true village may be hard to come by, but you deserve a community.  Get connected.

Whoever “she” is, I’m assuming she’s someone special, but she won’t necessarily feel that way after birth.  While pregnant, she was a rock star and a goddess—a glowing, flowing, life-affirming beauty who stopped traffic and many grandmotherly belly-rubbers offering well meaning, though perhaps outdated, advice.  She was fawned over and fantastically optimistic; celebrated and adored.  Now, postpartum, the attention shifts to the little nugget who polished her luster for those nine months.  And she—your dear friend or lover or sister, as the case may be—is bleeding and sweating and saggy and tired, losing some hair and a lot of sleep.

Almost everyone bypasses her in favor of her tiny sidekick, which doesn’t bother her, because she is so proud and so suddenly selfless.

Still, as the mint green overalls with the whimsical floating elephant/floating peanut print are lovingly held to her chest, appreciated with a thank you note, and hung neatly in the closet, don’t you think it would be fun to get something special for her? 

Let’s face it.  Between her excited preparation (and Grandma’s), various gifts, and hand-me-downs, she has enough layette for baby to wear a new outfit every single day of this first year.  She has burp cloths and bath accessories, rattles and receiving blankets.  She has everything she thinks she will need, so why not think beyond the recommended baby registry?

10 ideas for AHHH-mazing New Mama gifts that you won’t find at Babies R Us:

1. New mama pajamas.  Make it soft, cotton, comfortable, and cute.
2. Sushi and champagne.  Or a cold-cuts sandwich and some beer.  Take her favorite meal that she abstained from during pregnancy and share it with her in celebration of the birth (don’t forget to do the dishes and throw in a load of laundry).
3. An in-home pedicure.  Call around.  Most local shops will travel.
4. Diaper service.  Is she cloth diaper curious?  Make sure before you get this luxury gift.  Maybe she just needs help figuring out the logistics.
5. A homemade coupon for 8 FREE hours of babysitting service.  No expiration date.  Call her on it if a few months roll by and she’s been too shy to cash in.  On the rough days, this gift will give her something to look forward to.
6. A month or two of Netflix.  She’ll be home.  She’ll be nursing late at night.  Dates with hubby will be “exhausted on the couch” for some time.  A good flick will make her feel connected and adult and alive.
7. A wonderful healthy snacks basket.  She will forget to eat.  After you’ve presented this gift to her, distribute the snacks evenly to all of her typical nursing stations.  This will remind her to take care of herself, and will remind her that she is cared for.
8. An at-home spa/relaxation basket.  Tea, candles, lotions, oils, bubbles.  Her shower or bath will most likely be her favorite time of the day, and her only self-permitted moment for personal space.  This gift will encourage her to linger just a moment longer and will make the bathroom oasis much more fun.  If she’s nursing, you might want to make sure creams and oils are mostly natural and not overwhelmingly fragranced.
9. Gift cards for favorite take-out/delivery restaurants.  Are you getting the picture?  Food is important.  Both Mom and Pop will forget.  Feed them.  They don’t want to cook.
10. A postpartum doula.  Duh.  Wink wink.  Nod nod.  Naturally.

What do you wish people would have given you following the birth of your baby(ies)?

Some midwives and doulas work in teams, some work solo, but have an emergency backup ready, and some work for an agency.

Lately, in my own regional community of birth professionals, working for an agency has been questioned—politely, but nonetheless with an undeniable air of mistrust.

I guess the feeling is that an “agency” is intrinsically “big business” and that a team of doulas, trained and maintained by one company, must be—as opposed to the individual—somewhat impersonal, while trying to work in an environment that calls for intimacy.

I find myself feeling pretty heated up about this, to be honest; not because I’m adamantly in favor of the agency over the individual, but because I am an individual, who happens to work for an agency.  And I’m a damn good doula.

One point of clarification that may be crucial in dissipating this vague mistrust and misunderstanding is the fact that postpartum doulas, while perhaps similar in personality and capacity for compassion, do very different work than birth doulas.

Birth is a singular event—one that is fluid and varied, of course, but one that takes place within a relatively small period of time.  I can see why it would be hard for a birth doula to envision a mother hiring an agency.  Birth doulas are not supposed to do shift changes and there is hardly the opportunity to swap mid-labor if a doula and birthing mother “don’t click.”  Birth doulas almost always provide at least one at home check-in in the postpartum period, but their work is mainly isolated to the labor event.

Postpartum doulas usually care for a family over the period of several shifts.  They are in the home, in the most intimate and turbulent of times.  Many postpartum doulas are able to take on this work as an individual practitioner by scheduling shifts around their other obligations, and they do a great job.  I have tried working on my own myself and found it to be challenging.

I work for an agency, first and foremost, because I can’t handle the amount of hours required by families with multiples, which—in my recent experience—make up at least half of the client base seeking postpartum care.  Families with two or more newborns need ‘round the clock care for the first few weeks, sometimes for the first few months.  As a mother and a writer and a human being who needs sleep, I literally could not give a mom of multiples what she truly needs!

Much like a birth doula, a postpartum doula often faces scheduling conflicts, or too many women needing care at one time.  Unlike a birth doula, a postpartum doula does not have to worry about overlapping hours occurring when two women go into labor on the same day.  She has to worry about weeks, and sometimes months, of overlapping need.

Ideally, a new mother will have one doula.  At our agency we try to keep it to as few as possible.  The job sometimes mandates that two doulas share a client, just to keep up with the logistics of her genuine need.  This isn’t a bad thing, however.  Usually, a client likes having two!  Perhaps Doula Lisa is a great cook, while Doula Amanda is a breastfeeding genius.  A client will learn to reserve certain tasks for specific doulas, and she has the benefit of two different perspectives and two professionals with different areas of expertise.

Many doulas encourage prospective clients to interview a variety of doulas so that they might find “just the right fit.”  I love working for an agency, because I know that the new mother seeking care can always find the right fit, through trial and error if need be.  She can trade me in if our personalities don’t mesh.  In fact, I would rather she did.  She deserves care that is tailor-made.  On that note, most clients are thrilled with their doula, because our director knows the staff very well and is skilled at matching the caregiver to the family.

The benefits of working for an agency, for me, don’t end at general shift coverage.  I use my fellow doulas for advice and information.  We share and trade and learn.  I become 10 doulas in one with the varied experience of my coworkers.  Also, the agency provides continuing education and training opportunities, different speakers and invitations to conferences.  I feel constantly updated and on top of the latest information in my field, in a way that I might not if left to my own devices.

In the beginning, I shied away from the idea of a company.  I too thought it might be impersonal.  I wanted to be creative in my practice and forge my own way in the childbirth and maternal care community.  As it turns out, I do my own thing with a few agency guidelines which are good and not at all limiting.  I still work as I would if running my own personal practice, but I enjoy the benefits of education and support.

A doula has many choices when it comes to her twisting, turning, feast or famine practice.  This is what works for me.

Dear Mamas, Mothers-to-Be, Super Supportive Fathers, and Postpartum Wellness Advocates,

Have you heard?  The holiday season now starts at around 5pm on October 31^st.

Did you know?  As you hear the playful opening notes of “Santa Baby” for the first out of what will surely be 20,000 times before the New Year, you are to burst and blur and flurry in activity and chaos—boots pulled over pajama pants, paper cup of something festive in hand, to-do list (also the first of many) in sweaty, shaky hand.

Now, we buy more.  And we do more too.  There isn’t one neighborhood gathering, but five.  And one of them is a progressive dinner.  And once you figure out what the heck that is, you realize that you’ll have to run to the store because you have to make something…with your given ingredient—hazelnuts.  And what are hazelnuts?  And if the whole neighborhood is stopping by for something creative topped with what you now know are also called filberts, the house will have to sparkle.

And you have a really nasty cold.

Your friendly neighborhood doula will tell you, with your new baby in loving arms, to stop and go to bed; to have some tea and an egg sandwich.

That’s what we do.  We put you to bed.  We feed you.  We take care of everything so you can rest.

I don’t care if it’s July or December—I will ask that you sit it out, just a little bit.  Find peace on earth in a dimly lit bedroom with your beautiful newborn.

And, quite frankly, I don’t care if your baby is a newborn or a teenager.  I want you to slow down.  I want you to breathe.  I want you to eat and drink and be merry in earnest.

Christmas has passed.  Do not buy one more gift.  Do not scramble to get out what you will now call New Year’s cards.  Do not roll another cookie (unless you will take all day, loving every minute, ignoring the mess).  Do not squeeze in another forced obligation.

Enough.

It’s enough.

You’re enough.

Enjoy.  Unplug.  You have too much information already.  You have too much on your plate.  Lay low and take it in.  Be good to the mothers in your life and if you are a mother, be oh-so-very good to yourself.

We’ve been laying low at the blog over the holidays.  We don’t want to be another item on anyone’s to-do-athon.  Plus, twinkle lights and winter skies are pretty, and we want to see them too.  During our brief hiatus we will be posting little thoughts and tiny tidbits…and cute baby pictures.  So stop by—only if you have the time, only if your feet are up, only if a little pause would make you feel good.  For now, our information push is moving over for a slower pace and our light and fluffy side.  Happy, Happy, Merry.

Soup! By Jen Wittes

In researching the postpartum customs of various cultures, I found that the most common meal recommendation for the postnatal woman is soup.  Soup, soup, soup.  Every culture has its reasons, from expected benefits to ritual and tradition.

Here’s what I think…

Soup is a wonderful postpartum food.  It tastes good.  It feels good, slowly warming the throat, then the heart, then the belly.  How perfect for a postnatal woman, who has just exerted those three areas (and then some) during birth.

Soup is comfort food.  It’s like a tuck-in to old blankets.  It is usually healthy, containing a variety of ingredients; and it is both hearty and light at the same time.  When you don’t feel like eating, soup is easy to take.

A soup pot can feed a family of four—pretty effortlessly—for days.

Any abundant intake of warm liquid can only help with rehydration and production of breast milk.

I have made soup for many of my clients…either their recipes or my own.  I’ve seen the proof with my own eyes! The world over, postpartum women love soup.

I can’t give soup enough of a shout out, and I can’t shout about it without sharing some recipes.

Traditional Korean Postpartum Seaweed Soup (for healing and milk production)

• 1 oz dried seaweed
• 1 Tbsp sesame oil
• 3 cups soup stock*
• 2 Tbsp soy sauce
• 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• Salt to taste

Preparation:

1. Rehydrate seaweed by placing in a large bowl and covering with water for 30 minutes. (Note: 1 oz of dried seaweed looks very small, but it rehydrates to about 2 cups)
2. Drain seaweed, squeeze out excess water, and cut into 2-inch pieces.
3. In soup pot over medium heat, sauté seaweed in sesame oil for 2 minutes.
4. Add garlic and soy sauce and sauté for another 2 minutes.
5. Pour stock into pot and turn heat to high.
6. When soup begins to boil, turn down to simmer and cook for 20 minutes or until the soup looks milky.

Doula Jen’s White Chili

Ingredients:

-ground turkey or chicken

-32 oz. chicken broth

-1/2 an onion, diced…red or white

-2 different cans of beans: black, navy, white northern, lentil, kidney, pinto are all good.

-1 small can diced green chili pepper

-chili powder

-cayenne pepper

-chopped garlic

-dash salt

-lime juice

-chopped cilantro

1. Brown meat with chopped onion.
2. Add everything else except lime juice and cilantro.  Do spices to taste.
3. Simmer for about an hour.
4. Two minutes before serving, add lime and cilantro.

Now, I know what you’re thinking…this soup could spell gas and trouble for mom and baby.  True, some moms and babies have sensitive tummies in those first days, but honestly—most don’t, or don’t have problems severe enough to sacrifice food variety and flavor.  This is relatively low-fat, energizing, and fun.  You can offer a side of toppings:  cheese, sour cream, olives, jalapenos, sliced tomato, avocado, tortilla chips.  And, for those concerned with spice and indigestion, you can easily tailor the heat level to Mom’s preference.

Root Veggie Puree

(Got this one from one of my clients.  It filled her home with the smells of Thanksgiving, on an early October day.  This recipe is pure comfort.)

Ingredients:

-One yellow onion

-1 tablespoon butter

-about 4 large carrots, peeled and cubed

-about 1 cup chopped celery OR celeriac

-4 small golden potatoes, peeled and cubed

-32 oz. chicken broth (vegetable will do for non-meat eaters)

-rosemary

-thyme

-salt and pepper to taste

1.  Sautee onions in butter until translucent.

2.  Add carrots, celery, and potatoes and sauté for another 3 minutes to soften.

3.  Add broth, plus 2 teaspoons each of rosemary and thyme.

4.  Salt and pepper to taste.

5. Cover and simmer for about 30 minutes.

6. When everything is cooked and soft, puree the whole pot in a blender or food processor.

7.  Top with homemade croutons or serve with sourdough bread and butter.

Strange Reasons, But Not Completely Strange by Jen Wittes

Some pregnancy, birth, and postpartum traditions from other cultures may seem strange and superstitious, but underneath the ritual and folklore are roots in common sense and sound medical advice.  Check it out:

-In Mexico, a pregnant or postpartum woman must avoid things death-related, including funerals.  No cemeteries, no funerals, no burials.  The superstition, popular amongst many cultures, is that exposure to death will bring about the death of the baby.  Of course, this notion has little scientific footing, but the practice—in my opinion—isn’t completely crazy.  Studies have shown that Cortisol, the stress hormone, can negatively affect the baby and that depressed or sad mothers transfer their emotions to the child.  Besides that, it seems appropriate to be tender with a woman carrying and caring for new life.  She possesses an extraordinary sensitivity under the influence of her new and expanding collection of feelings and responsibilities.  If she must go to a funeral to process and grieve, of course she should go.  But if sitting it out feels right, I can see why.

-In Ghana, a woman is instructed to cross her legs in the postpartum period; for fear that a wandering draft of air will enter, resulting in bleeding and/or a permanently fat abdomen.  Air is hardly that evil, but some women—even here in America—choose to heal the rips and tears of childbirth not with stitches, but by keeping their legs closed during the postpartum recovery.  As for the bleeding, we do know that overexertion, moving around, and too much action in the pelvic region can lead to an increase in lochia (post-birth bleeding).  As for the fat abdomen?  Well, we know that rest and respect for everything waist-down helps with involution, or the return of the uterus to the pre-pregnant size. Both the uterine and abdominal muscles must rest and recover in order to eventually get back in shape.

-In Bali, a newborn’s feet do not touch the ground for 105 days.  She is continuously passed from family member to family member, friend to friend, neighbor to neighbor.  On the 105^th day, there is a ceremony and the baby touches the ground for the first time.  It is seen as a return to the earth.  Before this point, the child is considered a divine creature.  There are many helpers for this event, and all of them must be exorcised, lest they harm the baby in transition from the heavenly to the mortal.  While all of this may seem, to some, religious superstition, I believe that it supports the importance of bonding.  It is a time of touch and togetherness and unyielding focus on the new baby.

-The Navajo women are expected to breastfeed, so that their child will not take on the nature of the animal by taking in its meat or by-products.  Roots, again, in myth and superstition, but many doctors and supporters of breastfeeding feel that a newborn, free of teeth and with immature digestive system, cannot yet handle food from animals.

-Mexico, Greece, India, Pakistan, China, Vietnam, and many more places around the world emphasize the 40 day period of lying-in.  A new mother would not dream of disobeying her confinement.  There may be some superstition and worry sprinkled in various corners of this practice, but for the most part, it is in place for rest, recovery, transition, and bonding.  Nothing strange about that!

The Cuarentena by Jen Wittes

Over a year ago, I wrote an article for Skirt! Magazine called “40 Days.”  It touched on my desire, as a postpartum doula, to give American women what is strictly and lovingly enforced and observed in other cultures:  the lying in period.

You can read the article here:

http://skirt.com/essays/40-days

What the “40 Days” refer to is something that Latin cultures call la cuarentena, or “the quarantine.”  The Chinese call it Zuoyezi, which roughly translates to “sitting out a month.”  In Africa, India, and several other cultures around the globe, lying in is the norm.  And 40 days does seem to be the average.  About a month.  A whole month of nursing, bonding and recovery.

In America, we would think such a thing spoiled, lazy, or overdramatic.  I’m not going to get into that too much—we all know how it is—but I do want to point out that this period of 40 days is not a luxury or part of some exotic foreign ritual.  The lying-in period is a necessity.

And let me be clear about what “lying in” means, around the world.  It means that you don’t leave the house.  You don’t go to Target.  You don’t go on a date.  You concentrate on health—you eat foods that agree with the post-pregnant body, you don’t lift anything, you don’t entertain, you don’t worry or scramble, and in most cases, you don’t even shower much…and on that note, you don’t even think of having sex.

In most cultures, the village model of family care is a comfortable practice.  Grandma will be there cooking.  Little sis will play with the older kids.  Aunty will instruct on breastfeeding.  Your own mother will clean the house and groom you, protect your lair and advocate.  Neighbors and village elders will fill in the blanks.

In America, we have our boundaries and our gadgets and our own lives, not to mention long distance separating many new mothers from their loved ones.  But our stretched out, stressed out, disjointed villages are only part of the problem.

Our.  Women.  Are.  Restless.

The solution? We need to allow the full month of recovery.  Women need to give themselves permission to take it.

Placentophagy, or the eating of one’s placenta.  Let’s sort it out, shall we?

I’ve been wary, I’ve been shy.  I’ve been curious, but relatively uninformed, considering my profession. But this little doula can’t ignore the idea of placenta ingestion any longer.  There’s an increasing buzz about the benefits, and when you delve into what those benefits include, the slightly unorthodox practice seems pretty darn desirable.

Almost every mammal—save seafaring breeds, camels, and the majority of Western humans—eats their placenta after the birth.  We all—sort of—have an awareness of that…right?

Alternative, natural healing supporters in the Western world have also dabbled in the practice—but this group is a minority within their own minority.

But now, with the increased popularity of placenta encapsulation (drying it out and turning it into pills), this fleshy “Tree of Life” is becoming more user-friendly. The idea is that this nutrient rich organ, still chock full of the hormones of pregnancy, can help replenish and recharge a new mom in her postpartum recovery and overwhelming transition. Rich in iron, B-vitamins, and many other nutrients, the organ that helped to sustain your baby’s life is thought to be ‘pregnant’ with possibility in the days, weeks, and months after birth.

After a mother has exerted herself in pregnancy and labor, it does make sense that she would need an energy boost from naturally derived vitamins.  Iron could help with any depletion suffered from blood loss.  Some doctors in mild opposition of placentophagy argue that wild animals eat the placenta in an instinctive fit of resourcefulness—they do, after all, hunt and gather their own food.  This same crowd would say that a modern woman, with access to a variety of nutrient-rich foods, does not need the placenta.  She can go to the grocery store; she can take a multivitamin.

Placentophagists would argue that while the vitamins and nutrients are potent and perhaps even unparalleled, there’s more to the practice of ingesting the after birth than basic nutrition.

The placenta—once the regulator, labor initiator, and instinct manager of pregnancy—is said to be still overflowing with hormones.  Taking in a meal of placenta, or taking it slowly over time in pill form, is said to keep a woman even, thus avoiding the hormonal drop which is one of the many things that lead to baby blues and other postpartum mood disorders.

But wait, there’s more!  The extra boost of oxytocin is said to aid in milk supply, and the placental leftover prostoalandin is supposed to aid in involution, or the shrinking of the uterus.  Milk production, involution, and mood management!  Music to a postpartum doula’s ears.  But I have to wonder—is it too good to be true?

Unfortunately, like many ‘off-beat’ yet possibly life-changing practices, very little research has been done on the subject.  Minimal studies in rats showed that ingested placenta acted as a mild analgesic and another study concluded that when a placenta is taken from an animal in a cage, it becomes withdrawn and disinterested in its young.  Of course, the Chinese have been preparing dried placenta for centuries, but we don’t have much scientific data to back the custom here in the U.S.

That’s a shame, I’d like to know more, but I also kind of want to say, “So what?”

Pregnancy and childbirth and motherhood are natural events and if ingesting placenta helps moms—and I’ve read dozens of testimonials that lead me to believe it does—I don’t really need a scientific study to tell me what’s what.  While I’m not ready to shout, “Eat your placenta!” from the rooftops, I’m not going to call the practice pointless.  Clearly, it does the trick for many women.  I just haven’t seen it first hand…yet.

A birth doula friend of mine recently made a placenta smoothie for a client.  It was your traditional power drink made with juice, yogurt, frozen berries—and oh yeah…placenta.  The woman who drank it said it was the best thing she ever tasted.  After sucking the whole thing down, she felt incredible—energized, happy, and strong.

I must confess that upon hearing this, I sort of started craving a placenta smoothie.  I even imagined how it would taste—both sweet and salty, both strange and familiar, and honestly, a little bloody.

And then I had a moment of misgiving about my own placenta disposal—frozen, on garbage day, to avoid the parade of dogs.  Had I missed my big chance?  Would my hormonal make-up forever suffer inadequacy?

You see, some women freeze their capsules in hopes of enjoying a lifetime of placenta pick me up.  Late depression after weaning?  Get out the placenta pills.  Menopause, you say?  Well, these little things will work! 

In preparation for writing this blog post, and after secretly fantasizing about a placenta smoothie, I actually Googled something along the lines of, “Placenta pills for sale.”  Driven by curiosity, a mean case of PMS, and these really wonky hormones that are a direct result of my work as a postpartum caregiver (more on that later), I was seriously considering purchasing someone else’s placenta—on the black market, if necessary.

I’m kidding…sort of.  What I really wanted to know is whether or not there was something I could offer a woman who had discarded her placenta, but wanted to experience the benefits of placentophagy.

Turns out there are a lot of sheep placenta pills for sale, and if you dare me to, I might take one.  At any rate, I’m opening my mind to the possibilities of the placenta.  And while I have a strong practice of not pushing my own beliefs or new ideas on a client (especially those that fall too predictably under the hemp-stitched banner of doula), I will definitely be armed with more information if she asks.  And, I think I feel confident enough in the harmlessness-to-potential-benefit ratio to add it to my list of “ways women deal with postpartum depression.”

Until then, more curiosity and research and yeah—a little bit of reverence for the body’s only temporary-by-design organ.

Still with me?  Can we talk about this?  Can you help me learn more?

What do you think of placentophagy and placenta encapsulation?  Would you try it?  Have you tried it?  Is it old-wives’ tale, stroke of genius, or a mix of both?  Any funny or interesting placenta tales to share?  Do tell. 

My guesses were somewhat accurate, however, I didn’t give the matter much thought and in fact, was surprised when—shortly after birth—I had to push out one more thing.  The late contractions and slithery expulsion of the placenta were far more unpleasant, to me, than the intense sensations experienced moments before in actual birth.  It seemed that in the calm after “the big show” I felt the lesser pain of involution and the birthing of the placenta more acutely than I’d felt the rest.

In truth, childbirth is all encompassing and ends in euphoria—it would make sense that the little twitches and tremors (and the detachment and release of a huge, fleshy thing) would seem like a nuisance or at best, an afterthought.

I didn’t look at my daughter’s placenta.  I didn’t even think to and besides, a viewing wasn’t offered.  Best I can tell from the pictures from that day, it was dumped in a bucket, where it sat patiently at the feet of the doctor as she mended my tears.

With my second child, I decided to have a home birth.  In reading and researching how one might best accomplish this, I learned a little more about the placenta, but not much.  As you would imagine, the “Tree of Life” received a few more shout-outs in the crunchier, homebirth population and likewise, books devoted to natural and instinctive birth.

And perhaps because homebirthers are after all, actually responsible for the thing, they often feel the need to “do” something with their placentas.  In my reading, I came across stories of tree planting, printmaking, spiritual ceremonies, and of course, placentophagy—or, the eating of one’s afterbirth.

I was mildly curious about all this hullaballoo and ritual, but felt certain that none of it was for me.  I actually wanted to know—waaaaaaay ahead of time—if there was a special placenta drop-off site with certain hours of operation.  My plan was to get it the heck out of my house as soon as possible.  The answer given to me by my midwives was, “Freeze it and throw it out on trash day, otherwise you might find a neighborhood dog running down the street with your placenta.”

I quite liked that one and quickly developed an affinity for placenta humor.  How many times have I told the story of my then husband’s quest to make French fries for our daughter, following our son’s birth?  Are you sure we have fries?  “Did you check under the placenta?”

A friend of mine, at the time, pointed me in the direction of her online birth story.  She had a free, unassisted, lotus birth—no midwives, no doctors, no cutting of the cord.  That’s right—your friendly neighborhood placenta stays attached to the baby by umbilical cord and is, if need be, toted around in a little dish, perhaps after an herbal preparation to prevent unpleasant odor.  So yeah, this woman did all that, and also ate a bite of it.  Cut it right off with a knife and fork—a little square, if I remember correctly.  She described it as earthy and cosmic.  She also said that it had tasted like the day—her daughter’s birthday.

How I both envied and recoiled at her experience.

I mean, on some level I got it.  If something in me made me desire homebirth, why couldn’t she have the whole enchilada?  And folks, you’d better believe there’s a recipe for placenta enchilada out there.  I’ve seen pizza, lasagna, smoothies, pita sandwiches, stews…it’s apparently a very versatile ingredient.

But I’m getting off track.  Back then, I liked my afterbirth jokes and read about lotus births as if reading about a newly discovered alien civilization.  My feelings ping ponged from fascination to discrimination and it’s safe to say that I was pretty detached from my own miracle meat.

My midwives kind of insisted that I look at the placenta I created for my son.  It was enormous!  And still in my broken membrane sack.  Interesting enough, somewhat surprising.  But amazing?  I just wasn’t there yet.

And to tell you the truth, I’m still not.  But I want to be.  I mean, the placenta is something that actually fits the overused word “awesome.”  An entire organ that satisfies the needs of two—the only I know of that is spontaneously created several years into life.  It is the only disposable organ, and when you think of how powerful it is for such a short period of time, you can easily get lost in marveling over the intricacies of instinct, evolution, and biology—and, oh yeah, the amazing power of women.

Shortly after my son was born, I was asked if I ever get sentimental about his belly button…because that is where he was attached to me.  Our common point?  The placenta.  Pretty cool.  Still, I don’t find myself flipping out over the thing, like some do.

Why am I telling you this?  Well, I am hearing more and more about this whole placentophagy thing—in particular, placenta encapsulation.  This is when a trained placenta preparer (I know one personally, actually) comes over, cooks your placenta, grinds it into powder, and turns it into anywhere from 80-200 pills.  It’s one of those things that you can easily roll your eyes at or chalk up to hippy kookiness.  I wouldn’t say that I’ve been that closed-minded about it—I am somewhat aware of the hows and whys.  And I think I’m ready to take a closer look.

You see, the shout-outs in resounding favor of ingesting placenta all point to postpartum emotional health as the number one benefit.

As a postpartum doula, how can I not dive into this and—at long last—become a friend of the placenta, if not an expert?

But again, why did I have to tell you all about my vague and disorienting history with the placenta?  Because—ha ha—I know what it sounds like when a doula researches or recommends something “earthy.”  It can easily be written off as “too alternative” or weird or fruity—you know, incense and organic peppermint tea.  I joke, but I wanted to point out that I’m right there with you.  Eating what was once your organ is a little bit weird.  But only because it’s not the norm.  Postpartum care is not the norm.  Some people think it’s weird to have a postpartum doula—and, well, you can imagine how I feel about that.

I am always jabbering on and on about how women focus—almost magnetically—on labor and childbirth, neglecting to plan for postpartum rest and recovery.  It’s almost comical—me, a teacher and advocate for what comes after birth, has somewhat shied away from what we often refer to as the afterbirth.

So, come on.  Stay with us this week.  Let’s rock the placenta, or at least make peace with it, and decide whether or not messing with it can offer true benefits to our new mamas.

Both require a little intentional strategizing. We might not be able to help you make one more Target run, but we can offer a few suggestions on how to make Christmas a lesson in generosity and care for the less fortunate. One way to tangibly bring your children into the lives of those who have less is through the Salvation Army’s Adopt-A-Family program. When you sponsor a family for Christmas, you take on the responsibility and joy of providing Christmas gifts for a family that may not otherwise have them.

You kids share the excitement of shopping for their adopted “brothers and sisters” and picking out toys, treats, and mittens. You may be surprised at their generosity and their willingness to even forego a few of their own presents under the tree for the sake of others.

The Salvation Army family sponsorship drive in Minnesota is taking place today (November 30) and tomorrow (December 1). Click here for more details.