Well, folks, I have officially become the crazy lady who plans to eat her own placenta. This afternoon I spent several hours speaking with different people who advertise their “placenta preservation” services while simultaneously coming to terms with the fact that impending Motherhood has turned me into a complete and utter hippie weirdo. In the past I made fun of January Jones for taking placenta vitamins, but it looks like now I’m going to have to eat my words (literally).
It had never crossed my mind to get myself a placenta pick-me-up. In fact, until recently, I’m not sure I even really understood what a placenta was.
Placenta: the organ in most mammals formed in the lining of the uterus by the union of the uterine mucous membrane with the membranes of the fetus that provides for the nourishment of the fetus and the elimination of its waste products.
Basically, it’s this rather large pouch that comes out after your baby has made his or her journey down the Yellow Brick Road of the birth canal and popped out of your vagina. Oh, and the thing weighs approximately two pounds and looks disgusting. Taking all of the gory details into account, one might ask, “Anna, why in God’s name would you want to eat that?!” Eating your own placenta is supposed to help with post-partum bleeding, post-partum depression and milk-production. It’s also great for your skin, and since I live in the land of perfect people known as Hollywood, I’ll basically swallow anything that’s purported to make me look younger (except semen. That I just won’t do, as my Husband would love to tell you).
The biggest reason I’m setting aside my squeamishness is because I’m concerned about post-partum depression. I have this recurrent nightmare that I’m trying to drown myself in my kid’s infant bathtub while sobbing inconsolably. It’s horrifying; especially since those tubs don’t really hold enough water to do much damage. I’ve had my struggles with depression in the past, and while the pregnancy hormones often make me feel as though I’ve snorted several lines of cocaine before my morning coffee, I’ve heard the let down after birth can be brutal. I figure if swallowing some ground up placenta pills might keep me from sticking my head in the oven, or worse, from an all-expenses paid vacation to the psych ward, I’m willing to give it a try.
I’ll be transporting my placenta in your average Igloo cooler, which prior to birth will contain delicious snacks to enjoy during labor, including Almond Milk Yogurt, soy cheese, and kale chips. After I give birth, while I’m getting to know my little one, my long-suffering husband will be in charge of making sure my placenta is bagged, labeled and put on ice in our cooler. He’ll then call the placenta pick-up hotline, and someone who makes placenta jerky for a living will show up to whisk away the goods. After about a week or so, a bottle of pills filled with placenta dust will be delivered to my home for me to enjoy daily. I’m sure they’ll taste absolutely delicious with a side of wheatgrass, some sprouted grain toast, and a very dry martini.
