This is such a National Enquirer click bait caption; like “Brad Pitt impregnates alien to begin hottest interspecies colony”. Which. To be fair. I’d probs read the hell out of.
However, my intention with this dramatic title is for it to be read to the tune of the absolute KP banger, “I Kissed A Girl” See? Much better. Now instead of you picturing me crouching in a cave absolutely mowing down on my placenta, you’re humming a catchy pop tune.
So. For those still reading out of morbid curiosity…
This blog post is dedicated to placenta encapsulation. Let’s dive in, bitches!
For those unaware, or still squeamish from the title, placenta encapsulation is: The practice of ingesting the placenta after it has been steamed, dehydrated, ground, and placed into pills. Traditionally, this is taken by the mother and is believed to impart numerous health benefits.
FYI I totes just copied and posted that handy explanation straight from the internets, and my lazy arse ain’t gonna bother to cite my source. SUCK IT, MR.Z!
But yes. I did encapsulate my placenta, and based on my experience, couldn’t recommend it enough. In no way shape or form am I an expert on the topic, and I highly encourage anyone looking into it to do the research. There are a lot of naysayers and they do raise valid points. The loudest being that it’s all unfounded hoo-ha and any effects were from a placebo. For me, the decision to go with encapsulation was personal.
To anyone thinking about, or curious about being a placenta muncher, Imma hit you with the pro’s and con’s that I experienced.
Placenta Pill Pro’s:
A touted benefit of poppin’ the pills is that it can help with milk supply. Breastfeeding was something that I really wanted to take a crack at. (click here for the Momish lowdown on breastfeeding ) So anything to help my little lady lumps (In the front. I could feed quadruplets from the back…if it worked that way) produce enough milk, I was down to try. After a traumatic labor that ended in an emergency c-section, my milk came in on day 3, hours after taking the first pill. WHICH COULD BE A TOTAL COINCIDENCE. But that same day my knockers inflated to a size that would make Pamela Anderson jeal, and I never had an issue with supply.
Another noted perk to this process is that it can aid in healing and replacing crap loads of iron lost during birth. I did notice on those days I was feeling exhausted, or wiped out, a pill would def put some pep in my step. Again, it could totally be a placebo effect, but I did notice a difference.
This pro certainly scared the shit out of my friends when I brought aforementioned momento to baby group. The wonderful little hippy midwife took it upon herself to dehydrate Thing 1’s umbilical cord into a heart shape. Being a lifelong sentimental hoarder, I of course treasure the crap out of that creepy talisman. Also. I plan on busting it out when her teenage friends are over and telling them about her tail we had removed at birth. Win/win.
Post Partum Depression.
Something a lot of people don't know about me is that I have a history of depression and have needed anti-depressants in the past. I know. SHOCKING. I’m always such a bright and positive person (if Baby Daddy is reading this his eyes are rolling so hard he can almost see his spine). So I was really nervous that moving to a new country, 6 months pregnant and newly married, it was gonna be a perfect storm for my old depression demons to hit. It was this claimed benefit alone that convinced me to fork out the money for the encapsulation. I knew many refuted this method but if there was any chance it could help, I was gonna take it. And for me, it totally did. Even Baby Daddy would ask on those days when I was weepy and struggling if I had taken my pill, and I hadn’t.
I cannot reiterate enough that because I had this experience doesn’t mean it’s a miracle cure or that you shouldn’t seek actual, real medical advice. I wanted it to work badly enough and it happened to. But you can bet your sweet asses if it hadn’t I would have sought proper medical help. PPD is a bitch and doesn’t discriminate there is NO SHAME in admitting that everything isn’t ok.
Yeah. You read that right. The pills were hard to swallow. Literally. They had this metallic flesh taste. So I’ve never actually eaten flesh, but it tasted like what I imagine a zombies breath to smell like. Wait, it gets worse. And when I burped, IT TASTED LIKE ACTUAL BLOOD! So ratchet. But could be considered a pro as my zombie blood breath served as a nice contraceptive method.
No matter how you look at it, £200 is a lot of money to fork out for your ground up placenta. There are soooo many things I could buy with that money. Think of the wine. All the wine.
You have to be organised af.
This is not a strong suit of mine as I’ve always been more of a ‘fly by the seat of my pants’ kinda ga’, but you had to have yo shit together for when you went into labour. A service retained and to be notified when labour starts that there will soon be a placenta for them to collect at the hospital. And contact again as soon as it’s ready. You need to bring your own Tupperware from home and make sure your hospital has facilities for you to refrigerate until it can be picked up.
I’ll never forget Baby Daddy uncertainly clutching the container in the Operating Room and instructing the FREAKED OUT surgeon that we would like the placenta put in there to encapsulate. It was for sure an extremely odd request, but even as everything was going wrong with delivery, Baby Daddy knew how important it was to me, he stuck to the plan.
Lose your street cred.
No matter how you spin it, when you bring up encapsulation you become this odd hippy mom. People assume I also knit scarves with yarn shoved up my vag (For real. Have you seen that video?! Shits cray) or kept Thing 1 attached to my rotting placenta for weeks after birth (Also. That video is bananas). It is not remotely the norm in baby group circles. Be prepared to answer a buttload of questions (keep the bloody burps on the DL) and use your quirky ice breaker to your advantage!
I’m sure I’ve sufficiently grossed out whoever was strong stomached enough to make it to the end, so I’ll end it here. But I wanted to reiterate that anyone interested should do further research, and feel free to contact me for any additional questions. I would hands down do this process again should we add a Thing 2 into the mix.
Now. Go hit that glass (bottle) of wine. You’ve earned it for absolutely rocking another hard day of Momming your arse off…well..that and for all the disgusting images I’ve burned onto your brain!