Why would anyone want to consume their own placenta? It’s not supported by mainstream medical practitioners (possibly because pharmaceutical companies can’t sell or synthesize it as a product) and as a consequence, there’s little in terms of documented studies that determine the effects of postpartum placenta consumption.
In fact, the research (or lack thereof) is well defined in this “are there benefits to be gained from placenta consumption” article from Science & Sensibility and although triggered as a reaction to the celebrity interest in placentophagy, it points to a rather disappointing lack of answers.
He’s here. My beautiful baby boy is here.
World, meet Rafferty Blue Hendrix. We call him Raf. Mari calls him Afaty.
Kids. They have no sense of proprietary when it comes to time. Mari is wide awake at 6.30 sharp. Whoosh (who is now nearly 8) never wants to get up. Now number three in our brood is overdue.
This has bit gone down well in the Daddypants household. In fact, the event is about as welcome as a bottom cough in a hot car with no functioning windows.
With another baby due to land any day now we decided it’d be a good idea to create a “breastfeeding box” for Mari containing toys and books that are special and only to be used when Wifepants is feeding our new addition.
This meant going shopping. I hate shopping. I would rather wrestle with an emotionally unstable brown bear wearing sandpaper pants than go shopping.
However, I can’t deny that it was productive (and involved far less chafing) so we came back with a fairy outfit, a doctor’s kit, a magnet pen board and a baby doll. These were all Boo’s choices and although we hoped she’d pick out a baby doll, we were pleasantly surprised with her choice.
We let her play once we got home and she chose to play with the baby. I say play, but…she’s amazed me with her behaviour.
She undressed the baby, swaddled him in his blanket and put him in the crook of her arm, whispering “Shh” as she sat down quietly with him.
That was 3 hours ago. She’s now just fallen asleep with baby still firmly in her embrace. See.
Is it that our genetic code means we’re wired to clasp an infant to our bosom and nourish and protect it? Or could Mari be the product of her upbringing thus far; attachment, co-sleeping and baby wearing is what she knows so is she just projecting that onto what she sees as her baby? She’s still in the id phase so it seems unlikely that she’s aware of herself as a baby and that the baby she has is therefore like her, but I’m open to that as a potential answer.
Whatever the answer, I was totally floored by her response to her doll and felt a huge swell of pride at how tender she was towards it.
I’ve just left her now she’s fast asleep and the baby is still held tight in her arms. My baby, protector and nurturer of her baby.
As I lay here gently soothing you to sleep, I capture the moment and commit it to memory so I can treasure it forever.
I sometimes selfishly wish you didn’t have to grow up. I wish for many things.
That you’d stay this tiny lump of awesome, full of wonder & excitement for everything that you encounter.
That you’ll always be where I can protect you and know you’re safe from harm.
That this warm summer evening would stretch on forever so you stay just as you are right now.
But you can’t stay my little girl forever, and as precious as this time is, I know there’s so much you’ll do in years to come without me beside you. No matter what my wishes may be in this moment, my greatest wish of all is that you’ll grow up strong, confident & bold enough to adventure into the world. You’re already so independent, my little piranha.
So I shake off this reverie and return to the present, safe in the knowledge that this memory, along with the thousands of others you’ve created and will continue to create, will never fade.
Your eyes flutter as sleep slowly descends, a grin appearing as you open one eye and see me grinning back.
And I whisper the same words I do every night:
“I love you all the moons
And all the stars
And all the nighttime sky
And it’s time to do some sleeping.”
Those Bounty packs suck, don’t they? The last thing new parents need is a heap of flyers and promotional junk that neglect to offer any breastfeeding support but are already priming you for formula and weaning with the aid of baby mush.
As a marketing geek, they irritate me. As a parent, they insult me. They reek of hard sell and it’s totally inappropriate to push brands and products onto people at such a momentous and private time.
Step forth the wholly welcome alternative, the Mama Pack.