A few minutes after the birth, the midwives
helped us into our bed. We just glowed holding our brand new baby daughter. About
an hour later, the placenta was birthed and left in a metal bowl for us to
admire. It was still attached to our
baby at this point. One thing I don’t
really understand in hospital births is how quickly they cut the cord after the
birth.
It was good to see the organ that served as the
continual link and filter between my wife and our daughter. I couldn’t believe how beautiful it
looked. The colors were so vivid with
life sustaining veins and arteries adding exquisite texture over the entire
surface. Am I lying?
And the cord was tough to
cut. I’m so glad I got the chance to do
it.
Time moves in funky ways at this point. I don’t know how long we were in our bed
before my wife mentioned needing something to eat. It didn’t feel long, but I went out to
defrost some frozen quiches for us only to find that our house had been
completely altered. Well… not altered,
but cleaned. While in our bedroom we had
heard the midwives bustling about in the house but didn’t really think anything
of it. I walked into a house for which
there was almost no sign of a birth having taken place. The pool had been emptied and removed. The laundry was going. (I don’t know how many
loads were done)
And the midwives were preparing the
placenta. And by preparing I don’t mean
sprinkling with a lemon sauce while sautéing in a skillet. They cut it up into small pill-sized pieces
which my wife has been taking with the rest of her supplements. Lots of studies show ingesting the placenta
reduces post partum. Google it yourself,
I’m not the one who needs convincing.
And side note, human beings are one of the only mammal species on the
planet that doesn’t eat the placenta regularly after birth.
I brought the prepared quiche cakes back to
bed where my wife and daughter were resting comfortably. I settled in beside them and nourished my
wife so she could nourish Von Bebe. Thus
begins the rest of our lives together...
and me trying not to be an ass.
Stay tuned for Act V, the
final installment of my birth story.
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