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.