My first thought when I met my friend at my front door, 5 days after her giving birth, was ‘What a bloody champion’. My second was ‘Jesus, what is that smell?’
She floated on in, serene, unflustered, not even laden down with the requisite baby bag chock full of mini nappies and baby wipes. Nope, it was just her, her beautiful new baby, Vincent, and what appeared to be some steak in her hand. Which was weird because she’s a vegetarian.
She must have seen me looking and by way of explanation said, “Oh, I’m just in the area grabbing something for dinner tonight.” That’s when I offered to put the meat in the fridge for her. “Meat?” she looked at me, perplexed. Meanwhile, baby Vincent serenely slept against her chest in one of those baby hammocks I could never quite master.
“The meat, in your hand.” I pointed to what appeared to be raw meat wrapped in baking paper and cling wrap. My friend just smiled at me and said, “Oh, what this?” holding up the purplish/grey lump. “Oh, no, no this isn’t dinner, this is Vincent’s placenta.”
Say What Now?
I’ve got to hand it to her though, clearly this wasn’t the first time she’d had this conversation. In fact, she carried on as if it wasn’t even a thing. UM, YES it’s definitely a thing lady, back right up and tell me why you are holding your son’s placenta, which upon closer inspection, was still ATTACHED TO HIS BODY.
Faith* asked me, “Do you want to hold him?” Errrmm, okay, sure. That’s when I’m pretty sure that my attempt at being cool completely crumbled. I mean, to be fair, I think I was allowed to be both shocked and curious when she handed me this beautiful baby and then simultaneously placed a festering piece of wrapped grey flesh beside me on the kitchen counter.