Why Women Today Are Eating Their Own Placentas
January Jones ate hers, so why shouldn't you?
In the crunchy-mama circles I happily move in, for years I've heard of women who eat their own placenta—the blood-rich organ that connects an unborn baby to its mother's blood supply—after giving birth, usually in the form of freeze-dried capsules. Placenta-eating, or "placentophagy," is touted by natural-health advocates for supposedly preventing postpartum depression, replacing nutrients that are lost during childbirth, and ensuring a good supply of breastmilk. The practice hit the headlines when Mad Men star Jones admitted to People magazine that she had eaten hers after the birth of her son, Xander.
Critics of placentophagy—including Nancy Redd, who wrote about it for the New York Times's Motherlode blog—say that stories of successful placentophagy are "as anecdotal, and in my case as absurdly off beam, as alien sightings." In her post "I Regret Eating My Placenta," Redd said that after she ingested her dried, encapsulated placenta, she felt "jittery and weird," then entered "tabloid-worthy meltdown mode, a frightening phase filled with tears and rage."
Not to mention that most people think it's just gross.
Jones defended the practice to The Telegraph, noting that "we're the only mammals who don't ingest our own placentas." Her statement isn't quite accurate. Pharmaceutical uses of placentas go back at least to Hippocrates, and appear in traditional Chinese medicines and European folk remedies. Indigenous people in Brazil reportedly cooked and ate the placenta; for centuries throughout Europe, eating the placenta was thought to encourage milk production and help cure infertility. At some point in Europe, attitudes toward the placenta changed, and it came to be regarded with disgust by doctors and churchmen (who, for some reason, really stressed over what Adam and Eve had done with Cain's placenta). Eventually their disgust was shared by everyone; one historian notes that country women didn't even like to see their brooding hens eat the cast-off eggshells, so they'd take them away and hide them.
But even as medicinal uses for placentas faded in Europe, placental significance didn't disappear entirely. A historian in Northern Italy noted that traditional midwives were disgusted by the modern practice of discarding placentas as if they were nothing but waste. Midwives in this region believed that the placenta deserved to be given a respectful burial in the garden. (If nothing else, noted an old midwife, burying the placenta was a "good way to get rid of the husband for an hour" so she could wash the baby and the woman.) Feelings were similar in France and in Germany, notes another historian; it was felt that the placenta, being somehow "a double of the child," couldn't be neglected, and was in those countries usually buried at the foot of a tree.
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Rahab
Janice, I agree that the older women are to support the younger. But here on this site (as so often in the church) the writing and thinking of older women is barely present. If you glance through the list of writers to the left of this page and then read their bios you see that the gifts of age are almost entirely absent. Ditto for the gifts of diverse cultural and ethnic experiences. This is a venue for the thinking of young, white women. Which is no doubt why there is such unholy contention in so many of the comments, and why the authors are so wounded by them. Robyn, I'm so very sorry that you and your family had to go through such loneliness and pain at a time when you should have been surrounded by joyful caring. The obvious answer to your question, "How are we the body of Christ when we don't even take care of one another..." is, we are not. I love your conclusion of OFFERING help. It's full of forgiveness and forbearance and all the other signs of Christ's love. Beautiful!
Emily
My midwife offered to do placenta encapsulation and I was a bit skeptical but decided to try it. My youngest is 6 months old and I can tell a marked difference (so can my husband) if I forget to take my placenta pills. I can only speak from personal experience that these pills have truly helped stabilize my hormones and make me feel "normal." My husband calls them my "happy pills." I agree with Robyn, that people seem to get their knickers in a bind over issues that are not "right or wrong" just personal. If you don't want to eat your placenta, that's cool with me. Mine has helped me be a more balanced, level-headed mommy for my children and wife for my husband.
Janice Yeager
As a Believer in her mid-fifties who has at various points in my life been : wife, nursing mom x 3 (before the days of family/friend/community/healthcare support), nana, maternal-child nurse/childbirth educator/lactation consultant etc...I find it interesting that, as Christian women, we continue to debate with/ disenfranchise / compare ourselves to and/or blame each other for decisions that are personal and neither discussed in or supported/refuted by the Word. What is discussed/supported is the fact that we older women are to help the younger ones (Titus 2:3-5). Let's quit "arguing" whose "right and wrong" and instead spend that energy supporting, encouraging, and uplifting one another in the Body of Christ.
Robyn Widmer
I had my son's placenta encapsulated and ingested the pills. I don't care what other people think of it. They are free to think it's "gross" or "icky." *Shrug* I do have a problem when people who judge someone for doing it. It's no one's business but my own. I knew there was no research supporting or disproving the health benefits, and it certainly did not prevent my severe ppd (which ended up requiring hospitalization) nor did I expect it to. It was simply something that I wanted to do because it was meaningful to me. End of story. I do wish that giving birth was a community event. I had ZERO support once I was about a week postpartum. I had to give up breastfeeding because there was no one to help me. I had ONE friend bring a meal, and NO ONE from the church we used to attend did ANYTHING for us. No wonder I ended up so overwhelmed and depressed that I simply had a mental breakdown. I know that doesn't happen to every mom, but I really believe I might have been spared the experience had someone cared more than they obviously did (besides my husband). One of the things I learned in therapy was that I need to ask for help. That's true, and something that it is very difficult for me to do. But the other thing I've learned is that I should OFFER help, because many people have the same difficulty I do in asking. Perhaps that is a lesson for us all. How are we the Body of Christ when we don't even take care of one another during the times when we need one another the most?
Robyn Widmer
I had my son's placenta encapsulated and ingested the pills. I don't care what other people think of it. They are free to think it's "gross." *Shrug* I do have a problem when people who judge someone for doing it. It's no one's business but my own. I knew there was no research supporting or disproving the health benefits, and it certainly did not prevent my severe ppd (which ended up requiring hospitalization) nor did I expect it to. It was simply something that I wanted to do because it was meaningful to me. End of story. I do wish that giving birth was a community event. I had ZERO support once I was about a week postpartum. I had to give up breastfeeding because there was no one to help me. I had ONE friend bring a meal, and NO ONE from the church we used to attend did ANYTHING for us. No wonder I ended up so overwhelmed and depressed that I simply had a mental breakdown. I know that doesn't happen to every mom, but I really believe I might have been spared the experience had someone cared more than they obviously did (besides my husband who was at a complete loss for what to do for me). One of the things I learned in therapy was that I need to ask for help. That's true, and something that it is very difficult for me to do. But the other thing I've learned is that I should OFFER help, because many people have the same difficulty I do in asking. Perhaps that is a lesson for us all. How are we the Body of Christ when we don't even take care of one another during the times when we need one another the most?
Lucie Winborne
Candi, don't give anyone any ideas!
Candi
I can just see it now, a new reality show called "Placenta Eaters." Gross. Count me out.
Tim
Rachel, I really liked how you put this question: "So, what are we really trying to feed when we contemplate eating placentas?" Change the wording slightly and that can apply to so many ways we try to satisfy various longings and hungers. It's a good question to reflect on. Tim P.S. I never thought I'd read the phrase "placental significance." My life is now complete.
TM Reddin
Thank you for the article and even the comments following weren't bad. I am one of those crazy people that had my placenta encapsulized and recently (November). Admittedly, I didn't do the research and just went with the recommendation of my midwife. Also my friend did it (so, I'm a crowd-follower. I already know this). How, you might ask, could I swallow such a pill, when at the first suggestion (3 months pregnant) it was abhorrent to me? I had the thought it would be like consuming liver 'n onions (yuck). Well, the midwife mentioned the ease of post-partum emotions, lactation enhancement, and other organs getting back to normal more quickly. I was already worried about high blood pressure b/c after baby 4 I had to be hospitalized for dangerously HBP. Also, my husband said he was ok with it. So, you see, I was surrounded by people who supported the idea (I didn't tell my mom, though :). I would like to report glorious benefits of consuming the placenta, but I can't. It may have helped some, esp. with emotions but not the HBP. Would I do it again? I don't know. But it is not abhorrent to me now either. I would have rather have had a nice juicy steak with a tad speck of red shared with friends rejoicing over this baby's safe delivery into our arms. :)
Rahab
During the 60s placentaphagy was actually common in commune communities in the U.S., where midwives (or simply other community members) delivered babies within the confines of the group home. And exactly as Rachel suggests, the significance of the meal was community-centered and celebratory, a sharing of something fundamental and life-giving. Recipes were shared by word of mouth and could also be found in books. I remember one that involved chopping and sauteing with onions and tomatoes harvested fresh from the community garden. While mother and baby rested close by, others in the community prepared this special meal and joined the new mom in consuming it. To think of platentaphagy as startling or unappealing is understandable, but to think of it as gross is perhaps to fail to enter into the meaning and experience of those who practiced it. In that period the institutional church had closed itself off to the longings of young people -- including young Christians -- for real community, and instead of spearheading the movement toward inclusion and authentic love, they retreated in fear of the implications of openness and engagement. Their knee-jerk response to all of it was to frame it as "gross" and even sinful. Right or wrong, appealing or repulsive, Rachel's analysis of placentaphagy offers us an opportunity to open our hearts and identify with that longing for community that should be at the very heart of our churches, and is still so sadly in short supply. Thank you, Rachel.
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