I Didn't Eat My Placenta

"There's  something special about kids and their dogs. My kids grew up with a dog  that we all loved very much. His name was Taz. My daughter and Taz were  inseparable, best friends.

As  years went on, Taz grew old and no longer had the energy to play with  my daughter. Instead, he kept a watchful eye on her from the front  porch. A mass developed on his chest that we later learned was bone cancer. With arthritic hips  and advanced age, the best we could do was keep him comfortable.
 

Taz  eventually lost his ability to walk. The pain medications became  ineffective, even at the highest dosage. One night Taz began screaming  and howling in agony. We took him to the vet's office where the vet confirmed that the cancer  had spread to his spine. Taz was suffering.
 

Euthanizing  the family dog was difficult even though we knew we were ending his  pain and suffering. It was especially difficult because my husband and I  had to tell our young children that Taz was going to die. They were comforted by  having the opportunity to say good-bye. They hugged him and gave him  treats. Then they said good-bye one last time.
 

Birth  and death seem like direct opposites; however, they share some  similarities. Birth and death are transitions. When I had my first  child, I transitioned into motherhood. My old sense of self died. Moments after my daughter was  born, I delivered the placenta. I inspected it with my midwife. The  placenta was, in a sense, dying at that moment of my daughter’s birth.  Its job of sustaining my baby’s life while in my womb was complete. I felt a sense of gratitude as I looked at it. I  didn't want to discard such a precious organ as medical waste. It  deserved something better, but I didn't know what. I stored the placenta  in my the deep freezer for safe keeping until I could figure out how to honor it.
 

When  Taz died, we had a short burial ceremony in our backyard. I think by  including our children in the burial ceremony, they were able to  understand death better. My daughter wrote Taz a letter and placed it in the grave with him. Then  I went to the freezer and pulled out my daughter's placenta that had  sustained her life while I carried her in my womb. I placed her placenta  in the grave next to Taz  and whispered, "Job well done."  

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