If I'd Known It Was Gonna Be Like This, I Would Have Eaten My Placenta

After baby is a swamp of hormones that gets drained and re-filled with completely different levels of hormones and microthings and macrobodies and such, leaving all the goldfish dead in the pond, damnit! Following me? I take zoloft for chronic anxiety. I've been off of it here and there for years at a time, but eventually something stressful overwhelms my obviously dysfunctional brain chemistry and I become a blithering, miserable wreck incapable of functioning. Back on. It works very well for me, with no side effects. I'm lucky. I tapered off during Ever's pregnancy because of the new literature that said it does increase various risk factors for certain birth defects. I tried to get all the way off, but couldn't. Back on. 25 mg.

After ee was born, I was tremendously motivated to stay on the lower dose, but before I could even arrive home I was hit with a tsunami of panic, a humiliatingly aggressive anxiety that engulfed the darkness of my dreams before I could even open my eyes, and continued, picking up pace, relentless and grinding, all day. By the time my sweet husband came home I collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Back up. 100 mg. It took two weeks, but it worked, and I began to come out of the nightmare. I'd never experienced such abject terror after a birth. Depression, mild anxiety, yes. This was different, and considering that the cirumstances of ee's birth were the most supportive and loving of any of my baby homecomings, there was no circumstantial reason for this. Ever was a C-Section delivery, my first, and I have come to believe that the construction of a C-Section is what led to my chemical nightmare. My body didn't make milk for days. That alone is evidence of the powerful ways we tamper with the body's homeostasis when a surgery is necessary for childbirth- and mine was. We elected, last minute final decision, for the CS because ee had been flipping like a seal back and forth up and down the entire third trimester. We'd go in and find her head down, leave relieved, and a week later at the stress test find she had her hard little skull wedged neatly in my right rib cage's cupped skeletal hand. As she was born, I heard a rumbling that grew louder, and as I cried and kissed ee's little face I turned to my husband and asked What is it? He explained to me that ee had had what is called a 'true knot' in her cord. The nurse held it up for a picture, the slimy blue and purple thickened cord tied as a good sailor would, in a perfect bulbous knot, tight enough to stay the storm. It was lucky Ever lived, they said. I'll talk more about that when I do her birthing post.

The morphine and sedatives pumped into your body during a C-Section are incredibly omnipotent, cutting off all communications between your brain and your nerves. This is probably a precarious situation for someone with any issues of the brain, like anxiety. I say probably because I haven't researched any scientific studies- yet- I'm simply discussing my theory here. What I know is that immediately after the surgery, I felt the shadow of the first wave hit my face and bleed down, into my body. In the large, machine crowded room we stayed in afterward, the wave crested and slammed into me, rendering me almost mute. Are you OK, Mr. Curry kept asking me. I nodded. I wanted so badly to be OK. Sometimes wanting a thing enough can create it's existence. Not in this case. I went from bad to worse, and the first day home from the hospital I felt a horror and pain that I imagine is what people feel when someone they love very much dies. A muted, horrible disbelieving terror that erodes with stabs of pure adrenalin fear. My poor baby, I kept thinking, looking at my newborn girl. I was so sorry to be so faulty. I bathed her, I nursed her, I held her round the clock, but inside... There has to be a better way to do this, I thought after the worst had passed.

What a woman puts into her body while nursing is a serious thing, and all kinds of herbs or treatments that may otherwise be available are not when you are breastfeeding. But the placenta, a disgusting, verbotim and mightily powerful thing, is. When I read this post by The Feminist Breeder, it occurred to me that I might have missed the opportunity of a lifetime- to experience the babymoon of my darlings in good mental health. The more I read, the more I was convinced. Consider this:

Your own placenta, made into capsules, is incredibly nutritious and beneficial to you. Women who take their placenta capsules tend to have better postpartum experiences, avoid the baby blues, have an increase in energy, and an increase in milk production. Traditional Chinese Medicine has used placenta for centuries to treat issues such as fatigue and insufficient lactation, and scientific studies have bolstered the use of placenta for these conditions. Using the placenta for your postpartum recovery is a very easy and natural way to help you feel better after the birth. @placenta info



What is considered off the charts weird in American culture might be the way we can stock our bodies with the appropriate building blocks for post partum health. I felt and feel a profound sense of loss that I could not be emotionally and mentally present and intact in the months after ee's birth. While it is more comfortable, trendy and acceptable in modern life to take a pill than eat your guts (as I cannot help but think of it) I'd rather be happy than be acceptable.
What would you do?