I’ve been a bad, bad blogger.
Forgive me, dear readers, for I have sinned. It’s been 12 days since my last post. I know what you are thinking: “What could be more important than providing highly entertaining posts for my mom all my thousands of loyal readers on a daily basis?” I won’t try to come up with excuses, although I have some pretty good ones, like being on deadline with articles and editing, two board meetings, school meetings, accidentally deleting a brilliantly funny post that I did not have time to rewrite, and planning Kaya’s 3rd birthday party.
But you can put away the violins and tissues. I am finally coming up for air. Last night, I finished cleaning up the house after having 15 kids and 20 adults over to our house for the princess birthday party. I think we set a record with 12 kids on the trampoline at one time. Visions of lawsuits flashed through my head, but luckily no child was harmed during the jumping, except for the usual scrapes and bruises. And Siig looked absolutely ravishing dressed as a fairy princess.
But not that’s what I want to tell you.
Why I’ve really gathered you all here today is to talk about something else. My freezer. Or more specifically, what’s in my freezer. I bring this up now because the party is over and if I had talked about this before, no one would have come over.
Wrapped in plastic bags and tin foil, and sitting underneath boxes of frozen pizza and peas and blueberries and a bottle of vodka, is Kaya’s placenta. That’s right, you heard me correctly. What nourished her for nine months while she was growing in my womb is now a silver blob of freezer burn.
The original intention was to plant a tree with the placenta in honor of Kaya’s birth, which was a victory of sorts for me. After having a c-section with Kaiden, I wanted to reclaim my power. Kaya was born at home in a tub of water, a beautiful, sacred experience.
And now, three years later, I have an organ that resembles an uncooked steak sitting at the bottom of my freezer.
Before you write me off as some earth-loving, neo-hippie woman (which wouldn’t be a total insult), I’ll have you know I never planned on doing anything too far out like making placenta tea or placenta prints. I just wanted to be able to look out of my house and see a beautiful Aspen tree, a reminder of that wonderful, healing day when Kaya came into the world.
But as the saying goes, “The cobblers’ children have no shoes.” And thus, as the wife of a landscaper, it is near impossible to get Siig to find the time to plant trees at our house. In other words, the landscaper’s child has no placenta tree.
So, another year goes by, and the placenta sits silently at the bottom of our freezer, waiting to be remembered and given a proper burial.
It was ironic, then, that on Kaya’s birthday my mom called from her house down the street. She wanted to know what we wanted her to do with the bag of Siig’s blood she just found in her freezer. (Siig used to have to give a pint of blood every two months because we thought he had a blood condition called polycythemia, where his body produces too many red blood cells, but two years ago we went to an expert who told us he doesn’t have it. I’ll save the details for another story.) One time after giving blood, Siig had the bright idea of saving the bag of fluid to put in his landscapes to help plants grow. So he put it in my mom’s freezer, because at the time we were living there while we remodeled our house. That was in 2007.
So here we are, in 2009, with a two-year old bag of blood in my mom’s icebox and a three-year old placenta in ours.
If we ever lose electricity, we are totally screwed.
Note: Irony of all ironies – we actually lost electricity the day after I wrote this due to a big storm. In my whole neighborhood, so that included my mom’s house. Good news: power was out for only a couple of hours. So you can breath a sigh of relief. We do not have thawing placenta dripping out of our freezer.