on taking home another placenta

Warning: biohazard

The symbol on the bag does a good job at making you believe that what you are about to open up “poses a serious risk to human health” (the definition of a biohazard).

But the thing I’ve never understood, this being my fourth time bringing home my wife’s placenta after the birth, is how this organ, which is the original life-giving source of every human being who has ever been born, is treated as medical waste by hospitals. What was once the very thing keeping us alive…is now a “serious risk” to that same life.

I contemplate all these things as I hold the dense placenta in my hands, acutely aware that this is as close as it gets to the sacred beginning of life itself.

I notice the veins of this placenta, how they form a most beautiful upside-down tree. I let out a soft “wow” when I see how half of it is a deep red while the other half is a vibrant blue. I slide my finger along one of the veins to see how it feels. I am mesmerized by witnessing the darker blue substance (aka: blood) traveling underneath it, like mercury rising in an old thermometer. It is as if you could see water moving through roots. Without thinking I comment to myself, “the most amazing system.”

I hold up the translucent amniotic sac which held my son secure for nine months. I run my fingers along the inside and feel where his fingers and toes rubbed against. I stretch it out and tug on it, feeling its strength and its natural durability. I spend a moment looking at the blurry form of my finger which is on the other side of the sac, and I imagine our son who was just there yesterday.

Yesterday.

I call out to my wife. “Sweetheart? You’ve got to come see this.”