I'm Birthing at Home and Eating My Placenta, and I Swear I'm Not Even a Hippy

I’m Birthing at Home and Eating My Placenta, and I Swear I’m Not Even a Hippy

Jan 16th 2011

When I think of hippies, I think of “free spirited” people who wear long skirts, sport patchouli instead of makeup, and maybe pray to a mystical Earth Goddess (instead of the Gods of Capitalism the way most Americans do.) They may have followed the band Phish, spent a good part of their 20′s smoking “herbs”, and only eat food grown on their compound. They don’t like corporations, and will happily spend time making all their own clothes. And I’m willing to bet their record collection contains at least one Ani DiFranco album, along with the entire Bob Dylan and Grateful Dead catalogs.

I have a whole bunch of friends who I consider crunchy hippies, who proudly wear the badge. I admire them and their relaxed way of life, so trust me when I say I’m not implying that there’s anything wrong with being a hippie, that’s just not my bag. I’m not a “free spirit.” I’m an anxious, cranky, Type-A personality whose sarcastic humor resembles more Lewis Black than George Carlin. I don’t like the band Phish. I never wear long skirts. I. Cannot. Sew. I LOVE wearing makeup (preferably the ridiculously expensive kind that I can no longer afford.) And I never did enjoy smoking “herbs.” I also have no talent for gardening, and can think of 100 ways I’d rather spend my time. If I ever ended up a POW, and the enemy was looking for a way to torture me, strapping me to a chair and forcing me to listen to Bob Dylan songs might be one way to go about it. I am a Riot Grrrl – NOT an Indigo Girl.

And in my uninformed youth, I assumed that only the “crunchy hippies” as I described above would do crazy shit like willingly have a baby at home (where there are no drugs???? WHAT?!?!) and willingly ingest their own placenta (Okay, now you’re just being weird for the sake of it – FREAK!)

I used to compare med-free birth to med-free dentistry, as in WHY would anyone get a tooth pulled with no Novocaine? (As it turns out, I learned that having an epidural is nothing at all like getting a shot of Novocaine, and having a baby is in no way comparable to having a tooth pulled out. Whoops!)

And then I started breastfeeding. And then I started cloth diapering. Then, I started making my own baby food. Next, I was wearing my baby. Then, I planted a small (failed) garden with my kids. And then I started planning a homebirth. And to top it all off, I hired someone to encapsulate my placenta — so that I can eat it.

Whoa.

And there is so much cognitive dissonance that comes with traveling this far away from the type of person you *thought* you were, and engaging in the behaviors of someone who you believe belongs to a subculture you don’t fit in with. Then you find yourself questioning everything you thought you knew about your place in the world. “But Gina, okay, wait… if only Hippies have a homebirth, and you’re having a homebirth, then ergo, doesn’t that make you a hippie now? I mean, you ARE cloth diapering your kid! But this cannot be! I could never wear patchouli! Aaaaahhhh! What’s happening to me?!?!”

Well perhaps, just maybe, homebirth isn’t just for hippies? Maybe there’s some good reason that a makeup-and-miniskirt-wearing, Type-A personality would willingly choose to have a baby in fishy pool parked in her living room? And maybe she also has some good reason for taking pills made out of her very own placenta? Maybe none of it has anything to do with being vegan or praying to a Moon Goddess after all?

Well, these are my good reasons:

I’m choosing a med-free water birth in my living room because the safety record of that mode of delivery is both evidenced-based, and supported by science. In fact, a homebirth is the perfect choice for a picky Type-A who likes to control her environment whenever possible. I can have a safe, joyful birth at home that could be far more pleasant than either of my two miserable hospital experiences where the “Novocaine” turned out to be a train wreck and the damn nurses kept me awake all night with their beeping machines. I can push a baby out into a warm bath, with a highly trained Midwife personally safeguarding my experience, as I’m surrounded by people who are all 100% focused on ME. No “free spirit” or Bob Dylan records required.

I’m encapsulating my placenta because scientific research shows that it can have enormous benefits for my health, including reducing my risk for that damned postpartum depression, and helping to boost my milk supply. My Type-A personality prefers to steer clear of mind-altering drugs anyway, so if there’s a way to keep my own feel-good chemicals in my body, then by all means, I will try that way first. And I do NOT have to cut off chunks of this veiny thing and put them in a hippy-dippy kale and beet smoothie. Nope! I can just pop a couple of pills that look like vitamins, which just so happen to contain an organ of mine. No big, hairy deal.

So, in revealing my formerly misguided judgments, my hope is that more “mainstream” women will get hip to the fact that these birthing choices are not reserved for a select group of women who some might think of as “fringe” characters. You don’t have to be a card-carrying hippy to consider having a safer, more natural birthing experience. You don’t have to be “anti-establishment” to consider placentophagy as a way to fight postpartum mood issues. You can still your wear make-up, or business suits, or even stilettos.

And maybe in years to come, women from all walks of life will see homebirth as one of the many legitimate birthing choices available to them. And maybe placenta encapsulation will be prescribed by doctors and paid for by insurance if the average, American woman starts demanding it. And maybe more women will consider cloth diapering and wearing their babies because there are real health benefits to both.

And on that day, maybe I can stop trying to explain to people that, while I do like homebirth, I swear on my life I’m never going to start sewing my own floor length skirts. I’m still a Riot Grrrl, and I’ll always be partial to skin-tight minis.

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*I really hope all my hippie friends can see the humor in this, and not be offended at my verbal caricature of the subculture. I’m just trying to illustrate a point for the masses. Much love for ya, my hippie mama friends!