We are burying Anna’s placenta today.
It will lie beneath a plum tree in our backyard, a few yards from the very spot where she was born.
I have been dreading this day. Which explains why I’ve put it off for 16 months.
The last tangible thing I have from the birth (except Anna, of course) is this placenta. It’s like I don’t want the time to pass; I don’t want to let it go. I want that birth to always be “just the other day” and Anna to be that baby who was just inside me. I want to go back and have that experience all over again.
All day I’ve been tearful, pushing myself through this unexpected and strange sense of grief. Again. While feeling like I’ve done this one hundred times already.
And I’m finding myself thinking how it’s a strange thing to grieve something whose sole purpose was to give life.
I have tremendous admiration and respect for that piece of meat that’s been in my freezer for 16 months. It’s a pretty amazing thing. And as much as I like to look at it sitting in my freezer, it’s time to let it go.
So now I will tend this plum tree with placenta and hopefully eat its fruit year after year. It will grow with Anna, outside the home in which she was born and raised.
I guess that’s something to be happy about.