Posts Tagged ‘American Baby’

Lulu chills with her scary peeps.

I love horror movies. I have for as long as I can remember – ever since I was a kid watching Chilly Billy Cardille’s Chiller Theater on late night TV. I especially love the old black and white Universal ones – Frankenstein, Dracula, The Wolf Man – but there are plenty of newer ones that I love too, from The Exorcist to The Ring. (But don’t get me started on splatter or torture movies. They show an alarming lack of imagination.)

This is all a long preamble in order to say that I don’t scare easily. Things that go bump in the night? No big deal. Thrills and chills? Bring them on. But here’s my confession: Babies terrify me. They terrify the sweet bejesus out of me.

I think it’s the fragility. I’m afraid to pick one up, worried that in one brief moment of clumsiness, I might break the baby. (Have I mentioned that I’m a worrier?)

This fear of the wee-est of wee ones was raised to Full Red Alert when I watched Nursery No-No’s featuring friend of the blog and American Baby Magazine’s Senior Lifestyle Editor, Jessica Hartshorn.

I trust Jessica. She knows her stuff. And apparently, on top of all the other stuff I was already worried about, I now have to add these to the list: blankets, pillows, baby monitors, and cribs.

So you’ll forgive me when I say that the most terrifying creatures on the planet are the little peanuts. And my future peanut will be the scariest of them all.


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This blog post is not for the faint of heart. If you’re squeamish, stop reading now. Seriously. Okay, you’ve been warned.

As I’ve documented before here and here, I’m pretty clueless and a bit delicate when it comes to the realities of childbirth. Pregnancy does things to a body, and they’re not always pretty.

(But I *am* looking forward to seeing Gilly in her maternal bloom. That will be beautiful. Seriously.)

I’ve been following American Baby on Facebook for several weeks now. They post good stuff there, and do a great job of engaging their readers. Then they posted this story and I almost vomited in my mouth a little. Then I clicked on the link, and up it came. (Okay, seriously, this is your last chance to turn back.)

A woman pushes a lot of things out of her body during childbirth, and only one of them is a bundle of joy. So why on earth would any mother eat the placenta?

This is a zinnia we grew in our garden. Isn't it pretty? It's much nicer to look at than a placenta. But if you really want to see that instead, click on the image above.

The article states that most mammals eat their placentas after giving birth. I don’t have the science to back me up, but casual observation has also revealed that many animals also eat their own sh*t and vomit.

The article mentions that the placenta is high in iron, vitamins, and hormones. So are a bar of steel, a bunch of broccoli, and a monthly dose of Yaz, but I’d only consider eating one of those things.

Some places will grind it up into pill form for you. Others will serve it with ginger, lemon and a jalapeno pepper.

One woman mentions that it gave her the “wildest rush.” Call me crazy, but when I want a rush, I think all in all I’d rather ride the Thunderbolt, run with the bulls in Pamplona, or take a taxi ride in New Delhi.

If you peer beyond the ick factor, doesn’t this all smack of a wee bit of auto-cannibalism? Should mothers really be setting their inner Hannibal Lecter loose so soon after childbirth?

What’s next in the placenta craze: a cookbook, a restaurant, or a show on Bravo? Because if I see a fried umbilical cord challenge on Top Chef, I think I’m going to lose more than this afternoon’s lunch.

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