Tuesday, December 20, 2011

placenta encapsulation comes through

A few days ago I pulled my stash of placenta capsules from the back of the fridge to the front and started taking them daily again.  Though I forgot today and I feel like I've been run over by a truck, repeatedly.  I am so glad I saved enough to get me through the holidays, and maybe her second birthday too if I don't need them all in the next few days.

I'm blogging every day, which means things are tough, tough, tough, and I need an outlet to ease the pressure some.

In the new year - therapy - counseling - it's time.  Though I've said it before, though I've halfheartedly tried to find someone in the past, this time I'm serious.  If I didn't have the capsules I would need some other form of medication, so probably time to work things through.

I hate that I'm somewhat missing Bennett's first Christmas.  I don't like being back here, in the deep, deep grief, when tears come in furious waves with no warning.

In the morning I don't want to get up, but Bennett needs tending, so up I get, to the fridge I shuffle, and thirty or forty minutes after taking the capsules I feel like I'm ready to handle the day, to laugh and play with my baby without feeling breathless with grief.

The breathlessness: I forgot how much my lungs hurt that first year without her. The grief - constant, crushing - made it so hard to breathe and now that it's back I don't know how I let its weight slip from my mind.

While out shopping this morning with my mom and niece a woman cooed over Bennett and then asked, "How old is your daughter?"  And for a split second I thought she meant Charlotte.  I wanted to say, nineteen months!  I can't believe you can see her! but then I blinked and said, oh, that's my niece, and as I turned the stroller away I shook my head, chided myself for thinking she could see someone who is gone, gone, gone.


  1. Oh Angela; I don't understand the depth of your grief, but I do remember the void left after my last miscarriage, and the depression that settles in. But you are right: what ever it is, do something to take care of yourself.

  2. I had a "relapse" of grief when Orrin was around three months as well. I hope it passes for you soon. Lots and lots of love your way. <3

  3. Lovely post, even with the sadness of not having Charlotte here.

    So great that you are taking your placenta pills! If I ever have another (I don't think I will) - I will definitely encapsulate my placenta too. You are an inspiration. :)

  4. Oh Angela, I'm sorry you are feeling this way, it's hard to grieve when you also have to take care of the living. It's hard to balance joy and sorrow.
    And yes, I often wonder why no one else can see Florence with me. x

  5. Christmas was stressful enough without a dead baby in the mix. I am thinking of you so much. In some ways, the second Christmas was harder as I had a live baby like you and it really hit home how much I was missing out.


thank you!


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