Last night I processed a placenta for a marvelous family welcoming their second bambini into the world. Mama worked hard, and deserved a restful night cuddling with her babe -- so I headed home to process her placenta.
Amongst the smell of homemade stuffing (that my sister/roommate had roasting in the oven) and the crisp winter-chilled air, I worked and contemplated the power of the placenta. When my evening's work was completed, I retired to bed -- ready for sleep.
While the dehydrator hummed away on the yellow granite countertop through the night, I dreamt of placenta -- this large deep red pillowed cloud which we all rested upon. She fed us, cooed us to sleep; and we rested, sure and still. I could feel her sonorous pulse syncronized with mine, and yours. Softly cradled, we slept.
This morning, as I put the finishing touches on the tincture, salve, and capsules for this mama, I felt the familiar warmth of gratitude sweep through me as I remembered my dream.
