When I was single, I had a sister and many female friends and I thought I was fairly well aware of the issues that women faced. I was horribly mistaken, and once I got married I learned just how many mysteries of femininity are systematically hidden from guys. As if to add insult to injury, my wife regularly asked me questions that were so unexpected that they left me somewhat stunned.
But then, my wife started talking about having children and the unexpected-question quotient went to an all-time high and those unexpected questions got out there. Questions about water retention, birth control, nutrition, emotions, whether we should homeschool, whether super spicy burritos may induce labour, etc. (you know, the types of questions that guys talk about while they’re chatting around a barbeque). I was searching desperately through the Bible for help on some of those questions (when it seemed appropriate), and many times I was tossed a question that I was utterly unprepared for. One night, after she had been reading a tsunami of stuff, she gave me the look and the “honey, can we talk?” The look told me it was time to sit down, so I sat down and she shared that she had been reading about a new practice that was somewhat growing in popularity, and I simply couldn’t believe it: eating one’s placenta.
That’s right. Eating the other thing that emerges with a baby. Continue reading