The Rose Bush of Wallone

I came across an interesting tale about the connectedness between the placenta and the person it nourished in the womb in a book called, Placenta: The Gift of Life by Cornelia Enning (available at www.midwiferytoday.com). It's a wonderful book full of information and history of placenta uses. 

The tale is called the "The Rose Bush of Wallone"

   Once upon a time in Wallone, a district of Belgium, a young woman gave birth to a son.  Her husband planted a rose bush in front of their house, as generations had done before.  He buried the boy's afterbirth under the bush.  The rose bush took root, nurtured by the afterbirth like the son had once been.  Being carefully nursed by the parents, the little rose bush grew up to a magnificent tree and burst into full bloom.  At the same time the son became a strong, young man.
  One day he left his family and stepped into the wide world.  He instructed his mother to not worry about his traveling as a salesman in foreign countries.  As long as his rose tree had green leaves and red blossoms, he would thrive as well.
  His mother nursed and cared for the rose bush, enjoying the blooming roses every year.  One morning, when she was about to nurse her roses, her blood ran cold: All of the roses had dried out and the leaves had fallen off during the night.  There was no life in the rose bush!  Now she knew that her son had had a great misfortune.
   The poor woman was carried, crying, into her house and put to bed to rest.  For three days and nights she shed floods of tears, when finally a messenger arrived.  He shared the bad news of her son's misfortune: Thieves had ambushed and murdered him in the dark of the night.
   Mourning her son, the old woman broke off the dried branch of the dead rose bush.  As her son was buried, she put the branch below his feet.
   In time new life came into the dried branch.  United again with his "milkbrother" the rose bush grew new roots.  The next spring tender buds sprouted above the ground and the following summer the bush brought splendor above the ground of flaming red roses.  Since then - year in and year out - a flood of red roses grow from the graves of Wallone.