I was wrong. I have finally been molded and shaped into one of those that can admit it. Story did not in fact give birth that evening on my porch. She being the "sassy little..one" that she is, waited until the most inopportune time. On a mid-Monday. And when I say "mid", I really mean in the midst of the chaos of everything else.
I had just stepped out the door after having gotten cleaned up to run so much needed errands when I heard my father in law, who happens to be visiting from Scotland, say in his thick burley scottish accent, " eh think the wee dull's about reedy" which when translated is, " I think the little doll is about ready". I glanced over, and I'll be darned if he wasn't right, thick accent aside. So I grabbed the towels and gloves and headed straight for her pen.
She wasn't in her manger as expected, in fact she was anywhere but. She started lying beside the fence nearest to the pen gate. Then as I approached, (she has always been the most skittish), she forced herself to move a few steps further. And then finally wedged herself underneath the feed trough, which the next contraction then forced her to nearly gut with as she shot straight up with her beautiful horns.
Her final choice of "birthing locations" was pressed right up against the pen gate. As if she were making an attempt at running away from it all. Poor girl, little did she know that the trauma would simply just go with. At any rate, all the signs were dramatically being displayed in full effect that let me know that birth was eminent. And so we wait.
She was extremely uncomfortable (as one could imagine) and there was nothing else that I could do. A half hour passed, and I began to grow a little concerned. The baby should be here by now. I started doing physical checks. Something just didn't "feel" right. I worried that the baby was backwards in the canal. Me, being me, I was hesitant to call the vet. For various reasons actually. The most prevalent being " I can handle this." I could see that Story was ready for that baby to be OUT! And started to push. But, it seemed almost to be in vain.
This is when I decided a phone call to the vet might not hurt. The vet was busy, I mean, to their credit it was mid day after all. She assured me that she would "be in touch blah blah blah..." I tuned out because I was trying to be as tuned in to Story as possible. Something wasn't right.
I began "helping" and could see a definite hoof. Which could be a good or bad thing depending upon just exactly WHICH hoof it was (front or back). Finally the hoof lead to a nose and cute little tongue, so I knew things were moving in the "right direction" both literally and figuratively. However, the more she pushed, the more apparent it became that there was only 1 hoof.
Maybe you do, maybe you don't know that goats make their debut in the style of "Superman" hooves out in front like they are flying out of that canal. This baby, had the right idea... but somehow got distracted along the way, more than likely saw something shiny... at any rate, it left me begging the question, "Where the F is the other hoof?'
Story clued me in that she too had ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA where it was via the sounds (if you can call them that) that were now coming out of her mouth. Enter "vet call" #2. This one a tad bit more frantic. Which was met with assurance that they were "doing all they could". And, I knew they were, but jumpin' jehosephat! (least offensive phrase that still gets the point across and if not, at least admit you giggled) We are in a bind... more than quite literally.
Story did what she could. The one hoof and baby's head were taking in the world for the first time. However. The sac, the one that keeps them alive in the womb, had broken. So, while this would normally be exactly what you would want to be happening, for the baby to be happily breathing on its own, in our case, was a scene out of some gushy half-chick/half sci-fi movie.
The baby was stuck. Trying to breath air for the first time and also "talking" from half within her mother's womb. Not only was it awkward, but frankly, it was downright gross. However, I knew that we now had only moments to make this work.
I won't lie. At one point I thought that we were going to lose them both. Story gave up on pushing. And her baby, then was slowly being strangled by the very thing that it had grown inside of. I HAD TO DO SOMETHING. And fast. After changing gloves for the millionth time, I was too "sticky" to apply new ones as quick as I would like.. So, ungloved, nearly elbow deep, I dove in, in search of "that other hoof".
I screamed, yelled, tried to "drill sergeant" poor Story into pushing. All to no avail. I was literally watching them both die. Until, she stood up. AND finally, gave me the much needed slack with which to dislodge the hoof from behind poor Story's hip bone. And, out the baby came. AMEN!
I was sure that at the very least, I had broken the baby's leg. The most concerning however, was what I could have internally inflicted upon poor Story. I called the vet again. They were already in route due to the nature of the previous call. SO, I will now just cut to the chase.
The baby, is amazingly fine. AND Story, was cleared just this morning for any internal tears.
So I will excitedly announce, It's a GIRL!!!" And her name is Page. Because, you can't have a Story without a Page. And this was most definitely a story....
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