Call the kidwife!

The baby goats have arrived!

Both mommas, Patches and Pickles, had them on Monday afternoon and evening.  We came home to Patches cleaning up a little girl that must have just been born. 

As I watched Pickles, she just seem to have that miserable pregnant woman in labor look.  I spent the better part of the late afternoon and early evening squatting next to her in their pen.  (I should have gotten a stool because my thighs were killing me the next day.)  We were actually out of town when Patches had her babies last year and missed the whole birthing experience. 

Right as the evening light was dying, her water broke.  It was good thing I wasn’t standing too close let’s just say.  There was a lot of excitement from the kids and Ben.  Flashlights were aimed and video phones kept vigil with the rest of us. 

Phoebe made the comment, “That looks like it really hurts!” each time Pickles let out a loud-mother-in-labor-bellow.  This is why kids should watch something being born so they know what their mothers have gone through.

Pickles has the cutest little boy that looks exactly like her.  I actually got to help pull him out.  All slimy and slippery with steam rising off of him in the cool evening air.  

We have no names yet.  Maybe that’s good, although I doubt it will keep us from getting too attached.
  


So while all the cute and cuddly baby goat part of this experience is the fun part, today I dealt with the down side of farming.  We had noticed that Pickles still had a lot of afterbirth that was hanging from her on Tuesday morning.  And she still seemed to be trying to pass something.  We had checked on her through out Monday night had no other baby showed up. 

Today I spent a lot of time in the goat pen before leaving to get us where we all needed to be but just had the feeling that I needed to go home at lunch.  Much to my dismay there was a stillborn baby goat in the far corner of the pen.  A little girl, identical to her brother.  I moved her her out as I could tell that Pickles was very mopey.  I was worried that she would get too depressed and things wouldn’t go well for the live baby we had.  But by the time I was leaving from my extended lunch hour, she was up eating and baby boy was nursing.  

With life on the farm you also get death on the farm.  Which is just as beneficial for you kids to witness.
  

I didn’t watch the Superbowl but heard a lot about the Dodge truck commercial.  I am by no means the epitome of what the actual farmers of America represent but that one line from Paul Harvey’s speech So God Made a Farmer is echoing in my mind. 

God said, “I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newborn colt. And watch it die. Then dry his eyes and say, ‘Maybe next year.’

I’m not there, but I want to be.

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