Bass-Ackwards

I have a story for you today--a nice one.  For a change, I'm going to start at the end and go back to the beginning.  Just to shake things up.

_____________________________

So long story short, I have this to say in summation:

• For all the times I said "Don't do it in the dirt", she did it in the dirt, just like I thought she might.
• The days when I need help the most are always the days there's no help to be found.
• I am grateful that it was not exactly the same time I had to pick my kids up from camp, even though it was close enough to make my life difficult, and at least the soap got poured beforehand.
• Thank goodness that the will to live is strong, or this story would have a very different ending.
• If I were a drinker, I would be hitting the bottle about now.

--------------
The day started off very early--3:30 in the morning, to be exact.  I woke up, and didn't know why.  Figuring it was Lilly making noise, who is pretty overdue and behind my head in the garage so I can hear her, I guessed that maybe she was maaing and in labor, and I heard it in my sleep and it woke me.  It turned out to be none of that.   She was in the garage in her pen, standing up and contracting, as she really has been doing on and off for a few days.  But there was no progress there, and she hadn't made a peep.  I have no idea what woke me up.

I went back to sleep as best I could, since I have a major case of poison ivy, and the itching really gets fun and itchy early in the morning.  Luckily, I fell back asleep after combating the scratchies with another round of products that sort of work, and woke up at 5 as normal, but this time, hit the snooze a few too many times.

After gathering all the milking things, I went out to feed Olive and Amelia and check on Lilly.  She was still standing there, doing exactly what she's been doing for days--not much.  I fed the littles, released Lilly from her "cage", and brought her out to the pen.  Fed all the piranhas, milked Minerva, and finished the rest of the feeding chores.  Went inside, puttered, drank coffee, got things ready to make cheese, went out and checked on Lilly.

The pattern to my days has been pretty much this:  do stuff, then check Lilly.  Do something else, then check Lilly.  Do something even more, and check Lilly.  Go somewhere and come back quickly, so I can check Lilly.   Yep, it's getting old.  But that was the morning for me anyway--kind of same old, same old.  The only difference was that my husband, who works from home, was in NJ today, and my kids were at camp this morning, so I was by myself.  My parents live nearby, but when I spoke to them, they were across  the river and not coming back.  So I was definitely alone, which pretty much clinched that Lilly would have her babies today.  When I went out to check Lilly one time, she had a string of goob coming out.  That was nice, but it was opaque goob, not clear goob.  So, labor looked like it was a way off.  I figured I was safe, and maybe people would be around by the time she got to it, so I amused myself by trying to make some cheese.  Then I checked Lilly.  She was doing what she has been doing for a while--not much.  No more goob, so I went inside and made some goat's milk soap.  As I'm pouring the soap, Minerva is screaming bloody blue murder.  This is nothing new.  She does that when she thinks it's time to be milked, which is every hour on the hour.  The girl likes her grain.  Since Lilly has been overdue, I've gone running to see what it is she's yelling about, and it's nothing, just her normal wanting to be milked. 

So Minerva is screaming bloody blue murder, and I'm scraping the soap pan, and I think to myself "I really should go check on that, even though it's probably nothing".  So I do.  I count heads.  Minerva--check, obviously.  Cynthia--check.  Dulcinea--check.  Stewart--yodeling.  Max--check.  Amelia--check.  Olive--check.  Lilly-------ummmm----where's Lilly?

Where Lilly was, was laying in the DIRT in the back of the pen.  She didn't get up when I went to the fence.  That's not good.  I opened the gate and ran.  And there, right behind her butt, was a sack of baby.  The sack was not warm anymore--not fresh out of the goat hot, if you know what I mean.  It'd been there a little while.  Cursing loudly, and figuring I'd lost one, I bent down to pick up the little sack of goat.  And it breathed, just a little bit.

Cursing louder and ranting at Lilly for having her babies in the DIRT where I had been telling her NOT to, I ripped that sac open in a flash.  I had no towels.  I had no snot-sucker.  I had nothing--everything was inside in the PEN she was SUPPOSED to have her babies in.  Set up beautifully, I might add.  I cleaned off the little one's face as best I could.  I used my shirt, my shorts, anything to get that slippery goo off.  But still, only a breath or two would come.  I worked quick--I put my fingers in the little one's mouth and pulled out what I could.  Still one breath--not enough.  I figured on drastic measures.  I picked that baby up by the back feet and swung it back and forth.  Two good swings and out came the mucous on the upswing--a whole nice gob of it.  And the baby breathed and finally--finally--shook it's head.

I took the second I had to run like a wild thing into the garage with the baby and get the towels and the stuff I needed, like the snot-sucker, which I have found is crucial to giving birth.  I get back as fast as I can, sit down, and try to figure out what I'm seeing.  Do I have to cut the umbilical cord?  How much more mucous do I have to pull out of the little one's mouth?  What the hell is it, anyway, boy or girl?  All while trying to towel dry off the little shivering pupkin, Lilly began to push.  Except that she was pushing with her knees on the ground and her ass in the air.  She tried that for a minute or two, realized it wasn't going to work, and finally layed down.  And there was the bubble, then the feet and the nose.  Thank goodness it was positioned correctly.  I put my hands on that one and pulled with her contraction.  I popped that bubble quick as a wink and went at it with the snot-sucker.  At that point, the first baby ( a boy!) was trying to stand up and was already sucking my elbow.  And of course, the entire herd was there, Amelia was jumping on my back because it's fun, Minerva had her face in my bag of stuff, and everyone else was sniffing and biting on the pads I had put down to try to keep the babies clean (ha ha).

Lilly giving birth in the dirt

 

 

Unwanted audience participation.  Minerva's head was in my bag of birthing stuff.

So helpful.  Reminding everyone that audience participation was not necessary or even wanted, and again cursing Lilly for not doing this in the PEN I had set up for her, I scrubbed that new baby with a towel to dry (her!) off.  The little boy was trying to stand and was still sucking anything he could.  The little girl came around quickly, since she wasn't stuck in a sack for a while, and was also trying to stand.  I got out the Bo-Se, shot them in the butts (after taking the syringe packet out of Minerva's mouth), and scrubbed all the goo off.  Then I got to look them over.  They look like Stewart.  See?

Boy and girl.  The girl is the one with the frosted ears.  Anyway, by this time, I wanted to get the family in the pen and get a bottle into those babies.  I brought the babies out and put them away, came back for Lilly, and had to DRAG her into the pen-- Lilly hates being taken around by the collar.  Of course, the other goats had busted through the gate to the pasture, so I fought them off while trying to push Lilly through the gate to the outside.  I succeeded in getting her out--as well as Minerva, which I did not want.  However, I ignored Minerva, who was jumping up on the milking stand, waiting for her milking, settled Lilly in (whose placenta bits were hanging out of her rear, I might add), and rushed inside to make a couple of little bottles.  Got back to the pen, put the bottles down, and grabbed Minerva to bring her back to her yard.  Narrowly stopped a Stewart escape, and finally went into the pen myself to spend a bit of time teaching the babies how to suckle.

Then it was nearly time to pick up the kids from camp, and I really couldn't leave.  But no one was around to help.  The placenta bits were hanging out of Lilly's rear, and the babies still needed to eat.  Oh--and now Olive and Amelia were past their mealtime and were letting me know all about it.  Their little party horn voices rang out loud and clear and insisted on feeding. 

So I did.  Running everywhere, I got the girls' bottles ready and down the hatch to quiet them down.  Then I got a tiny bit more bottle into the two new babies, and had to lock up to leave.  I drove to camp way too fast, on no gas, because oops!  I forgot I had to fill up.  Luckily, I had sped so much I had enough time to do so right before pick up.  If I hadn't, I would have been pushing the car.  I got my kids, got back in the car and sped home.  Quick like a wink, back in the pen, checking things out and feeding babies.  I helped Lilly expel the placenta, which took a while, since she was un-motivated.  But finally I was done.  The babies were up and dry and fed.  Mama had gotten the placenta out and was falling asleep standing up.   Minerva was yelling at the injustice of not being milked when SHE wanted it, and Stewart was yodeling at the nerve of me taking one of his girls away.  I could finally walk away and get on with the day. 

So long story short, I have this to say in summation:

• For all the times I said "Don't do it in the dirt", she did it in the dirt, just like I thought she might.
• The days when I need help the most are always the days there's no help to be found.
• I am grateful that it was not exactly the same time I had to pick my kids up from camp, even though it was close enough to make my life difficult, and at least the soap got poured beforehand.
• Thank goodness that the will to live is strong, or this story would have a very different ending.
• If I were a drinker, I would be hitting the bottle about now.

The End