Cereza kidded yesterday afternoon with one dear little doeling. I've seen several bizarre obstetrical emergencies involving goats---way more than the national average. I've no idea why. But its made me a bit jumpy with regard to pregnant goats. R and I were suspicious Cereza was in labor all day, but we weren't certain. Its difficult to be certain. Come to think of it, I was in labor with R all day yet uncertain of it until the midwives told me I was 7 cms dilated. So its no wonder we weren't sure about the goat.
I wanted to keep a close eye on Cereza but not disturb her. So I laid down in the hay in the barn, near her. She was laying down too. And I think we both fell asleep. That may have been the sweetest nap I've ever taken---in a warm breezy barn full of fresh hay with a quietly laboring mother. Labor didn't truly heat up until she started actively pushing about dinner time. R and I got to watch the whole birth and I don't think I drew a breath for the duration. I actually found myself thinking an episiotomy might be necessary. Which is absurd, of course. Episiotomies are the second most common obstetrical blunder in all of history. The first being a failure to wash hands. Cereza was as miraculously stretchy as all women are and her baby was born with no help and no trouble. And both are happy today.
We are thinking of calling Clove's baby girl, Clover. It suits her somehow:
I know next to nothing about birth except for a few animals and my own two, but it feels like a moment suspended - between life and death - a transition, precarious in nature because it is a birthing, a bursting to life, a change of state...which is all to say I can only imagine the way one walks with fear and courage through that scrim, that curtain. How very sweet to sleep, body trusting, while the shift unfolded. And how normal to consider emergency intervention. Thanks for the experience, even a tiny taste. xo
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