Birthing

As most of you know, we had our first birth at Corn Creek Farm on Friday, February 28 at 2:30 am with the temperature in the low 30s.  I hope I never forget the experience because it was amazing. Two nights in a row I set my alarm for 2 am to get up and check on the soon-to-be mama, Dena, because I knew she was close. A friend asked, "is that the magic hour for birth?' It was just the time I picked between checking on her just before bed and again at day break. The second night she was in labor when I got to her. I sat with her and talked to her, petting her as she groaned and pushed and rested long enough to start again. I don't know if it helped her any, but I felt better for it.

I felt privileged to get there in time to go through the experience with her. My Dena has gone from being completely afraid for anyone to touch her (when we got her at 6 weeks old) to allowing me to pet her sometimes and even scratch her neck and head from time to time. She still doesn't like for me to grab her collar, because it usually means being led to do something she isn't ready to do (it might even be something she usually likes, but she hates to forced to do anything and I can relate). This night she seemed comfortable having me there, looking up at me when she was resting between contractions. She lay still and never resisted my attention.

Joan was still sleeping. Our arrangement was that she would keep her phone beside her so I could wake her if something happened. I waited until the first little body came sliding out before I sent her a text saying "we've got one". I had one towel that I'd taken with me and the birthing emergency kit I'd left in Dena's kidding stall. I wrapped the mucus covered baby in a towel and moved him close to Dena's head so she and I could work on cleaning him up. She did her part, and I helped as I could with the towel. Joan brought more towels and some hot tea (for me) and water. She got there in time to see the first kid all cleaned up and cute. Interestingly, both Joan and I instinctively referred to the first kid as "he" even though we'd hoped for 2 doelings. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't stop using the male pronoun. Our lack of experience with new born goats made it difficult for us to confidently discern gender, so it wasn't until the next day when I saw him pee that I knew he was a boy, and that our instincts had been right from the beginning.

We cooed and cuddled the new life in our arms, passing him back and forth to clean towels. When Dena began to push again, Joan went back to the house for more towels and my camera. As was her preference, she missed the messiest parts. When the second slimy life slid out of Dena's hind end, I did the same thing over again. Putting the first on a towel next to his mama, I wrapped newcomer in a fresh towel and moved her to where Dena could reach to clean her up. Again Dena was up to the task and licked her baby clean as I toweled her dry where I could. Joan got back in time to admire the second tiny, delicate life mostly wiped clean. We recognized the afterbirth when it emerged and knew there only two. She sat with me for a while because it's hard to leave so much cuteness, even in the middle of the night in sub-freezing conditions.

I wanted to make sure they were all going to be okay on such a cold night so, when Joan went back to bed, I stayed long enough to make sure the babies were dry and Dena was strong enough to keep them warm. She stood, with the blood ball hanging from her rear, to let the babies nurse, and I dutifully snapped pictures. I knew they would all be okay when I saw the babies nursing and standing up on their own. It takes a surprisingly short period of time for them to be able to stand and move around. When I went back to bed myself, they were all lying down, huddled together to keep warm. Walking back to the house, I was surprised that I had not really felt cold the whole time I was there.

The next morning I had to do my usual morning chores for the chickens, ducks and guineas as well as milking Daisy and feeding all the goats. Afterward I spent as much time as I could allow myself sitting with the babies to watch them walk and run and jump as they got used to their legs and figured out what they could do. I couldn't resist picking them up to hold them, but I put them down again, because watching them was fascinating.

I had to go to my part time job the day the babies were born. But I went in late and everyone understood. Leaving them at home was one of the hardest things I've done. I made sure Joan sent me a text when she got home to assure me they were all still doing well. I felt like a new mom, excited and worried all at the same time.

That was 4 weeks ago and they have grown incredibly fast. The girl can't seem to be still, and some time soon we will have to teach her not to jump on our backs since, so far, we've been encouraging it. I already have an appointment to have the boy neutered next week because we can't have him knocking up his sister or his mother, and we are keeping him. We knew we would be keeping the first babies born here. We hoped we would have two girls to put into the milking rotation Luckily one was a girl. She will be old enough to breed in a year. His only other option is to be sold for meat (yes, there's a chance someone would buy him to be a pet, but most likely he would be meat), so we are keeping him as a pet. She is Quinta, because she is our 5th goat and because she has Spock eyebrows (named for Zachary Quinto who played the younger Spock). He is Paco, because I think it suits him and it keeps the theme of Spanish names going.