I haven’t posted here in a while, a long while actually. There have been things going on in my life that I wasn’t ready to write about; and they were so much the center of brain, I couldn’t seem to tell my story without starting there. I will bring all of that here as I move forward. For now I want to just say that it feels like the universe has been stripping me down to my core, a truly painful experience. But I wrote in my journal recently that I now have a new self image. Over the last few weeks, probably longer, I’ve felt myself building back up piece by piece. I have a new confidence and a new respect for myself, my age, my wisdom, my developing crone-hood.
One of the most significant things I’ve realized in my rebuilding stage is how much my self-confidence as a farmer had dwindled. In recent years the farm has seemed like such an inconvenience, an annoyance even, to my spouse that I began to think of the farm and my own interest in farming as worthless. Farming is not a big money making gig, and in our world the value of anything seems to be based on money, the more the better. I have been living a very frugal life for a while, partly out of necessity but mostly because I just don’t need much. As a result of this new attitude about “need”, I’ve noticed around me the degree to which our economy is based on spending, especially spending money on things we don’t need. Therefore disposable money is king. If money represents value, as a person who is busy all the time working very hard but not making much money, I have felt less valuable.
The new self-image I wrote about in my journal is about the dawning light in my brain that I have built something here to be proud of. I’ve been told this before. A very good friend once visited my farm, looked around and said something like “it’s amazing what you’ve done here and almost single-handedly”. I heard her but it didn’t really sink in. Something about the recent birth of baby goats on my farm brought together all of the rebuilding pieces of my self-respect. At the time, it had seemed like such an average experience. Isn’t everybody interested in being up at one a.m. to encourage a first time mother, petting her, feeding her molasses water for strength and scratching her between the horns because I know she loves it; while she pushes through a very difficult birth with a vagina that isn’t really large enough for what she needs it to do? A friend had come over to help with the birth and keep me company, for which I was grateful. We were with the mama until about three a.m. The second birth was much easier, or at least happened more quickly. We had towels to help her clean up the babies. The first born seemed very fragile. I was almost afraid to pick her up, and I handled her as little as possible until she seemed to gain some strength. The second was bigger and stronger. Slowly they both found their legs and figured out how to stand. We made sure they were up and moving around, helped them find teats. We stayed until mama was up and looking strong enough to care for the babies. When I crawled into bed with chamomile tea and bourbon at 4 a.m., I set my alarm for 7 a.m. as usual because that is just before the sun is up this time of year, and I needed to be back out to feed all the animals and let them out of their shelters. After my own breakfast, I did take a nap.
As I’m getting ready to turn 63 in a couple of months, I am still a work in progress, but I've regained respect for who I am and what I do, regardless of anyone else’s thoughts on the matter.
The new self-image I wrote about in my journal is about the dawning light in my brain that I have built something here to be proud of. I’ve been told this before. A very good friend once visited my farm, looked around and said something like “it’s amazing what you’ve done here and almost single-handedly”. I heard her but it didn’t really sink in. Something about the recent birth of baby goats on my farm brought together all of the rebuilding pieces of my self-respect. At the time, it had seemed like such an average experience. Isn’t everybody interested in being up at one a.m. to encourage a first time mother, petting her, feeding her molasses water for strength and scratching her between the horns because I know she loves it; while she pushes through a very difficult birth with a vagina that isn’t really large enough for what she needs it to do? A friend had come over to help with the birth and keep me company, for which I was grateful. We were with the mama until about three a.m. The second birth was much easier, or at least happened more quickly. We had towels to help her clean up the babies. The first born seemed very fragile. I was almost afraid to pick her up, and I handled her as little as possible until she seemed to gain some strength. The second was bigger and stronger. Slowly they both found their legs and figured out how to stand. We made sure they were up and moving around, helped them find teats. We stayed until mama was up and looking strong enough to care for the babies. When I crawled into bed with chamomile tea and bourbon at 4 a.m., I set my alarm for 7 a.m. as usual because that is just before the sun is up this time of year, and I needed to be back out to feed all the animals and let them out of their shelters. After my own breakfast, I did take a nap.
A friend told me how impressed he was with me after the birthing was done, and my first inclination was to say I didn’t do much. I always say “she did all the work” because I see how hard the mamas are working to push those babies out. My being there is just to encourage her, help her if she needs it. But this time I realized that not everybody wants to do that, not everybody loves what I do like I do. I understood again that what I do has value without money, beyond money, at least to me, and if only to me. As a solo female farmer I am doing something to be proud of. I had lost touch with that feeling.
As I’m getting ready to turn 63 in a couple of months, I am still a work in progress, but I've regained respect for who I am and what I do, regardless of anyone else’s thoughts on the matter.
