A Shift in Goat Birth Patterns: "Caesar the Day"

     I cannot complain for what happened next, after all we've had 8 perfect births in 9 days. Almost forgetting we had 4 more to go, birth 9 set the tone for the morning; birth 10 turned the tide.
     As if my place isn't buzzing enough already, my first meeting of the morning was with a bee keeper to discuss adding hives to the new rows of lavender we're planning for the spring. Mid conversation (with a most colorful character I might add), a worker yells out "Hey, you got another baby!" and I ask the nice man to follow me to the barn.

Shannon w/One of the Twins

    This time it's Stella. Precious little Stella. Born on Mother's Day a year and a half back, Stella (named for my grandmother, Estelle) has been held since birth and is quite frankly, more puppy than pygmy.
     For the past 3 days she's been by my side, stuck like glue watching wide eyed as the other mothers gave birth. (To be honest, she looked downright terrified, looking up after each with her big doe eyes and her poofed out little belly as if to say "I don't think I wanna.... Do I have to?"
     I was a little concerned a) because she's small and b) because she's spoiled. But my concerns were not warranted. Stella did just fine and wound up producing a teeny, tiny little clone of herself that is so cute I can't stand it.
     What was not cute was Pippi in the next stall, writhing in pain. Stella's girl arrived like clockwork --labor less than an hour...Everyone knowing naturally what to do. But Pippi (who I did NOT expect to have a problem) was having problems big time. By the time we got to her, she appeared to have already had her kid. (I'll spare you the detailed "why's" of this, but it was enough to send us searching barn corners for evidence.) Turns out, the kid was still inside her; she was just getting started.
     Unlike the rest, Pippi's labor went on for 2 hours when we grew a bit concerned. By hour 3, her contractions had gone in reverse (i.e. growing longer between not shorter, as is the pattern). Something was definitely wrong; given the amount of time she'd been pushing I felt certain a still birth was transpiring.

Precious Pat and Little Caesar

     My (so called) planned meetings turned into a neighborhood meet-n-greet. My insurance guy got to meet Mr. Bee-keeper. My digital friend out to install a goat cam got to meet the fence dude. Meanwhile, Pat and I were caught in a flurry of back and forth phone calls and google searches. (Pat, my farm hand who happens to raise Nubians, is THE authority on goats, as is his wife who was on the other end of the line, cross checking our options and seeing which vet was closest.)
     Now concerned for Pippi's survival on top of it all, I decide our best odds are getting HER to the vet rather than getting a vet to us, as there might be need for things an OR has that a farm vet might not (like a sterile environment for starters). Pat loads her up. I tend to Stella, hug on the others and pace.
     Two hours later in a text that literally made me cry, Pat writes: "Good call. Little buck--ALIVE! Was breech; would've never made it naturally. Working on mom. Call you soon."
     Moments like these stop me in my tracks. It's become my custom to light a candle I keep on the alter that came with the church. In this case, the candle had been lit all morning. Truly a miracle. Whatever was happening (and Lord knows the cost) we had just experienced answered prayers. Still and so, Pippi wasn't out of the woods yet.
     Another 45 minutes and I read "Comin' home with the family." I shake my head in awe and go in search of another candle.
   

Digital Dave and Shannon

   Meanwhile, of all the days for visits to time out, my 21-year-old niece shows up for our long anticipated holiday/ birthday sleepover before heading back to college. (Oops. I forgot. Now she's 22.) Bless her heart, Shannon's dad got Brentwood genes. Her crazy Aunt Karlen got the farm critter genes, and today those genes were on steroids. But her visit was as divinely timed as the births themselves, after all this was family at its finest...Shannon had a bunch of new cousins to meet and I, on the other hand needed all the help I could get with the feedings. (Because Pippi was knocked out the entire ordeal there was no maternal bonding moment for these two; she needed every ounce of strength for herself, having stopped breathing 4 different times while the doctor worked to get the baby free. Suffice it to say little Caesar's every nursing will come from a bottle, though they were able to milk Pippi while on the table to get the necessary nutrients from mama to baby).

God love you Pat! Couldn't have made it today without you~

     Once again I am reminded "It takes a village" Breathing a huge sigh of relief and hugging everyone in the room, I wash up and start to prepare dinner inviting everyone to stay...This has been one for the record books for sure, and while I got precious little sleep thanks to the 3-hour rotations of bottle-feedings, the exhaustion was well worth the prize of a mama, a baby and a village of friends (both two-legged and four) now centering and celebrating a miracle goat named Caesar (our first C-section baby).