It was the best of days… it was the worst of days… nope, scratch that… it was pretty much just the worst of days! In labor with twins for just over 48 hours… yup that’s pretty much the worst of days… and nights!
It’s been five long months since that rendezvous under the hickory tree with the ever romantic (and half my age!) Mike. I was supposed to be swept away by Sir Sebastian but Mike made his way to me under a full moon and hooting owls… the sparks were too hard to ignore and Sebastian was too busy munching hay to take much notice.
Fast forward five months and I am a huge hippo of a doe, ten times my usually petite and smokin’ hot self and just feeling cranky. If hooves could swell mine would have been swollen. I developed an odd craving for tree bark and stripped every tree in my paddock. YUM!
The farmer lady became quite interested in my developing udder about two weeks ago and kept promising, “It won’t be long now.” Really? How does she know that. Last time I checked she did not go to veterinary school and if I see her pull that Goat Medicine book out one more time to look something up I’m going to pee all over it, throw it in the fire pit and dance on its ashes.
Look at the book… poke and prod at me. Look at the book again, feel my tummy. Book check, pry open my mouth and look at my gums. Fantastic book, pulling my eyelids all over the place muttering, “Very nice, just as they should be.” Yes, lady, they are eyes, of course they are where they should be… on my head. STOP TOUCHING ME! And while we are at it… if my tail is down it means I don’t want you looking at my behind. It is not an invitation to lift my tail up and take long creepy stare downs at my nether regions… QUIT IT!
So I knew something was starting when I began getting some pains in my sides and lost my appetite Sunday afternoon. The farmer lady checked me over and fussed over me for quite a while. Admittedly, I get a little standoffish as I always do when I’m in labor. I just want to be left alone to do my thing… I really don’t need an audience for the “miracle of birth.” Try telling that to midwife farmer lady who thinks none of us goats can give birth without her assistance.
The contractions started hard Sunday night and continued through ALL of Monday and most of Tuesday. I was kept cheerful constant company (woohoo… yes, that’s sarcasm… goat sarcasm) by the ever so helpful (not) farmer lady and her absolutely atrocious Goat Medicine book. I guess this kidding was to be “by the book.” She set the book down on the ground at one point to take a look at me and I tried to waddle over to pee all over it but only made it two steps before the contractions stopped me dead in my tracks. These were painful, worse than the ones with Baine. These hurt… and they hurt bad.
Tuesday night things were getting real… The farmer lady rubbed my neck and brought me a bucket of hot water with some sort of sweet stuff in it… the elixir was incredible and I drank deeply. The hay was fluffed, towels gathered, heat lamp turned on and I munched on some grain, red raspberry leaves (smart thinking to farmer lady to save some of those from summer’s harvest… did your book tell you to do that?), and hay while the farmer lady messed around on her phone.
Then the farmer lady decided to poke and prod and check me out. Apparently I wasn’t “progressing” as much as she would have liked and she mentioned that it might not be until tomorrow morning before these babies come out. On her way out of my kidding suite she gave her cheerful, “Don’t worry Ella Bella it will be soon, so very soon.” She brought Fuzzy Bear in to keep me company and prevent the cats from annoying me.
I told Fuzzy Bear the plan… these kids were coming out… she seemed to agree but looked quite concerned as to what her part in all of this was going to be. She watched as I gave birth to my two beautiful boys and even helped me clean them up and dry them off. She truly was a help to this new mother!
About an hour later guess who showed up… the farmer lady. She was so excited and surprised and I have to admit I was quite proud of the job I had done. She scooped up the boys and hugged all over them. She gave Fuzzy some nice pats and gave me the best neck rubbing you could ever imagine… blissful!
She checked the boys and dipped their umbilical cords in a red solution of some sort which I licked off immediately when her back was turned. When will she understand that I’ve got this all covered… sheesh farmer ladies these days!
There you have it… the birth story of Caesar and Scipio (wow, who comes up with these names?). The farmer lady isn’t too thrilled with BOYS (apparently girls are treasured on The Shepherd Hobby Farm) and she talks of selling these two boys so I am devising my plan now… Operation “Keep all goats on the farm FOREVER”… we will call it “Operation Bunny Eyes”. The boys are doing well so far with their precious jumping, hopping, cuddling in her lap, and falling all over themselves and each other… well played little bucks, well played!
~Via Farmer Lady Jhenna