I was all set to do a post yesterday. I clipped some blackberry vines so the goats have access to more snacks, and then went to deliver some milk. While I was there, I got a call from my best friend, saying her hugely pregnant goat had gone into labor. I dropped everything and drove over there as fast as I could. I am a birth junkie, and I never miss one if I can help it. When I got there, all the goats, including the one in labor, were out grazing in the back pasture.
We went out to see how Lucy was doing. She was happily munching away, and seemed unconcerned. I checked her pinbones, which is a good indicator of how close a doe is to delivering. You squeeze right at the base of the tail. As they get closer to active labor, the ligaments soften. When they seem to have disappeared altogether, you know it's imminent. Lucy's felt a little tight still, but her udder had suddenly filled up, which is another sign that she's getting close. I felt her right side and could still feel lumps. When they are very, very close, they will suddenly look less pregnant and you won't be able to feel little feet or knobby knees through the mother's sides anymore. This is because the kids are lining up to take the journey down the birth canal. Since I could still feel lumps, we figured she had at least twelve hours. We went and sat down on the porch to chat.
A couple of hours later, we thought maybe we should check on her again, and discovered her in the barn actively trying to push! Ninety five percent of the time, goats can deliver their kids just fine without any help from us. We just get in the way. Hence, when Tracy and I midwife goats together, we take a bottle of wine out to the barn with us and have a quiet chat while we witness the miracle of birth. After a fair amount of wine had been consumed without any progress on the babies, I went to see what was going on. I saw what looked like a foot, which is what you want to see. After another half hour of pushing with no progress, I looked a little closer. Keep in mind that the lighting in the average barn is, shall we say, sub-optimal.
The following illustrations are courtesy of Storey's Guide to Raising Dairy Goats. It's kind of like Goatkeeping for Dummies, and I relied heavily on it for the first year I had goats, until I got my veterinary goat book, which is a lot more helpful. This is what you want to see in a kid presentation.
When I looked a little closer, I noticed that what I was seeing was not in fact a foot, but a face with the tongue hanging out! Both of us assumed this kid was dead at this point. We have delivered our fair share of dead kids, and this sure seemed like one of them. What we were actually dealing with was more like this.
Tracy and I have a little touch of PTSD regarding going in after a kid. The last time we had to do it, we lost the mother and one of the kids, and nearly lost a second kid. For those of you who know some of my goats, this was Sweet Pea's mom. It's been six years since that birth, and we really didn't want to do it. In a last ditch effort, we tried to realign the kids by lifting up the back legs of the mother so that the kids will slide back out of the canal and might get into a better position. I found out this morning that Lucy weighs 190 pounds, so I'm sure I will be feeling that tomorrow!
The vet said that going in was our only option, so I washed my arms thoroughly and steeled my nerves. Mind you, I had never personally had to pull a kid. I have helped pull them once they were partially delivered, but never more than that. During kidding season I keep my fingernails really short, on the off chance I will have to be inside a goat. I didn't have any pregnant moms this year, so my nails are a little longer than I would like. I was nervous about reaching in there and tearing Lucy, so I kept my fingers turned in like claws so I would make contact with only the kid. I got in just past my wrist and I felt a leg! I hooked the knee with my middle finger and pulled the leg forward, and on her next contraction I managed to get the whole kid out at once. The kid hit the hay and jerked her head and took a big breath. Tracy and I were flabbergasted!
All evening we had been laboring under the illusion that this kid was dead, and we were working to get her out in order to save Lucy and any other kids that might be queued up behind her. It never occurred to us that she could survive in the canal that long with her little tongue hanging out. There was some joyful weeping and hugging on the part of the humans, and a lot of licking and nuzzling on the part of the goat mama. She had been licking my entire face for a lot of the labor, and now she could turn her attention to her actual baby.
By this point, Tracy's husband had long since made dinner, so we went in for a quick bite before we scurried back out to the barn to see about the next baby. Nobody was forthcoming, so we focused on getting the little girl to nurse. She was super tiny, even for a newborn goat, and couldn't stand up even after more than an hour had passed. Usually they are up and nursing within 30 minutes or so.
She was having trouble latching on, so I milked some colostrum into a syringe, and managed to get some into her that way. It is very important that the little ones get their first meal pretty soon after they are born. It gives them energy and helps to keep them warm. She was very cold, even with a heat lamp, so we kept trying to get her to nurse. I put my finger in her mouth and it was cold. Not a good sign! Tracy gave her another syringe of colostrum (which is thicker and much stickier than regular milk) and misfired a little, hosing down most of my face and the side of my head.
It was 10:45 by the time I left, which is way past my bedtime. Lucy was obviously still packing some kids, but Tracy thought I should go get some sleep in case she had to call me in the middle of the night to come pull another one. Luckily, that wasn't necessary. I went home, covered in colostrum, baby goo, and whatever the lubricant was that I used before going in to get the kid. I most definitely took a shower before bed.
Tracy texted me this morning to say that Lucy had one more live kid, a little boy, and one lightly mummified kid. We think that's why she went into labor a little early. One of the kids had died in utero, and all the kids were at risk if the dead one stayed in there with them. I went over to give the kids their selenium shots and to give Lucy a hefty dose of antibiotics. Any time you have to put your hand in a goat, they need antibiotics. The chances of bacteria going in with you and causing a fatal infection are too great. Tracy would have done it herself, but I have the good antibiotic. Our little community has a robust drug trade. There's no need for all of us to buy all the goat medications, so everybody has a little of something and we just trade amongst ourselves. Much more economical in the long run.
Both of the kids are doing wonderfully well, in spite of having emerged into the world a little earlier than would have been ideal. They are ridiculously cute.
I have attended dozens of goat births, and it never gets old. Each one is a miracle. Some, like this one, are more miraculous than others. I have been riding the baby goat high all day, marveling that the first kid was born alive and survived the night. Even writing about it now is making me a little teary.
Lucy is doing really well after her ordeal. She had been trying to tell me, with all the face licking, that she needed help. I'm glad we finally listened to her. She has a prize-worthy udder that is all ready to make her kids grow into bouncy, playful little goat toddlers. Feel free to look away if this photo is too much. Us goat people are very proud of our girls' udders. That's what keeps the fridge full!
It took a couple of kidding seasons before I got used to this baby goat resting posture. It always makes them look dead, and it totally freaked me out until I got used to it. Now I just think it's cute.
I feel like I've reached the end of the story, but there are so many cute baby pictures left! Here's another one.
Here's one of the cutest little foot in the world. Their feet are white and gummy when they are first born, and after a few hours they dry out and harden into the perfect little hoofs. (Hooves?)
Here's a shot of the whole family, and then I promise I will stop. I wish I could accurately convey the absolute joy I am feeling right now. Joy and gratitude. So often the difficult births go badly for the babies, and we just take it in stride, working to save the mothers. This time we got the best outcome. Two precious babies and a healthy mother.
Thank you all for putting up with this very long post! I am going to go relax for a couple of hours, until it's time to do chores.