The Long Night Has Ended

April 8, 2009 in Goats and Cheese by DJ | 1 comment


Wind (right) at four months old, July 2007.

Yesterday morning found a healthy baby girl, and Wind was eating and drinking though still not able to stand.  Finally, it seemed, the long night had ended.  After a few hours of sleep, I went back to tax returns and my wife spent time with the other animals (who complained loudly of neglect).

But by late afternoon, it was clear that Wind wasn’t drinking enough.  My wife asked the vet to come out and give her more fluids.  I had gone into town for the evening when I got the text message: there was a third kid and Wind was in bad shape.  I drove home as fast as I could without getting pulled over.

Despite my repeated checking, Wind did indeed have a third kid inside her.  He’d been in there too long and had become weak, but wasn’t mature enough to breathe outside the womb.  He didn’t live long.  And Wind was so dehydrated that the vet gave her two liters of fluids, with a warning that it really wasn’t enough but she didn’t dare give her a third.  Wind’s blood pressure was low, and her temp (normally 101-102) was down to 98.  “Quite frankly, I don’t think she has much of a chance,” the vet told me when my wife had left the barn for a moment.  I guess she figured I’d be less emotional about it– not necessarily a correct assumption.  She also gave Wind some painkillers and other meds.  Then she left us for the night promising to come back in the morning– if there was any need. 

We decided that Wind should not be left alone.  We sat with her until well after midnight, watching her get weaker and weaker.  Her temperature dropped to 95.1 degrees.  I laid down next to her with my body up against her, and my wife put blankets over us.  I may not be much of a nurse, but I can share my heat!  Later we switched to a heating pad set on low.

My wife stayed with Wind, setting up a cot next to Wind so she could sleep in the barn, while I went to bed with the phone at my side.  But she didn’t sleep.  About five o’clock, she called: Wind was getting worse   Her temp had risen only to 96, still way too low.  And she was having powerful contractions, and was so exhausted she could no longer hold her head up.  I called the vet and roused her from bed, She told us to put rubber gloves filled with hot water on Wind’s neck, and to check to see if there was a fourth kid inside (there wasn’t).  And she said she’d get here as quickly as she could.

We called the vet back a few minutes later and told her there was no need: Wind died just before 6 am.  Then we cried.

In hindsight, there were things we could have done better.  I’ve been second-guessing every decision, wondering what might have given Wind a better chance at survival.  On the other hand, it’s just as likely that by the time she was too weak to stand, the outcome was inevitable.

Our rancher friend told me this morning, “The first one you lose is the hardest.  After that, you don’t get hardened so much as just accepting that this is part of the process.”

Which reminded me of a Bible passage I read the other night on GoatWisdom.com:

“For the fate of humans and the fate of animals is the same; as one dies, so dies the other… All go to one place; all are from the dust, and all turn to dust again. Who knows whether the human spirit goes upward and the spirit of animals goes downward to the earth?” (Ecclesiastes 3:19-21)

We’ll bury Wind, along with the two kids that died, in the back yard later today. Our lives have been made richer for knowing her– and her memory will live on in the little miracle girl she leaves behind.