First calf of 2012

Not long after we moved our cattle to their new farm, SS told us a story about her formative memories of cows and calving. Apparently, her father was driving home on a snowy spring day when he spotted a neighbor's newborn calf stranded, shivering in an irrigation ditch. Hoping to extract it, he left little SS in the passenger's seat of his truck and climbed in the pasture to fish the freezing calf out of the water. The mother cow took exception to his altruism and proceeded to bludgeoned him half to death in front of his terrified daughter. For her entire life, this memory has plagued SS, but she was able to overcome it to allow us to house our cattle at her farm.

We assured our friend that her scenario was unlikely to be a problem for us. We have tame cows after all, and May babies. No snow, no attack mommas. Nevertheless, SS is still a bit dodgy about going in the pasture with the bovines, fearing an unsolicited confrontation with one of them.

On May 9th, I got a call from one of the folks who frequents SS's farm informing me that Momma Cow was acting like she was in labor. Contractions, stringy stuff emerging, etc. As I was about an hour away, I texted the Hubby to tell him the news, and he hustled out to find Momma grazing comfortably, with no calf in sight. Hubby  headed into the pasture to look for signs of birth, and quickly discovered the afterbirth...but still no calf. Now turning to Momma Cow for answers, Hubby suddenly recalled SS's calf in the ditch story. Off he marched to the irrigation canal that bordered the cow pasture and found the hot wire that keeps the cattle out of it had been destroyed. Uh oh.

There at the bottom of the canal, was a tiny, very cold newborn calf. His two little front feet were struggling to maintain a foothold on the sheer edge of the canal and he had quite a shiver going. Hubby realized that if he climbed down to grab the baby by himself, he might be stuck as well, so he called the farm friend for help. She held his belt while he hung over the bank of the canal and collected the tyke.

Momma Cow took it in stride, even while Hubby vigorously rubbed the newborn dry. SS soon appeared on the quad and Hubby climbed on the back holding the baby calf, and Momma, now a bit concerned followed closely behind calling to her baby as she walked. Slow and steady, they moved Momma and baby to a new pasture...without a deep canal. Hubby laid little guy in the sun and stepped away to see him hop to his feet and nurse.

You may recall this calf is the one sired by Stenberg Coalition 509 which I blogged about in "Shopping Online for Baby Daddies", and he's our first bull calf. We dubbed the little fella "Buoy" after his aquatic adventure and he is growing and gaining weight well. Thankfully, he has suffered no ill effects from his early struggles, though he remains the only of our cattle to have been baptized.

Hard to believe that three years ago...

Yesterday, we celebrated the birth of my baby girl, and I couldn't help reflecting on that day, three years ago.

Her due date was June 1st, but I thought she'd make her appearance on May 22nd. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions for weeks, but on May 22nd, a category 4 tornado blew through our town, destroying half the town in its wake. As happens when a low pressure system like a tornado hits, my body responded by going into labor. For weeks I had been praying for an early birth, but now, as I reviewed the damage to property and the loss of power, I realized how inconvenient it would be to bring my baby into the world with no power and no hot water. I crossed my legs and stayed busy. The labor stopped.

Then, June 1st came and went. Now, I was grumpy. I walked for hours to motivate my baby into action, and it would work for a bit...contractions would start, but when I stopped, the contractions stopped too. My midwife was sharing all the wonderful tips she could to naturally induce labor, but that little girl was just not going to budge. Another week went by.

We went to church on the evening of Saturday, June 7th, and at communion, as I walked past the pastor, he apparently spotted my overgrown condition and pulled me aside to pray over me. Eight hours later, I was in labor. By the time I woke up and realized I was in labor, the contractions were already 2 minutes apart. The Hubby, convinced we were in no big hurry, refused to call the midwife right away, despite confirming the contraction timing twice. Finally I convinced him to call my sister-in-law to come babysit, so that we could start the migration to my mother-in-law's house where we planned to deliver our baby.

An hour later, my sis-in-law appeared, but I was useless to give her instructions through the frequent contractions. After I deliriously delegated the instruction giving to my Hubby, we motored slowly down the gravel path to my mother-in-law's house and settled into her bedroom to go through the labor.

My midwife arrived about 45 minutes later and confirmed labor was right on track. Good to hear after my frustrating hospital delivery with Boy. The Hubby was a brilliant coach, although the cologne left on his shirt from the night before made me uncomfortably nauseous as I labored on. After a little more than an hour of peaceful uncomplicated labor, it was time to push. True to form, my little girl was late to the party, but once she decided to make her entrance, there was no stopping her. She arrived with her right arm up, as though she was a superhero flying through the air.

We estimated she was somewhere around 8.5 pounds when she made her appearance, because we didn't weigh her until she'd pooped twice, and even then she was 8 pounds 2 ounces. She slept immediately, and I gorged on breakfast, high from the most wonderful, blessed home birthing experience ever. The peace wasn't to last as she awoke at about 8:00 that night, just as I was settling in for some rest, and bawled for 12 straight hours, clearly irritated that colostrum was all that was on the menu.

For the next 12 months, Little Sister gained weight. She developed the nickname "Squishy" during this time. And what a sense of humor she had. Even before she could crawl, she would giggle and squeal incessantly to a good game of peekaboo. After she could crawl it was tag on all fours. With all that activity, she didn't gain a pound for another 9 months, but continued to shoot straight up in height.

She's crazy about her big brother, and Boy, in turn, is a fully appointed protector of his baby sister. No one can make her cry (except him). Recently, Little Sister came running in and kicked me in the shin with one of her little bare feet. In shock, I began to protest but before I could catch her, she ran top speed into her brothers room, where he was sitting in time out. I heard her tell him, "I got her for you...I kicked her in the leg...she was really mad." And then they both laughed, delighting in the fact that they'd teamed up against mom and won. I was chuckling too much to follow the assault up with any further discipline.

Since her birth three years ago, my perfect little girl has been a delight and a blessing. Never have I known a more joyful, intense, complicated, independent creature than my little girl. Simultaneously all girl, and all boy, she dons her prettiest princess dress to go hunt worms in the garden. She giggles and teases, shrieks and whispers. It's impossible not to love Little Sister. Happy Birthday, my little lady bug wrangler.