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The Miracle of Birth

So if I told you that I knew someone whose abdomen was swollen by the presence of a pair of entities, entities planted there by another being and whose growth was aided by a temporary, accessory organ a bloody mass by which they rob this someone of her nutrients, how would that make you feel? And if I told you that these entities were, any day now, going to burst forth from this someone in a great rush of blood-tinged fluid? And that they were to then rise to their feet and latch onto the body of this someone in parasitic hunger? What would you say?

Probably, "awwwww!" Birth is funny that way. Totally disgusting in concept, and totally fantastic in execution.

Our own dear Missy, Empress of All that the Light Touches, is going to give birth any day. She is a small doe, weighing in at a hundred pounds or so, and delivered 23 pounds of healthy, fuzzy wuzzy offspring last time she kidded. Her son, Jasper Jules, is now the strapping goat equivalent of a linebacker, and would have made good eating were the humans not vegetarians.

The difference between goat mothers and horse mothers—and forgive me if I've mentioned this before, but it is a point worth repeating—is that goat mothers will wait until three in the afternoon on the sunniest day of spring to give birth. We don't expect kids this weekend, because the forecast calls for high winds and hail. Horse mothers wait until three in the MORNING on the stormiest night of spring, and will foal when there is a tree blocking the road and the three closest vets are, respectively, hospitalized for pneumonia, visiting family in Florida, and incapacitated by a blow to the head.

Speaking of birth, FarmWife's evening plans include baking a cake for her youngest daughter, who came into the world by the above-described method three years ago. As a consequence, I haven't time to write much this evening. As I leave you, friends, do please join me in wishing Missy all the best as she prepares to kid this week. She will benefit from our good wishes as she undertakes the messy business of birth.


Comments

  1. BethApril 2, 2010 at 7:16 PM

    Oh the wonders of new life! Congrats on a healthy birth. . . I have lost one doe and two kids so far. . . so I really REALLY mean Congratulations!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. UpupaepopsApril 2, 2010 at 8:29 PM

    best wishes for a non-stormy entry. This wind is amazing and really is making me change my weekend plans

    ReplyDelete
  3. Fenway BartholomuleApril 5, 2010 at 8:22 AM

    Missy is getting pretty big! FarmWife has locked me out of the goat area in anticipation of the birth. She is ignoring my tremendous promise as a midwife.

    ReplyDelete
  4. littledogApril 6, 2010 at 5:21 AM

    Awww! Best wishes to The Empress for healthy babies--Geez, Fenway, the way you describe it, you've seen "Alien" too many times!

    ReplyDelete
  5. littledogApril 6, 2010 at 5:26 AM

    So, Fenway, your poll is a sequal to the last poll about "things you do," right? Cause we still want to keep doing the things we do, we just want to add more things, like driving, foxhunting (Oreo the dog adds,"just chasing fake ones for fun, not like really HUNTING them!") and trying polo!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Fenway BartholomuleApril 6, 2010 at 8:17 AM

    Littledog, yes . . . one should never stop doing the things one does so long as the things one does make one feel fulfilled. The True Renaissance Mule seeks to be a Jack of All Trades . . . er, make that John of All Trades . . . without sacrificing quality of performance.

    ReplyDelete

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