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The Miracle of Life

January 14, 2008

Even though it's a little earlier than I like, this is the time of the year the baby goats start being born. Our first pair was born early this day, and thankfully, it was a balmy 30 degrees. Hey, that's a lot better than 6. Last year, the little girl born when it was 6 degrees lost part of her ears because we didn't get them dry enough and they froze. She's adorable, but I still feel bad.

I usually fuss, to the point that I feel I'm obsessing, over being sure the babies get dry, get on their feet, and eat. Those are the three most important points of the first 24 hours. I relaxed a little this time, though, because it wasn't so cold. I didn't need to do a whole lot of drying, they were well on their feet, and I was pretty sure that I'd seen both babies making motions toward eating. I helped the little boy at evening chores, just to be sure. He didn't take much, and I decided that he'd probably been nursing on his own throughout the day and just wasn't hungry.

I should have listened to my inner voice. I should have spent more time working with him, because when I went out the next morning, he was laid out on the straw, and I thought he was gone. It had been almost 24 hours since his birth.

"Oh, no!" I cried as I threw open the door and rushed to his side. I touched him and he whimpered. He was alive! I grabbed him up, held him close to my chest, and ran for the house.

Thank goodness my 11-year-old saw me coming and was able to help immediately. We got a box, put in a blanket, attached the heating lamp, and began warming him up. While Orion continued to massage him and talk to him, I ran back out to finish the chores and get his mother's colostrum (early milk) so we could feed him.

Throughout that day I gave him milk with a dropper every hour. We hovered over him endlessly, praying and watching, talking to him and petting. And finally, after about seven hours of these feedings, he struggled to his feet. He was going to be okay.

Over the next two days, as I bottle-fed the baby at two hour intervals--yes, around the clock; as I carted him back and forth to the barn so he could learn how to nurse from his mother; as I watched him gain strength and grow practically right before my eyes, I thanked God. I thanked Him for this baby's life. I thanked Him for the opportunity to help this baby goat live. And I marveled at the simple, beautiful miracle of life. We are so blessed to be able to witness that miracle with our animals, at our home, each year.

Here's a picture of baby boy that first week while he was in the house.
He learned to escape his box and totter around on the kitchen floor.
He sure was cute to watch, but he didn't get to stay out long; clean-up, ya know...

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Chantal L. DeYoe
Products For A Good Life

I am a Christian and a homeschooling, homesteading mom who endeavors to continue moving along the path toward becoming a full-time writer.
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