Katherine came into the office an hour later, and I realized that Coco really was not going to have her kids anytime soon in spite of her occasional screaming. I came into the house, had breakfast, heard Coco scream over the baby monitor a couple more times and called a goat friend. She encouraged me to check her and just see if she was dilated, so shortly after ten, I went back outside and checked Coco. Nothing. Absolutely no dilatation at all. Not even getting started! This is really weird for my goats. Normally, from the time I realize they're in labor until the time I see kids is somewhere between five minutes and two hours. This was shaping up to be the weirdest kidding season ever. My head felt worse. I went into the office and laid down on the futon. For four hours, my head throbbed and I listened to Coco's scream every twenty or thirty minutes. Close to 3:00, I heard Cleo a couple times. I went into the barn and sat down with her. She is always a big baby when she's in labor, and she wanted to lay in my lap. She weighs about 75 pounds, so she is not even close to being a baby.
Neither Katherine or Jonathan were home, but Mike had been running maple sap from across the creek and boiling it down. I finally decided I couldn't take it any longer. Every time Coco or Cleo screamed, it felt like a smack across the side of my head, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I went into the house and told Mike, "Okay, I know the maple syrup is important, but you can fill up the pots really full so you don't have to worry about them boiling down to nothing. I can't sit out there anymore. I need to go to bed." I asked him to come with me and hold Coco, so I could check her cervix one more time to see if she had started dilating. He held her. I squirted iodine on my gloved fingers and checked. Still nothing, nada, zilch dilation. As I stood up, Cleo made a sound from the other end of the barn that sounded like she was seriously pushing. Mike and I walked over there and found her laying in the corner of the pen pushing quite convincingly.
|Cleo's black doelings at one week|
After the third kid was born, I saw membranes hanging out, indicating that the placenta would be next, and I told Mike I was heading to bed. I thought about calling U of I to talk to one of the vets on call, but I was in no condition to drive Coco down there, and I hated the idea of sending Mike off with one of my goats. I guess Cleo knows that it's okay to act like a baby when she's in labor, because my goats are my babies. If Coco had to go to U of I, then I had to go with her, even if I had to take a barf bag along for the ride and ask Mike to drive for me. So, when I walked into the house, I picked up the phone and punched in the number for U of I.