Shew. I’m finally getting around to blogging Sandy’s delivery! It’s been a busy couple of weeks. The week Sandy kidded I was juggling house/pet sitting, caring for my own critters, a content writing gig, and, toward the end of the week, making a cake and 48 cupcakes for a friend’s baby shower. Things have slowed down a little, but starting tomorrow I’ll be farm sitting again for a few days (just in the evenings, thankfully) and I begin training for another position April 30th. And I’m still content writing.

Needless to say, I’m behind on a few things. Like blogging.

I was staying about 30 minutes away from home the week Sandy was due and making the trek back and forth twice a day to feed everyone and check on Sandy. Thanks to the new barn camera we installed the weekend before, I was able to spy on Sandy remotely. That was such a huge relief for me. Normally I’d have been making trips to the barn every few hours in the middle of the night, but thanks to the barn cam I could wake up, check on her, and go back to sleep without ever leaving the bed…and I could keep an eye on her from thirty minutes away. If you think barn cams are out of your price range, just click the link above,..these are so affordable, and installation was pretty easy. We did have to call customer support to figure out the remote watching option, but they fixed it for us right away.

On April 15th, which was a Wednesday, I noticed Sandy was starting to show signs of going into labor. She was being restless, getting up and down, stretching, and not eating as much. I already knew from checking her in person earlier that her ligaments were nonexistent by this point. She wasn’t eminent yet, so I continued my normal activities while all the time keeping an eye on her via my smart phone, tablet, or computer…depending on which room I was in. That afternoon I decided to go ahead and get things in order and head home so that I could get everyone at my own barn tucked in and watch her a bit closer.

Sandy finally got down to business around 9:00 pm that night. Things progressed normally, although she was more vocal than previous goats for whom I’ve been a midwife, and finally came a mouth — complete with a tongue occasionally poking out and then back in — and then, a hoof. Of course, there are supposed to be two hooves, but I guess this kid didn’t get the memo. Now, I’ve seen goats give birth to a kid with one leg back with no trouble. In fact, Sandy’s dam, Brownie, did so last year. But, without describing things in too much detail, I was afraid that she was heading toward a rectal prolapse. She didn’t look the way I’d seen others look before. I knew she was making progress with the delivery, but I worried that if she continued straining for too much longer we would have a problem. I had called my mom down from the house for a second opinion, and she got a third opinion by sending a picture to one of our “goat” friends.

Meanwhile, I put on gloves, iodine, and lubricant and tried to gently work my way in to find the other leg, just to make things go a little more quickly. Normally I wouldn’t try to intervene unless no progress was happening, but even though the kid was inching his way out slowly but surely, I wanted to speed thing along so she could stop straining. I didn’t have much luck, though. It was extremely tight fit, and the fact that I don’t exactly have delicate piano-playing fingers wasn’t helping. So I gave up and just watched. (And can I just admit that my hands give me anxiety around kidding time?? Is there some trick to making hands shrink? Because these man-hands of mine weren’t made for this kind of stuff. I’m often thinking, okay if Mom [who has small hands] isn’t home, who do I know nearby with small hands I can call… If you live near me and have small hands, consider this your warning.)

The kid finally came out on his own, one leg back and all, and things went back to normal on Sandy. He was born a little after 10:00 pm. About the same time he made his grand entrance, our friend had written back that it looked like his head was a little sideways due to only one leg being forward. That was probably causing the strange appearance and the slight delay of her pushing him out. I got the kid’s airways cleared and, since it wasn’t cold, let Sandy do the rest of his cleaning. He was a little guy, but had good vigor and started trying to stand almost immediately. He latched on very quickly as well.

At this point, Sandy was facing me with her rear in the corner while licking the kid. I didn’t think anything about that, really. Mom and I were watching her for signs that she was going to have another, but she just kept standing there. I was beginning to think she was done when I noticed something odd looking behind her…

Unfortunately, Sandy had delivered a second kid without me, my mom, or apparently even herself noticing. I grabbed the kid and tried every method I knew of getting his lungs cleared out. I aspirated him with a bulb syringe, held him partially upside down while rubbing and patting, and I even tried the “swinging method” (not really a recommended method, but I was trying everything). I really already knew he was gone, but you always have to try anyway just in case. So, I stopped to simply evaluate the kid.

I’m not exaggerating when I say he was tiny. I wish I’d have thought to weigh him, because I would be surprised if he’d weighed much more than a pound. I checked his teeth and found that they hadn’t made it all the way through the gums yet, which is a sign of prematurity, and he had very little meat on his bones. Sandy delivered on day 144, which is not incredibly early, but like one person pointed out, a few more days might have made a big difference for this particular kid. (Normal gestation for Nigerians is 145-150 days, for standards it’s usually 150-155.) I have to wonder if he would have survived even if I’d seen him immediately after his birth.

Although there’s no way to know 100%, I speculate that he didn’t have as strong a connection to the placenta as his brother. Goat kids usually share a single placenta, although there can be two if there are kids in both of the uterine horns. That would explain why he was so much smaller and less developed than his brother. Differences in birth weight aren’t unusual, but this was a pretty extreme difference. His size also explains why Sandy didn’t seem to know he was back there, and the humans didn’t notice either.

The firstborn is doing well and is hitting that playful stage. He will be available as a wether after weaning. Sandy is also doing very well, and has been a champ on the milk stand. If you knew her before she gave birth, you would be amazed at her behavior on the stand now. She kicks very little, usually just right at the beginning and right at the end (teat dip). She will probably never be a friendly goat, but let me tell you…if you want to improve an unfriendly goat’s personality, be there when she kids. Let her lick your hands. And then start to milk her immediately, without separating the kids (even if you don’t get much).

So what did this delivery teach me? Well, first of all, that a leg back can also make the head a little crooked, which can then result in things looking a bit strange on the doe. Secondly, and maybe most importantly, don’t let the business end of the goat face away from you when she’s in labor.

I’d like at least one kidding this year where I don’t have to learn something…and another doeling or two would be nice!

Cheers