Damnation and Gratitude

The outpouring of kindness expressed since I posted the story about Amethyst has lifted our family and given us strength these last few days. Thank you all for all the kind-hearted words, the prayers, the cyber hugs, the calls, texts and emails. Thank you Mare for reminding me that we will come out on other side of this loss with more love to give, more patience and more gratitude, just as we have done before. Thank you Doni for helping me in my search for a vet, and an emergency backup vet, proficient with goat care. Thank-you Tanya for always having room in your heart for us. Thank-you Ellian for letting me put you on speed dial. Thank-you mom, for crying with me, then crying again with me, and then again. Thank-you Diane for bringing Sophie her favorite red velvet cupcakes. And thank you Kathryn Belzer for your beautiful words of wisdom.

Cupcakes from Diane

Kathryn's email came this morning, thrown like a lifeline, or maybe like a kick in the pants, all the way from Canada.  I have never had the privilege of meeting Kathryn, but her daughter, Terry Lynn has been a favorite person of mine since we met a few years ago, and after getting a small glimpse of her mom this morning, I understand why Terry Lynn is just so wonderful. Terry Lynn and her husband T.J. live on a horse ranch in New Mexico. They have always shared their lives with many four-legged family members and are not strangers to the pain and loss that comes with doing so.

T.J. and Sapphire

The email thread started with T.J. sharing my blog with Terry Lynn. The subject line on T.J.'s email was "damn..." When it came back around to me from Kathryn, the subject line was changed to "damnation and gratitude" With Kathryn's permission I have included her email in its entirety:

Dear Kristy,

This note comes from Terry Lynn's mom.  I am here on our farm in Nova
Scotia; not forever, but for this one last harvest season.  The house
dogs are telling me that the horses are heading in across the pasture
to the barn.  Every morning the dogs act as if they need to sound the
alarm that strange, large animals are posing an unprecedented threat.
Until three or four weeks ago, there were a team of blacks and a team of greys.
There were four Percherons plus a nice little Canadian X Morgan riding
horse.  Last month we lost a black gelding to a knot in the bowel; it
was a matter of needing quick emergency bullet to the head to stop
fruitless suffering immediately; getting a tractor with a lift; opening
the gate to the woods; thanking Goodness for friends who help in
emergencies.  The urgent situation had no ambiguity and begged no
weighing of options.  We miss him.
Now Fall is in the air and we have to carefully consider the options
for one of the greys.  She was born here, the other grey is her son. 
While is past her working years, we begrudge her nothing in her last
chapter and would gladly keep her through the coming winter if she were healthy.
She has melanoma and lameness that mean she would have to have a box
stall and could die in the barn in the winter.  The clarity of the
former sad situation is a blessing compared to the weight of this
consideration for our sweet Alice mare.  We cannot avoid the practical
disadvantage of having to deal with a draft horse carcass in the frozen
winter.  If we have had to inject medications, or euthanize the animal,
the remains are a threat to the wild animals in the woods or in rescue
confinements.  We consider her carefully.
All of this is to say that animal husbandry is a rich and sometimes
intense experience of what life and death and the bits in between truly
is for humans.  We involve ourselves to the extent we can and are
blessed and challenged accordingly.  My compassion for your loss of
your goat companion and the hard lesson is enormous.  I will not say
that I am sorry, although there are tears as I type.  The humble
maturity that comes with doing one's best and still falling short of
the mark is a gift to you from your lovely little goat.  Carry it with
you as you go on from here, dear; this is what the rest of us do.
Sincere regards,

Kathryn


As I read Kathryn's email, I smiled warmly at the image of the diligent guard dogs (a chi-yorkie and daschund, as Terry Lynn informed me) and tears flowed for the loss of their gelding and for the difficult decision now placed in front of them. I pray that the right decision is made for sweet Alice mare and for the Belzer Family.

Kathryn has made the lessons of our experience with Amethyst clear.  We have made the choices to be "damned" to a life that involves animal husbandry, complete with the rich and intense experiences that come with that life. I am deeply grateful to be blessed and challenged with this life. I hope that I can carry on with a fraction of the strength, courage and compassion that is so apparent in Kathryn as she offers her words of wisdom.

Thank you for your gift Amethyst. I will keep it close as I carry on from here.

Bright flowers on a rainy day at our Farm

Sorrow at the Farm

I've thought about starting a blog many times before. I'm sorry that my first blog is about a very sad experience. There have been so many good experiences in our animal adventures, but this is the event that pushed me to start. I have always enjoyed and learned much from reading other peoples stories, and selfishly, writing helps me heal, so today I write.

Sophie with her new goat Amethyst

Amethyst was Sophie’s 6^th grade FFA project and the catapult that prompted the move to our small farm last year.  We fell in love with the little white goat that Sophie kept at the school barn a block from our suburban home. When Amethyst had twin daughters, we couldn’t get enough of the adorable goat family. We loved everything about these funny little creatures and as a bonus Amethyst gave us fresh, hormone-free, non-GMO, delicious, healthy milk. Sophie quickly became an expert milker and I have loved learning how to make all things goat milk.

Amethyst was expecting her second set of twins on September 2^nd.  The kids were promised to a wonderful animal lover and friend, but we excitedly anticipated our time of baby goat cuteness. They would be with us for a couple months until they could be weaned and sent to their new home and after, we would have the wonderful, fresh milk again and enjoy the healthy harvest of our newly chosen farm-life. Sophie planned Am’s pregnancy so our friend could have the kids perfectly timed to be his FFA project and show in the fair. In hindsight, this may not have been good timing for Amethyst, who was so big and hot in the Florida summer.

We also planned a much-anticipated family vacation this summer.  It was a busy summer for our teenagers – new job, sports training sessions and practices, 2 minor surgeries, so scheduling the vacation was difficult. The only time that worked was a bit close to Amethyst’s due date, but early childbirth is rare. Her last delivery was exactly on time and without the slightest hiccup. We had great farm sitters and backup farm sitters and friends and neighbors who were just driving by to check on the pregnant mama goat. We had dreamed of taking this vacation for a long time; and with an empty nest coming much too soon in our future, we were hoping to make as many family memories as possible. Besides, goats are born everyday in the field with no one around, right?

Amethyst's twins Ruby and Sapphire

The night before we left for Montana, Am had a limp that was barely noticeable. We took a quick look, but didn’t think much of it. The next morning the limp was more severe. A thorough inspection revealed a small wound between the claws of her hoof. We cleaned and treated the wound, updated the pages of animal-sitter instructions with wound care, called with verbal instructions and left for Montana. Reports the next day were that she was not out grazing, but was coming out for grain and hay.  There were no signs of infection, but she was not putting much weight on her foot. We needed some peace of mind, so the vet was called and scheduled to check her on Monday. He reported that she was very healthy, the kids sounded fine and her wound was healing nicely.  We relaxed with just a few daily check-ins and enjoyed our wonderful vacation.

We arrived home Saturday evening around 7pm. Am peeked out of the barn to greet us, ate an animal cookie, but did not take a second one.  Rain was starting to fall, so into the little yellow barn we all went. As we watched Am, it was apparent that something was wrong and we immediately suspected she was in labor. Jeff and Joey moved the other goats through the rain and flooded field into the big barn and settled them in while Sophie and I watched Am.  She seemed to have a few contractions and looked to make some effort to push, but it was not like her last delivery. We began to get worried when time passed with no progress in labor, but still definite discomfort. We gave her some water with molasses and called Am’s breeder, our wonderful goat mentor and an encyclopedia of information. She helped give Sophie confidence to feel for a mal positioned kid, something we have both read about and watched on you tube enough to know the harm we could accidently cause in this effort to help. She felt nothing.

The whole gang at the little yellow barn. Ruby, Sapphire, Sophie, Amethyst and Mudge

Then, Am seemed to relax a little. We didn’t see contractions or pushing and she seemed better, still some discomfort but better. Because we had not really seen active labor like we did the last time, we re-evaluated and came to the conclusion that maybe she was in early stages getting ready for labor and it would be awhile still. We tried to clean up the barn and make her comfortable, put her sweetest daughter in with her to keep her company and unloaded the car.

After a long tiring journey, Jeff and Joey went to bed. Sophie and I went back to the little yellow barn and there we sat. I was reluctant to bother anyone in the late hours of a Saturday night during a torrential downpour, especially after we had just worried needlessly and spent $185 for a vet visit for a “livestock animal” about a small hoof wound that was healing fine; After we had bothered and pestered so many friends and family to check on her while we were away and she was just fine; After the vet had just seen her and assured us of her wonderful health; After Amethyst was already an expert at childbirth and motherhood; After knowing that it was hot, she was huge, her hoof hurt and maybe she was just getting ready for active labor soon. My instincts and my daughter were both telling me we needed a vet’s help, but all of these things made me wait too long and for that I feel deep guilt and regret.  

It became apparent that Am was in real distress. Her pain was now very real and unmistakable. This was definitely labor and she was getting nowhere. We called our goat vet’s emergency number and left a message. We could not just sit and wait for the return call, so this time I tried to feel for a kid, but felt nothing.   Still there was no return call. We woke Jeff and the 3 of us just started calling, trying frantically to find Am a doctor.

There are very few vets who treat goats. I appreciate the doctor I talked to who honestly told me that if we could not feel a kid something was seriously wrong. Am would likely need a c–section and he did not have a clue how to perform a c-section on a goat. At least he seemed willing to help if he thought he could.  Finally, after an eternity of phone calls and an eternity of watching Am’s pain, we found a doctor in Tampa who would see her. It was a 1 ½ hour drive, but we had hope now. We placed the crate in the barn and as Sophie touched her shoulder to ease her up into the crate, Am died. We are all heartbroken, especially Sophie and I am beyond worried about my daughter.

Amethyst's grave

Am’s daughter, Ruby is also pregnant, due September 17^th.  This is both a blessing and a curse for us. We are trying to find a new goat vet, proficient at c-sections and willing to take emergency calls. So far we have not found one. Our previous vet has assured us that the malfunction of his emergency phone system has been fixed and he will be available for our emergency next time, even on a rainy Sunday at 2am.

After helplessly watching the suffering of this sweet animal, I am no longer so certain that we are cut out for this little farm life.  Having farm fresh milk and eggs no longer seems very important. I am afraid that in our inexperience, we have allowed ourselves to love these “livestock” animals deeply and opened our hearts up to a great deal of pain in the process. I pray that our newly chosen life is the right path and we are strong enough people to endure the hardship that comes with it. I hope there are valuable lessons for my children hidden in the pain that comes from this experience, and not just scars that harden their hearts and souls. I am searching to find and understand those lessons. I pray for Ruby to have a safe and easy birth. And I pray for dear, sweet mama Amethyst and her unborn kids. I am sure goats go to heaven.