A Watched Pot Never Boils

When I went to bed last night, Bethany gave no more indication of labor than she has for the last five days. Since the rain continued to fall, and I felt a bit ill, I told Phil I didn't plan to get up in the night to check on Bethany's progress. He said, "Yeah, I don't know why you would."

I half awoke a few times during the night to pounding rain and blowing wind, and when Phil measured this morning, he found that we have had over six inches of rain so far this week.

To put that in perspective, that's half a five-gallon bucket. That's a lot of rain.

Hog Creek is rushing by only about two feet below the banks. Phil was thankful his tent in the lower pasture, with chainsaw and tools, didn't wash away (and I'm thankful the water hasn't yet even come close. The tent is fine).

I do realize that a falling barometer is often a labor inducer, but since it's been raining off and on most of the week, I hardly thought the continued rain would trigger labor.

Perhaps, though, the almost three inches of rain was what Bethany needed. (Perhaps she wanted a water birth?)

Phil came to get me first thing: "She had her baby!"

Of course.

Bethany was placidly eating, and her sopping baby stood nearby, shivering. Visions of Rotten Isabella immediately triggered, and I rushed to get a dry towel, FastTrack nutrients, and a milking pail for colostrum, almost weeping for fear of losing this life. And angry that the mother would not be a good mother. No more bad mothers on this farm! Stop already!

While Phil tried to fix up a tarp, to get the baby out of the rain, I tried to milk Bethany, who would have none of it. She kicked at the pail and walked away. We briefly tried to corral the cow, but Phil stopped that after a few moments.

Phil, more level-headed. He advocated watching and waiting. While I went to get iodine for the umbilical cord, he stood in the rain and watched the baby nurse. She was doing just fine.

The relief hasn't yet sunk in.

A healthy mother. A GOOD mother, who managed a birth in the dark during a three inch rainfall, fed her baby, and took care of herself. I watched the baby poop, another good sign of adequate food consumption.

Baby Belle. Another precious heifer calf. (Named both for the beauty of the sound, and as a salute to my favorite Disney movie, and favorite fairy tale, Beauty and the Beast.)

The Lord is good to us.

Our 2010 Calf Crop: baby Beatrice and baby Belle.