Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

The week of April 11 was rough for Cowboy and Girl 2.  Nightly checks at two-hour intervals were beginning to take their toll, and Cowboy was staggering around looking like he hadn’t slept in days.  When he came inside for breakfast following his early morning mare check, he said every sign was telling him we would soon have a foal.  Yep, he was sure it was going to happen TODAY!  He muttered something incoherent like “she’s really bagged up…looks like she’s waxing…soft in the poll…uhh…no, wait…I’M the one soft in the poll….SHE’S soft at the dock!”  (For you non-horse people out there, the “dock,” or top of the tail, gets soft just before a mare goes into the labor…the “poll,” on the other hand, is the top of a horse’s head!) It was very plain to see Cowboy needed a good long night of uninterrupted sleep.  But as we all know, there is no rest for the weary…and good things come to those who wait.

Cowboy and I had a meeting to attend, so arrangements were made for Girl 2 to stay behind and keep an eye on things, and she had strict instructions to text message me if anything started happening.  By 11:00 a.m. I was SURE she must be in the the middle of a tough delivery and she hadn’t texted me yet (the nerve!), so I sent her a message:

ME: “anything happening?”

EMMA: “nope. just moving around alot. how close are they when water breaks?”

ME: “CLOSE! Her water broke?”

EMMA: “no.”

I did a mental eye roll and then a new messaged popped up.

EMMA:  “when i go out to the barn she stands still and munches on hay. when i go inside she starts pacing and breathing hard.”

ME:  “stay out of the barn until she is down on the ground. i know from experience when you’re in labor you just want to be left alone.”

EMMA: “mom…really?…TMI.”

(For those of you not up on the acronym lingo, TMI stands for ‘Too Much Information.’)  I giggled and tossed my phone in my purse.  I would wait.  Good things come to those who wait.

When we returned home from our meeting, we anticipated a mare lying in her stall, but no…Baby stood in the corner, tossing her head at us.  Lifting her nose and curling her lips, she glared at us in defiance as if to say “GET OUT OF MY BARN!”

11:00 p.m.: still no foal. Cowboy scheduled “foal watch” with Girl 1 and Girl 2, and we headed to bed.

12:21 p.m.: I was rudely awakened by a slamming door and sat straight up in bed. I muttered to Brian “I think we have a baby,” as I heard boots running through the family room and up the stairs.  Girl 1 poked her head in the bedroom door, “DAD!  THERE’S A FOAL ON THE GROUND!” Then she turned on her heel and ran back down the stairs.

Cowboy laid, breathing deeply, no movement.  I reached out and touched him, “Brian…there’s a foal on the ground.”  He turned toward me, but laid silent. 

“Brian, are you awake?  Honey, Baby had her foal….” 

Slowly he sat up, and I could see him trying to clear his head.  He stood, walked to the bedroom door, closed it, then returned to the foot of the bed and looked at me. 

“Honey, turn on the light and get your clothes on,” I said, “Do you know what’s happening?” 

“Ummmm…yeah…something is in the house…?”

“No dear, it’s the foal.  Baby had her foal.”

“What?! How in the devil did it get in the HOUSE?"!”

Okay, this is where I realized some SERIOUS intervention would be necessary…so I got a little loud…

“BRIAN! GET YOUR CLOTHES ON AND GO TO THE BARN; THERE’S A FOAL ON THE GROUND!”

That did it.  He jumped as if shocked by a ‘ZAP!’  “Oh my GOSH!”  He grabbed his pants and his boots and took off for the barn.

By the time we reached the barn, the foal was on the ground, Baby was standing over him.  Within minutes, Pablo was up on his long wobbly legs, trying to get around to his momma, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to nurse.  So we waited…and waited…and waited…

At 2:00 a.m., Pablo was still standing, pacing back and forth in the stall, and he still hadn’t found the path to the udder.  I announced I was going back to bed. “I hope he figures out how to nurse soon,” I said, “he sure is a strong little guy; he hasn’t laid down yet!”

At 2:15 a.m., Brian joined me in the bedroom.  “The girls are going to watch him until he starts nursing.  I need some sleep.”

At 2:30 a.m., Lindsay popped her head in the door, “Dad, he’s still not nursing and he won’t lay down either.”  Brian sighed deeply and said “Can you give me about 30 more minutes?”  She could.  She did.  3:00 a.m. came around pretty quickly, and she knocked on the door once again.  “Dad…?  Still nothing…I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.”  Once again, Cowboy rose, pulled on his pants and boots, and headed back to the barn.

At 5:00 a.m., I went out to see if I could relieve him and give him a chance to sleep.  Church would be starting in 5 short hours, and Cowboy was going to have to preach.  He really needed some rest.  When I got to the barn, he was on his knees milking Baby, trying to save as much of that all-important colostrum he could save.  “He still can’t do it, and he still has not laid down. Dummy Foal Syndrome. I called the vet.”  Three hours later, still no nursing, still no laying down, still no vet.  But good things come to those who wait.  Patiently.  Or…not so patiently. 

At 9:00 a.m., the vet finally arrived to a very sleepy (but still refusing to lie down) and quickly dehydrating (nine hours, no nourishment) foal.  Doc took a quick look, said “He’s too pretty to let anything happen to him, let’s fix this!” And in short order, the colt was tubed, the momma milked, and colostrum distributed directly into the colt’s stomach.  Pablo soon found his way to the ground, took his first nap, and we waited.  At 11:15 a.m., he stood and nursed for the first time!  See…good things come to those who wait!

Following church I asked Cowboy to lay down and nap for a while, but he insisted he would be fine.  I don’t know how he did it, but he got through the day on about 2 hours of sleep.  At 8:45 p.m., his head hit the pillow and he was out like a light. I wish I could say the story ends there.  But no.  At 9:00 p.m., there was a soft knock on our bedroom door, and Girl 2 peeked in.  “Dad…?  You awake…?  Pablo is constipated and really straining.  I think he needs an enema.”  From the lump next to me came a low rumbling growl.  Cowboy sat up…pulled on his pants and boots…mumbled “why do I DO this?” and he descended the stairs, journeying again to the barn.

And guess what…?  We are expecting foal #2 any day!  Good things come to those who wait.