Rosa lost her two lambs. While I remained calm and fulfilled my role as helper, nurse, confidant and mother, I failed to be able to help her fully and had to finally call a vet around noon yesterday.
She went into visible labor around 7 am and the lamb's mouth and toe were visible. A half hour later she had made little progress. I've learned not to jump in too soon, as more damage can be done [I learned this the hard way a few years ago]. I felt as a new mom she might not have known what to do, so gave her an hour. Then I stepped in, but she was so tight, and my small lubricated hand could hardly feel my way around. I did manage to get the whole head out, but it was clearly a dead lamb, and a big one. I tried my best, and so did Rosa.
He gave her an epidermal and had to tube lubricant into her. He got the first lamb out - a huge ram lamb of 15# [about twice the normal size for us]. The twin had never fully formed and was about a pound, a little girl. I felt better when the vet assured me I never would have gotten the ram out on my own, nor would Rosa, mainly due to the size but also because she was bone dry inside - probably because the lambs might have been dead awhile [he could tell from the fluid, I guess].
It was a traumatic day, mainly because Rosa was suffering. I did notice that each time I came in the stall, she tried so hard to push it out, as if I could help her. No pulling worked, we both needed help.
I was dead tired yesterday afternoon after all the chores but felt compelled to put something, anything on paper to honor the lambs, and me. I thought what a gift to have the ability to purge, heal and emote through a drawing to myself - and then turn around a day later and share it with others.
Rosa is in the sun today, letting the earth and medicines help her heal. I have other mothers to be to help and reassure. And a beautiful big chocolate lamb is in the pumpkin patch, with a tiny little sister nestled at his side.
