Last Friday when I wrote, we had a goat, Oreo is her name, who was in labor. About midnight Cedar came into my room where I was sleeping and asked if I could go out in the barn with Dad. Oreo had two little kids and was struggling with the third. I had been sleeping because I had sinus surgery on Wednesday and was still in recovery mode--still am. Anyway I went out to the barn. Oreo had the first two just fine. The first one was kind of slow and had not figured out how to drink from momma, but the second one had. The problem is the third one was backwards, with only one leg sticking out. Brett tried to maneuver it around, but our goats are pretty small. When I got out there she had been working on it for about 45 minutes and was plumb tuckered. We called our neighbor, who was wonderfully gracious at midnight and came right over to help out. He tied a little string on the leg and he pulled while Brett held onto Oreo and the little kid came out pretty quick. Her momma wanted nothing to do with her. She was pretty weak and tired, so we took her in and Faith volunteered to feed, warm and watch it through the night. She made it and is still alive and eating well, but seem to have little control over her legs. They flail about and it looks like she is swimming. I am not sure what will become of her.
Here is a picture of Oreo with her first two kids. It is kind of hard to see.
This morning the girls went out to check on the little goats. They brought the oldest one in, the one who had a hard time figuring out how to drink from momma. It was hardly moving. We tried to feed it, but it wouldn't eat. So I had to do one of the hardest things about living on a farm. I put the poor little animal out of its misery. I do not know what happened to it, and I am not looking forward to the kids coming home from school and having to tell them what happened, but it is all part of living on a small farm. Most of the older kids have seen some kind of animal be born and we have all seen them sick and all participated in burying their little bodies. It makes life so real.
Last Sunday I was getting ready for Church and Isaac was with me. Out of the blue he said, "Mom, I wish when we died we just came right back to life." He had been missing his grandpa who passed away just before Christmas. I am so grateful that he had the opportunity to know his "Pops". I am also grateful for the gospel and the knowledge and comfort it gives us. Knowing that someday we will be with those who have gone.
The kids have a childrens book and it says that someone who has died has not gone, they have just gone on ahead. I kind of like that little thought.
