luna in labor
We'd been checking on her every couple of hours for days, then every hour that day. Before her lambs dropped into position, we'd been seeing their feet and heads and bottoms push at her belly, rippling her wool like waves along her sides as they did. We marvelled at all of this, how vigorous her lamb, or more likely, lambs were, even inside of her.
I was going to cut my visits down to every half an hour when she started pawing and scratching at the ground, lying down, then getting up and arching her back. Repeat. That's when I called C to come home and we settled down into the barn for the afternoon and evening.
Over at the house, the boys fended for themselves, making waffles for all of us for dinner.
By around 9 pm. she was still at it. Her pushing had been strong for a long time, and then became less so, with her resting times becoming longer in between. It looked like she was losing strength and we were seeing no visible change or progress.
Last year, the one single night during lambing when none of the ewes were showing any signs of impending labor, we decided to let ourselves sleep through the night. No alarms set. No taking turns crawling out of our warm bed, getting bundled up in coat, hat, mittens, socks, boots & headlamp, and no going out to the barn to check, to stand in the cold and darkness to watch as long as necessary for any signs, before reversing the process, resetting the alarm, and then falling into bed for another hour or two.
The following morning we found Luna in labor, with a single, large, lamb half way out. C helped pull the lamb but it was dead. Who knows how long during that night she'd been lying there trying to push it out? Poor mama. She was so tired. We had to pin her down and milk her off for several days afterwards.
We felt as if we'd let her down. That is why we've been keeping such a close eye on her this year. And that is why we finally intervened. The lambs weren't properly positioned for birthing, her cervix wasn't dilating, and they were both big lambs this year again. C went in, worked at slowly stretching her cervix, then at finding the lambs' heads and feet, moved the first one into position, and then, working with her contractions, pulled it out by the head and front feet. It wiggled when it came out, took a breath, and we all stopped holding our own breaths.
As she licked off the first lamb we sat back and gave her a chance - about a half an hour or so - to push the next one out on her own before intervening again. The second was harder apparently. When they say "pull" a lamb, they really mean "PULL" a lamb. While she began licking the second lamb, C checked once again to see that there weren't any more lambs inside her. There was not.
We watched to make sure the lambs were both nursing properly, made sure Luna was eating and drinking again, gave her a energy boost of molasses in her water.
Around midnight, C was about ready to fall over asleep standing there in the barn, and headed back to the house. I stayed, watching for her placenta to pass, but finally called it a night at around 1 a.m. when I could no longer feel my fingers. The sunny spring day had turned into a crisp clear night in the 20 degrees F range.
The following morning, C was worried at Luna's energy levels. She still appeared to be trying to push her placenta out. He 'drenched' her with a water & molasses solution and then went to the vet to get a shot of pitocin to give to her, which would ensure she expels the placenta.
One of the lambs seemed a little weak, too, so we tube fed it a little colostrum milked off of one of the other ewes last week. That probably wasn't necessary, but we were erring on the safe side.
Two days later, we're keeping them confined in the barn, giving them time to rest and recoup from the rough labor.
We are recouping, too.
At least there are no bottle lambs to feed through the night. Hurrah!
luna in labor
We'd been checking on her every couple of hours for days, then every hour that day. Before her lambs dropped into position, we'd been seeing their feet and heads and bottoms push at her belly, rippling her wool like waves along her sides as they did. We marvelled at all of this, how vigorous her lamb, or more likely, lambs were, even inside of her.
I was going to cut my visits down to every half an hour when she started pawing and scratching at the ground, lying down, then getting up and arching her back. Repeat. That's when I called C to come home and we settled down into the barn for the afternoon and evening.
Over at the house, the boys fended for themselves, making waffles for all of us for dinner.
By around 9 pm. she was still at it. Her pushing had been strong for a long time, and then became less so, with her resting times becoming longer in between. It looked like she was losing strength and we were seeing no visible change or progress.
Last year, the one single night during lambing when none of the ewes were showing any signs of impending labor, we decided to let ourselves sleep through the night. No alarms set. No taking turns crawling out of our warm bed, getting bundled up in coat, hat, mittens, socks, boots & headlamp, and no going out to the barn to check, to stand in the cold and darkness to watch as long as necessary for any signs, before reversing the process, resetting the alarm, and then falling into bed for another hour or two.
The following morning we found Luna in labor, with a single, large, lamb half way out. C helped pull the lamb but it was dead. Who knows how long during that night she'd been lying there trying to push it out? Poor mama. She was so tired. We had to pin her down and milk her off for several days afterwards.
We felt as if we'd let her down. That is why we've been keeping such a close eye on her this year. And that is why we finally intervened. The lambs weren't properly positioned for birthing, her cervix wasn't dilating, and they were both big lambs this year again. C went in, worked at slowly stretching her cervix, then at finding the lambs' heads and feet, moved the first one into position, and then, working with her contractions, pulled it out by the head and front feet. It wiggled when it came out, took a breath, and we all stopped holding our own breaths.
As she licked off the first lamb we sat back and gave her a chance - about a half an hour or so - to push the next one out on her own before intervening again. The second was harder apparently. When they say "pull" a lamb, they really mean "PULL" a lamb. While she began licking the second lamb, C checked once again to see that there weren't any more lambs inside her. There was not.
We watched to make sure the lambs were both nursing properly, made sure Luna was eating and drinking again, gave her a energy boost of molasses in her water.
Around midnight, C was about ready to fall over asleep standing there in the barn, and headed back to the house. I stayed, watching for her placenta to pass, but finally called it a night at around 1 a.m. when I could no longer feel my fingers. The sunny spring day had turned into a crisp clear night in the 20 degrees F range.
The following morning, C was worried at Luna's energy levels. She still appeared to be trying to push her placenta out. He 'drenched' her with a water & molasses solution and then went to the vet to get a shot of pitocin to give to her, which would ensure she expels the placenta.
One of the lambs seemed a little weak, too, so we tube fed it a little colostrum milked off of one of the other ewes last week. That probably wasn't necessary, but we were erring on the safe side.
Two days later, we're keeping them confined in the barn, giving them time to rest and recoup from the rough labor.
We are recouping, too.
At least there are no bottle lambs to feed through the night. Hurrah!