… and sometimes I cry.

I intended to write a blog about how deliriously happy I am at the outpouring of support for our Kickstarter (http://kck.st/GW4Yal) project.

As of this moment our Kickstarter video has 180 ‘likes’ from Facebook users. I have never, ever, ever posted something that got 180 likes! All I could do was cheer “They LIKE me! They really, really LIKE me!!”

The fact that 14 of those people also deemed they liked us enough to be worth pledging a contribution to our program made my heart sing an even louder (and equally off key) tune.

Honestly I am moved by the amount of support I’ve seen in just 48 hours… so the blog was going to be about all that. Grateful, Joyful, Giddy!

It isn’t.

This morning as we came into the barn for morning chores a first freshener was in labor. Actually, she was no longer in active labor, but she did have a kid, half out, dying (literally) to be born.

Much to momma’s dismay we helped this now nearly lifeless kid finish its entry to this world.

It wasn’t looking good.

Momma (Yonkers) is doing fine, everything continued and progressed as normal. Baby, still not so much.

We were surprised to see her revive a little bit after 15 minutes of momma’s vigorous attention. We know Yonker’s instincts, although helpful, won’t be enough to save this one.

We bring the poor little girl into our bathroom (the first stop for all baby goats on our farm). Under the warmth of the heater she rests. Her eyes bloodshot from the hard delivery, her abdomen swollen and full of amniotic fluid from being stuck in the birth canal. We weren’t hopeful. We ‘tubed’ her with a bit of colostrum and gave her a taste of NutriDrench and went about finishing chores… there is still plenty to be done on the farm.

Between duties, I would check back in on her. While my husband had to get back to work, I plugged along, heavy hearted, completing task after task until all of the other goats were cared for.

Then I turned my full attention back to this little girl. I went in the bathroom and this little sad sack that was more dead than alive an hour ago, lifted her head and Maaaaah-ed at me. She tried to stand up. I cried.

This little girl is a fighter. She still isn’t out of the woods; however, she is enjoying the place of honor on my lap while I type.  So today, I will fight with her. If she is willing to give me fight, I will help her every way I know how. Tomorrow I will return to being a farmer… today, even though it puts cheesemaking off its schedule, I am hope. Her hope.

Stay tuned for updates… and hope along with us for her full recovery.


About Chief Milkmaid

A former executive, now goatmilker and cheesemaker, I am the Chief Milkmaid of the Little Brown Farm.
This entry was posted in About the Farm, Critters, It's Personal and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to … and sometimes I cry.

  1. gwenbrass says:

    Keeping my fingers crossed for this little one.

  2. gwenbrass says:

    Keeping my fingers crossed this little one makes it.

  3. Dori says:

    Oh…. I am so hoping!

  4. Nancy Robinson says:

    Okay, I’m crying too and praying this sweet little girl makes it. If anyone can save her, it’s you. My Dylan is a testament to that.

  5. Sheri LaVigne says:

    You are amazing Vicky, that little one is lucky to have you with her for however long she’s alive. Much love xoxo

  6. lillian says:


  7. estei says:

    I hope she will pull through. Will send all my early morning energy her way.

  8. Barrows Farm says:

    Hope that she is getting better with each passing day. I know it’s tough to deal with a sick/injured/weak animal and still manage to get sleep and go about your normal routine.

    As for your 180 likes…awesome! Sometimes people do have the capability of surprising us with their support and generosity. Good luck and congrats!

  9. Thank you all for your thoughts, energy, prayers and wishes. Little Hope, in spite of her short little life, left her little hoofprints on our hearts. She has now left us to focus on all the other healthy active babies and mommas around here. In her few short days she showed me more spunk, determination and personality that one could reasonably expect. We will miss her.

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