My Dream Died Tonight

It’s a dark, dark day here.

And yeah, I know these things happen, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Okay, so in years past spring meant LOTS of births around here.  We’ve had years with maybe 30 lambs and a dozen or so goat kids.  But with my chronic pain problems and fibromyalgia, I just couldn’t keep up.  As much as I loved all the little babies, it got to be too much for me to handle.

We sold the breeding stock and my dream of a first class flock of Shetland sheep and herd of cashmere goats, and instead became a retirement home for just a handful of old ewes and doe goats that didn’t need to be bred any more.  All the rams and buck goats gone.  No more babies.

Except I still had a dream. 

You see, we have the sweetest little llama.  She’s on the petite side, and I always thought she’d have the cutest crias.   So even though we phased out raising other 4-legged babies, I really, REALLY wanted to have at least one little cria.  So we bought a male llama.

Now, according to gestation charts, and using the time I saw our llamas breed, we should have had a cria about April 1st.

Obviously, it’s long past April 1st.  I’d about decided our llama was just fat.  I’d been feeding her for two, and it just made her fat sort of deal.

Well, I was wrong.

When we went out to do chores this evening, she was laying down and didn’t move when The Farmer got close.  Most unusual.  So I thought, “Could it be?”

Yep, she was in labor.  Just a bit of the amniotic sac sticking out, with a little dark something in there.  I figured a foot.

I figured wrong.

Upon closer inspection, I thought it was either a tail or an ear.  I got a pair of gloves and felt it, and pushed my fingers inside to see what I could feel. 

NO feet.  Pretty sure that’s an ear, and I’m feeling the side of the head.

NOT good.

But the amniotic sac hadn’t broken, so I figured the cria should still be getting oxygen through the umbilical cord.  We’ve waited a long time for this baby though, and the presentation was way off.   I mean, there wasn’t even a picture in the books of such a presentation!

So I called the vet.  He was sewing up a horse and said he’d be here as soon as he could.  I set to work making sure there were lights and nice hay-strewn shed floors and anything else I could think of we might need.  Including two cameras to be sure I could record this joyous occasion.  Our first cria!

The books I have talk about how easy llamas birth.  In fact, one went so far as to say, “Llama births are easier and more trouble-free than births of any other livestock species.”

Not this time. 

The vet pushed the head back, and rotated things around and got the front feet out.  He tried to pull the baby out.  It wasn’t working.

He ended up putting chains on both legs and pulling the baby out.  It took several tries and a lot of hard work.  Finally he got the little one out and I asked if it was okay.  He informed me it had been dead for some time.

There went my dream.  It literally died.

One very cute, black little girl cria.  Stillborn.

My poor little llama lady was so tired, she barely moved through all this.  She got oxytocin and antibiotic shots.  The vet thinks she’ll be fine.  I sure hope so.

But right now… I’m feeling pretty sorry for both of us.

Tomorrow I have to bury my dream.  I know I’ll water that little grave with a whole lot of tears.

It’s not easy when a dream dies.