I am on cria watch. The expectant dam is a first time mom named Aria. I purchased Aria when she was just three months old. Now, over two years later, she is finally due with her first baby. Although the years have flown by, they feel now in memory like an eternity. During cria watch, time stretches out to agonizing slowness.
I think each time I go through this for first timers, especially for the highly anticipated births, there is a set emotional pattern that occurs that takes me from emotional highs to tragic lows. I always think about Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’s Five Phases of Grieving because the end phase is the same though applied to the opposite extremes of the life cycle. Here we are talking about awaiting a new life versus mourning the end of one.
You have to view the span of emotions with some humor. To me, cria watch is the ultimate lesson that teaches us how our wills are nothing in the face of one lazy, fat cow of a dam. When it comes, it comes.
1. Anticipation
The due date is arriving. In my mind, I envision the cria in reality just as I’ve imagined it for the past eleven months. Longer even, because that image first formed in my mind when I decided on the breeding. I’ve had almost a year to refine the details and sharpen the picture, even think of names. I call the baby by name when I see it move, just to see how it feels. I scan the mom for any sign of discomfort. Are you humming? Did the baby turn? I try to see if she is bagging with milk. This goes on for days. I clear my calendar so I can be at home until late afternoon every day.
2. Bargaining
The due date has come and past. The dam still shows no signs of discomfort. I can see the baby moving but then it settles again. She is chewing her cud like she doesn’t have a care in the world. I tell her that when she has the baby, I’ll let her out into pasture again, where lusciously tender blades await her. She’ll get as much alfalfa as she wants to fuel her milk production. I start to contemplate the possibility that the baby may not be as I wished – if it’s a boy vs a girl. If it’s white vs. a fawn. Considering that, I start to juggle what the other expectant dams should have to compensate. As if I can rebalance the scales before they’ve even been tipped.
3. Denial
She is over a week due. I can’t believe it. Was the breeding date accurate? Am I sure she is pregnant? If she isn’t, she has a large tumor attached to her belly and is grossly obese. My mind flies back to if I remembered a time when she was uncomfortable from the baby turning. How long ago was that? The baby should be here.
4. Anger
I am way tired of being trapped in this house every morning and running up there every hour or so only to have my hopes dashed. She is bagged but still no baby. I don’t believe it! Why won’t she just pop the dang thing out? I want to just yank it out or pop out from behind hay feeders to scare her into labor. Drop the baby, drop the baby! I scream at her. My patience is at an end and I’m raging. Raging over the loss of something that I have yet to have.
5. Acceptance
It’s now two weeks past the due date. I am worn out from ranting. I mosey up to the barn every couple of hours without expectation. I’ll be ready when it comes. I’ll try to be here. I hope only that the baby will be healthy and the delivery easy. Maybe I’ll run some errands while I have a few free hours. What are the odds the baby will arrive while I am gone? I’ll be back in time, no big deal.
When it comes, it comes.
The Pacablogger 