Newborn Thisbe
Before I had alpacas, I thought I knew tired. I thought I knew fatigue and even exhaustion. Tired was a long day at work followed by the tedium of making dinner , then a couple of hours of recuperation before you went to bed. Fatigue was a whole week of long days or maybe a weekend hike. Exhaustion was a long day followed by a late night on a deadline-driven multi week project that had me working weekends while still trying to get all my regular household errands done – groceries, housecleaning, paying the bills.
Now I know that I didn’t know squat about exhaustion.
Until it was a matter of life or death, I don’t think I knew how elastic the limits of exhaustion could be. And that comes to what I have been occupied with the past few days. Thursday morning, my dam, Aria, who was 3 1/2 weeks past due, was having contractions when I opened the barn at 6 a.m. It was an unusually painful, wracking labor that kept her kushed or on her side, making moaning sounds when it was at its worst. I called the vet in fears that the baby might be mispositioned. At 9:30 a.m., the vet arrived and discovered the head under one leg, making delivery impossible. The position was corrected and we waited. Still nothing, with Aria continuing to evidence great pain during contractions. Although the feet were out and the nose poised to eject, the vulva was simply not expanding wide enough to allow passage of the head. We guessed the baby was large. By this time, the water had broken and delivery had to occur. With me pulling on the legs , the vet pulled the opening wide enough to extract the head. After that, the baby- a white girl stained profusely with blood from the umbilical cord- came out easily. It was now 11:15 a.m.
As any alpaca breeder knows, this is just the beginning after an extraction like that. The baby was exhausted and weak, and still had not stood up by mid afternoon. One ounce of goats milk was bottle fed to her at 2:30 p.m. to keep her going until she stood up and nursed. Aria was also milked for 10 cc of colostrum. Still no activity from the baby. A temperature reading then showed her temp to be a low 94 degrees. She was hypothermic. After applying a blow dryer for a good half hour, her temperature rose to 98.6 and she started to show some alertness. Aria, on the other hand, was still in pain and received Banamine directly after delivery and then the start of a course of antibiotics. However, she had still not passed her placenta by 4 p.m. Both mom and cria now demanded attention. For Aria, a start of Oxytocin shots every 2 hours to encourage uterine contractions. For the baby, another ounce of goats milk at 4:30 p.m and an attempt to get her nursing by propping her up under mom. She also received an enema with no results. At 5:30 p.m, another attempt and the baby had her first solid nurse. It was hoped that this would also stimulate contractions in Aria to eject the placenta. Aria had started to expel the amniotic fluid in the placenta but not the sac itself. The baby was still not active so another enema was given. Still no results. At this point, the vet recommended oxtyocin shots for Aria through the night and supplementing the cria every 4 hours with goats milk. This can be hard news to hear after a stressful day and at this point, you just accept it and do it. 8 p.m, 10 p.m, 12 a.m. , 2:30 a.m, 4:30 a.m., 7 a.m. – the routine was repeated. Get up, prepare a shot of oxytocin, inject Aria, get the baby on her feet, position her to nurse. Every other time, heat up some goats milk and give to the baby.
By 8 a.m. the next day, Aria still had not passed her placenta but the baby had gained over half a pound. I think it was in the moment I saw the cria’s weight that I thought “it was worth it”. My second thought? I’m not feeling that bad – I’m still functioning ok! Which was great, because I had to haul the mom and baby to the vet’s to have the placenta extracted and an IgG taken on the cria. But despite what could have been, the best possible outcome for a retained placenta was what happened. The vet extracted it manually and it seemed in one piece with both horns. A quick lavage with saline, a syringeful of genomicin, and Aria was declared good to go. And the baby’s IgG came back at 1500 mg!
The cria was still noticeably inactive and I had not seen her pass meconium or even urinate so that evening I gave her a 3rd enema. This time , a large piece of hard fecal matter was ejected and she was immediately active and more alert, acting like a normal healthy cria. I did still get up once during the night Friday to get the baby up and nursing but I think now, she is good to go. I’ll be watching closely for the next few days before I stop monitoring. But for tonight, I am looking forward to catching up on some sleep, though I still plan to get up once to check in on the little one.
I can only marvel at those breeders who have to raise orphaned crias. That’s a test of stamina that I hope never to have to pass. My small two days and nights of anxiety were more than enough to push me to an excessive amount of Excedrin and chocolate.
And as with all challenging experiences, I like to think about the lessons learned from the entire event:
1. Have more than one vet but choose one as the primary
2. Never underestimate the power of a good enema
3. Never question that you can do what needs to be done, just do it
4. Have a kit supplied for the worst possible scenario and hope for the best
5. Have your trailer hooked up and ready to go at the first sign of something wrong
6. Have a support group of breeders
7. Take care of yourself so you can take care of your animals
So now I feel we are pretty much out of the woods. I don’t name a cria until I’m sure. But I’ve gone ahead and given this one her name – an appropriate one. That’s for another post.
The Pacablogger 
