**Hmmmm…this was a post from nearly two years ago, that for some reason reposted…?

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Weird title, right?

A month before my due date, I went out on an emergency call with my good friend who is a large-animal vet.

Boy was that an education.

She was responding to a panicked call from a dairy farmer whose prize cow had been in labor for days and wasn’t progressing.  As I learned, cows (and most animals) can pretty much be left alone to labor, unless there’s a problem.

As we learned when we arrived and my friend stuck her entire arm up the cow’s woohoo (I promise not to use stupid names to teach Gray anatomy, but at this point I’m still too immature) was that there were not one but two calves in there, both breach.

Along with us was another good friend who was in town visiting, in med school and starting her residency.  Therefore, of course this medical challenge was fascinating to her, as she can talk the talk.

I, however, was the huge pregnant lady cowering in the corner of the barn, wondering why they didn’t put a blanket on the cow to keep her warm, and slightly pissed that the lights weren’t kept lower nor was there soothing music being pumped through the barn for the poor mama.  Where was the flipping hypnobirthing cd?

I’ll spare you the many details, but at one point my fearless and incredible vet friend walked over to me and quietly said, ‘I’m about to deliver the calves, and they’re both probably going to be stillborn…are you okay, or do you want to leave?”

Sweet, sweet friend who knows me well enough to know I can’t stand anything sad happening to any living breathing creature, and who knew I was a mere week or two away from looking like that cow, and wanting to spare me the probable sadness that was coming.

Much to both of our surprises, I stayed.

I stayed for the same reason that I someday want to become a Hospice volunteer, not because I’m so incredibly tough, but just the opposite. I have such a hard time with death that it hits me really hard when I’m faced with it, and I know I need to come face to face with it.

Sadly, neither calf was alive when they arrived, though I kept secretly hoping that they would jump up and it’d be like watching a scene from a Disney movie as they tried to walk around the barn.  My friend put them in front of the mama so that she could have a last-ditch effort, but despite her licking and nudging, they were gone.

Standing in that barn with my doctor friends and tough Vermont farmers who have seen it all, I had tears streaming down my face.  I was glad I stayed, but I’ll never forget that poor cow trying to coax her babies to life.  I cannot imagine a worse feeling.

I know too many people who are having a hard time getting pregnant, or who have had complications along the way.  There are no words for how lucky I feel to have gone full-term and delivered a healthy baby boy, and with that experience comes the appreciation for just how precious, and fragile, life is.

Thinking back on that early morning in the barn, I was HUGE with ‘Bundle’ and had no idea what lay ahead, as I watched my worst nightmare unfold in animal form in front of me.  I guess you never know what life will hand you, or why things happen.  

Sad, hard things happen to good people.  And cows.  But good things happen too.

Today, my friend walked into my office and pressed ‘play’ on his iphone….it was the recording of his baby’s heartbeat, due to arrive in July.  I couldn’t help the tears that sprang to my eyes, remembering that same moment when we heard Gray’s heartbeat, and thinking about what lies ahead for my friends as they count down the days till their little bundle arrives.

Though we didn’t stay in touch, I’m ever-hopeful that that mama cow from last spring has had several healthy, happy calves since that sad blustery day.  She deserves it, and so do the many wonderful families out there who want so badly to have a baby.