I Dropped My Blackberry In Placenta
Raising livestock and having a full time job is complicated. Goat kids come when they come. They don’t check with you first to see if you’re busy. The first kids of the year were born this last weekend and it reminded me of one very poignant example of how sometimes raising livestock and having a day job can be....complicated. One of our does went into labor on a week day. I had to be conference call with our staff in D.C. to discuss H.R. 2454, aka the American Clean Energy and Security Act, aka the cap and trade climate change bill, aka the climate change version of the Affordable Care Act, aka a bureaucratic complicated mess of a bill that would have done something but not enough to actually fix the problem. But this post is not about that bill, it is about a goat. So, I put in my headset, went down to the barn and jumped on the conference call. I occasionally chimed in between the grunts and sometimes screams of the goat. I don’t remember exactly what the conversation was about. I just remember it was with D.C. and had to do with the climate change bill. Unmute Me: Well, I just don’t think we are getting anywhere with the xyz. Mute Goat scream Unmute Me: I’m pretty sure Max Baucus doesn’t care about xyz. Mute As her labor progressed, it was clear something was wrong. She’d went into labor over an hour before and all I could see was one little hoof sticking out. I put on rubber gloves, drenched them in an iodine solution and lube and began to gently feel up the kid's leg and try to figure out why the baby was stuck. I found that the head, which should be the first thing that comes out with the front legs, was turned to the side. It was preventing the body from getting through the cervix. Fortunately, this is a fairly easy pull. I slowly pushed the baby back into her uterus to have more room to work, grabbed the head and gently turned it so it’s neck was straight and it was facing forward with the legs. I grabbed onto the front legs and waited. The doe was exhausted. She looked back at me. I knew that she knew I was helping her. She prepared herself, took a breathe and pushed hard one more time while I pulled. The baby slide out easily into my arms along with the placenta and all of the birth fluids. It's a wonderful moment and it never gets old. However, I was still on the conference call and I forgot that my Blackberry was in the front pocket of my shirt, unsecured by a button.
As I stood up from a kneel to take the baby up near the mom’s head so she could clean her off, my phone slipped out of my shirt pocket and landed directly in the pile of placenta that was laying in the straw.The headset remained attached. It was at that moment that I heard someone say my name. “Alexis? Are you there?” I’ve got a slippery baby in my arms, my phone is on mute and I haven’t been paying attention for 20 minutes. I put the baby down with her mom, pulled off my latex gloves, grabbed the phone, which was now gooey with straw stuck all over it, wiped it against my jeans and hit unmute. “Yep, I’m here, sorry about that.” Expectant silence. “Did you hear the question?” “Uhhh...no. Things got a little hectic here. Can you repeat it?” “What happened?” “Well, I dropped my Blackberry in placenta.” Silence. There's really nothing to say after that, is there? ************