Bumps

Last night, Justin was working late for the temp company so I was on duty to feed and water everyone before bedtime. Since we are anticipating the birth of a couple of new kids, I waited in the goat pen to make sure the pregnant does got their share of the feed. We have two does, one of ours and one of our friends' in with Sarah and baby Mary, so that the buck won't bother them while they are trying to give birth. You girls know what I am talking about - there is that point in the delivery where you want to strangle the man that did this to you - and, well, these girls have horns, so they might be able to do some damage!

As I stood there watching Tope, I put my hand on the right side of her belly.It was taught beneath her winter coat. Her udders are swollen with milk, so she must be close. Then I felt the raucous kicking of her little one - or ones, we don't know. The father is either George, the beautiful red and black Nigerian buck or possibly Carmel colored Luke, who was about 5 months old when he was suddenly gone. I am hoping for a Luke-baby.

I have kind of a tactile memory - which is funny because I beat the tar out of my hands with all the dirt-farming I do of late. That baby rolling past my fingertips immediately took me back to the days of being pregnant with my own kids. I remembered being pregnant with Bear, my belly full of possibilty and responsibility all at the same time. I was 20 - who the hell knows how to be a good mom at 20? I loved laying on the bed, with the fan hung over the bed with uncurled coat hangers, and watching that lump of baby roll from one side to another. She was an easy baby and spent most of her rolling time midbelly (as opposed to Jake who was either in my ribs or grinding into my hipbones THE WHOLE TIME). I was so proud of that lump that I was one of those moms who wore dresses showing the bump, instead of the tent kind. I liked getting that pregnancy cleavage, too. I remember wondering if "they" would ever grow, then I got pregnant and whammo - there they were. The new curves were great- and I even wore a two piece suit when I'd go cool off at Lake Monroe after working that double shift at Pizza Hut ( cause the baby was gonna have to eat). I'd go on my break and make garlic bread with fresh mushrooms and tons of mozzerella cheese...mmmmmm sorry you lost me there for a minute.

I broke down and wore a couple of those tent dresses late in the pregnancy, when the July heat was just more than I could bear, but mostly I wore old shirts where I could see her move and feel her little foot against the inside of my belly. She liked John Cougar Mellencamp's Scarecrow album - well of course she did, we were living in Southern Indiana at the time - and she'd really roll about for that.

I felt great when I was pregnant. It seems to be the only time that all my hormones are in alignment. My weight goes down, my skin clears up, and I have tons of energy. That season is past now. In a couple of weeks I'll have a procedure that will probably make me infertile - and while a part of me is sad, I certainly don't have any plans for more babies anytime soon. It's just another twist - so in lieu of more babies of my own, I'll let go of that dream of having 10 kids, and keep working on the reality of mama goats and baby goats and fresh milk and cheese.