05/10/2026
This is about motherhood, and Newt, one of the sweetest goats in the barn. She’s one of our best milkers, for volume and for disposition. She’s calm, dedicated, loves a snuggle and has the softest eyes. For the last three years, she’s had tragedy at birthing time— two years ago she lost her single baby, a stillbirth; last year she had twins and one died in a freak accident in the barn, and this year another stillborn, a perfect baby that lost its chance before it began. I was there this time, and couldn’t bear the loss again for this dear animal that loves mothering. I think she knew, something was up. I tried so hard to bring that baby back but there wasn’t a chance.
In our barn, on our farm, we’ve found ways to successfully raise up the lambs and kids in the best way we know how. We love the relationships of mothers and babies, watching how the babies grow, see the mothers nurture, worry, teach, love their little ones. But we’ve also mitigated some disasters, found that not everybody is equally good at mothering, sometimes there’s not enough milk, or the babies are very competitive. It’s a constant watch, a challenge and such an intense, frustrating, marvelous time of year. In our barn, we’ve found that leaving more than two babies with a mum leads to more problems, and there’s enough going on that we might not catch problems in time. So when there’s multiples, we leave the two most matched babies with mom and tuck the extra one/ones into a blanket and raise them up ourselves. There’s a lot of variations on this… for another day!
Back to Newt. I’m there, she’s lost the baby, there’s already heartbreak. And I have an opportunity. We’ve got a couple of “bathtub babies” at the house. Minerva was a tiny triplet, was never going to figure out how to get onto the milk bar with mom, competing with two much larger siblings. And Junior was huge! Way bigger than his two sisters. So they were learning about milk in a bottle and the joys of cuddles and furniture to jump on— and nights in a box in the bathtub.
We scooped up the bathtub babies and covered them with everything I could find that Newt had delivered, to make them smell like her. Wrapped the lost baby around Junior to slow him down, and tucked them underneath Newt. Crossed fingers, and toes. And stepped away.
She knew, I know she knew, that she didn’t have three, that two of them weren’t hers. But the light in her eyes when she saw what she had, made the world make sense. She loves those two mismatched babies, so much. She’s their mother. Minerva figured out nursing from Newt so fast, and finally stopped searching for milk. Junior is now a little giant. Newt might just be the most fulfilled goat in the barn. I’m proud of her, and I’m in awe of motherhood. It’s all the things, love and loss and joy and sorrow and worry and laughter and pride and holding on tight and letting go. Motherhood is everything.
My love and awe and gratitude goes out to every mother out there on this Mothers’ Day.
