I went out yesterday afternoon to feed and water the ewes and there in Scouts pen was what I thought was a dead baby. Head buried under hay in the corner of the pen, folded in half only her back legs and tail were visible. I was heartbroken. I picked the baby up, and though she was cold to the touch and covered in dried birth goo (I'm fairly sure that's the official term) as I walked out of the pen with her in my arms I realized she was still breathing. I ran to the house with her as fast as my little legs could carry us. I warmed her up and cleaned her off, desperate to get her going enough to get some much needed colostrum into her. Once she was clean and warm I took her back out to Scout, where I quickly learned why she ended up crumpled in a corner. Scout had rejected her entirely, when I took her in to try to get her to nurse Scout tried to head but her away. So I tied Scout up and held her against the wall. It was to no avail. The baby had a head that was all swollen from a difficult lambing and was unable to suck. I tried to milk Scout myself which is when I realized that she didn't have any milk. Her udders were small and empty.
I realize that I'm going to have to bottle feed the store bought colostrum. Baby lamb and I run back to the house. I mix up the colostrum in a frenzied almost manic way and get the bottle. She can't suck. She can't stand. I tear through the house ripping apart any and everything in search of a medicine dropper, nothing. I find a turkey baster, that doesn't work well. I tear through the house again and find an old visine bottle. Tear it open wash it out and start the drip feeding, 15mL at a time.
I know that I need to get more in her and fairly fast because I don't know what time she was born and the colostrum is best a few hours after they're born, without colostrum in the first 24 hours she will die. I call the vet. Rush her in, the vet tube feeds her and shows me how to insert the tube through her mouth and into the esophagus. The vet gives her a shot to help with the swelling but tells me not to get too attached as she's very small and has a number of hurdles to overcome already. Her legs are so swollen from being crumpled up and cold that she may not be able to stand without splints or wrapping. Her face is swollen, she was hypothermic.
I pick Dylan up and we head home with our fragile little baby. Before we go home we stop and pick up diapers for her, and some smaller baby bottles hoping the smaller nipple will be easier for her. I clearly look a mess, my norm these days. The lady at the till says, "oh, I remember these runs" as she rings up my baby supplies, "I do not miss that at all." "It's for a lamb." She stares and I realize that I've made her feel weird, but I'm too tired and stressed to care. We are already attached. The moment I realized that I may be able to save her we were attached. I sleep on the couch with her in a bin on top of a heated dog mat, I give her my most coveted possession. My heated blanket. I wake up every couple hours to feed her, we've been able to get her to to suck on a bottle a few times so we're making progress.
Scout at this point has still not let down any milk, so now we're on a hunt for people nearby with nursing sheep. I've taken some from Calpernia, but the vet advised me not to take too much as she has twins and may have difficulty producing enough for all three.
I thought it would be so cute and fun to have a bottle baby. It is neither cute nor fun. I am a puddle of love and dread. If love alone will save her, she will be okay.
Dylan, Mr. Tough Guy suggested at what point we keep her in the bed with us. Which was the first time I laughed all day. He won't even let our dogs in the bedroom, let alone on the bed but he's willing to let a baby barn animal in there with us. He refers her as our "sweet baby angel sheep". It seems neither one of us have heeded the vets recommendations.
In case you were wondering, that is a sock that I've cut up to put on her in hopes of keeping her warm. One of my fuzzy warm socks. Another one of my treasured possessions. My life has gone to the sheep it seems.
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