Monday, August 28, 2017

Moving to Italy: Birth--Part 2



While my mother-in-law and George watched the unfolding drama in the barn, I ran across the courtyard, into the house, and up the stairs, to check on the children. I briefly considered waking them to watch the birth of the calf, but it was nearly midnight and I had no idea how long the labor would last. I peeked into their room. Sprawled out in their beds, they looked peaceful, and I couldn’t help but remember the experience of labor with each of their births. I closed the door quietly, grabbed a thicker sweater and a light jacket for George, and ran back down to the barn. 

When I got there, my father-in-law was outside. He told us that the men had decided to try and pull the calf out. It could be dangerous for both animals, but Silvio felt the labor had gone on long enough, and it was time to help out. We took turns watching as they struggled for a while then the waters broke in a huge splash as the men jumped back, laughing. They reached inside the cow’s body to tie a long rope around the calf’s legs. From our shared doorway view, we could see only the rope and the backs of the men as they worked. As contractions shook the cow’s body, the men, including Marino, stood together along the rope and pulled hard. Soon, they called in George to help

As the five men pulled on the rope, the sweat poured off them, man and animal alike, and the heat radiating through the slot of the doorway felt like that from an oven. They watched for the cow to spasm into a contraction then everyone pulled hard again. It took much longer than I would have thought, and I could only pity the poor cow suffering through it all. Finally, they gave a hearty pull and the calf slid out. For a moment we gasped in awe at the new life lying wet and still in the hay. Then it bleated and kicked, and we all cheered. 

Zio Silvio dragged and pushed the calf close enough so the mother cow could lick it. She raised her head and struggled weakly to get up while the calf wobbled beside her. My sympathies were with the mother as I remembered my own overwhelming exhaustion after giving birth.

The excitement over, we waved congratulations to Zio Silvio, said goodbye to the neighbors, and climbed the stairs to bed, still exhilarated. It is very strange how a birth generates joy amongst even the most indifferent of people. That transition from the inside womb to the outside world is a wonderful but stressful moment. Anything can happen. The watchful tension around the newborn, human or animal, is palpable until it begins to breathe and cry on its own. And then relief and joy are stupendous.

The next morning the children peeked into the barn to see the new calf. They weren't allowed to enter as the mother was very nervous. Marino reported that the cow was doing well and that the calf was a male. That meant it would be kept for about a year and then sold, perhaps for our Christmas roast. I tried to ignore that last bit. It was easier not to consider the reality of the animal’s short life and my part in its demise.
The barn at Gabi

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