The irony precludes a sad, sad day

It was this past Friday morning when I met Lauren to go for a run with our dogs. Pleasant and easy going. Afterwards we would go to Kroger, and grocery shop. To keep this nice morning going, we would turn it into a lunch at a local Mexican food restaurant, where David would meet us and we all enjoy a meal together. Relaxing, catching up from the week, and connecting with each other was on the menu. David had been out of town, and Lauren had a date that past week - both of which we would review. Both Lauren and David had had experiences the past week that were related - whereby acquaintances (Lauren's date and David's Uber driver) had each ask them similar types of questions, with one in particular that stood out: What is your biggest fear? Little did I know how our answers would provide irony for what was to come.
All three of our answers centered around death and dying. We were fearful of losing each other, how we might lose each other, and the nothing seemed more daunting than death of each other. We talked about how some people fear death themselves, when others fear the death of a loved one. My fear, as a mother, went deeper than the thought of death of a daughter, but the method by which one might die. Yes, I've watched too many Forensic Files, and the method of death is what scares me the most. Torture, struggle, and horrific deaths are something I see on TV, and can't wrap my brain around how families are able to move forward in life after something like that happens - esp when it involves one of their children. I'm deeply saddened and although I want to, I can't fathom what that must feel like day to day after such a horrific loss of a child. And I do fear that, and vocalized that, while having this morbid conversation at lunch. Basically, we all feared the same - the loss of one of us.
I tend to take it to the next level, and think about the thoughts of how (if) a loved one might die, what they felt like at that time, and how I wasn't there when they needed me the most. The torture parents must go through when deaths like this happen. Replaying it in your head, the What If's, the inability to have foreseen a series of possible events or even worse, not following you're intuition to have done something to help, and made a different choice instead. Okay, Cyndi, reel it back in girl.
As you would expect, we finished our lunch, and headed back to our respective Saturday plans. The conversations that day at lunch, which were many topics, were all tied up in pretty bows as we hugged and said See You Later!
Sunday morning came, and David and I went out to the barn to feed as we do each day. But on this day, the minute I saw Nona, I could tell she had had a kid goat. Why? Because she was much smaller! I looked around, but did not see a baby goat in the barn or lying in the straw. That's odd. When our sheep had their lambs, they were right beside them. I immediately ran out of the barn to go search the pasture area. I scan the grass, and see it. There's something laying out there. I run quickly to it, and find a baby kid goat wet, cold and lifeless. David is right there with me, and we analyze this baby kid. She's not breathing, she cold, and looks like she was brand new. David grabs her, and we take her inside. He even does CPR on her. But she's already gone. I can't believe it. She has to be alive, as this is some big mistake. Nona is not interested at all in the kid, and I think she's likely licked her somewhat clean, as the sac is not around the little girl. Nona likely realized her little girl was not alive. I'm unable to make any sense of anything at this point. I simply won't accept this baby kid goat is not alive. We should warm her up, we should keep trying, but David says, no, she's dead. But she's perfectly formed. She has a cute nose, markings like Nona, even hooves and everything a little goat has. Eyes closed, and no life in her. I'm still trying to make sense of it.
By now, I'm trying to figure out what happened? Were we not here? Did we miss the "window" of time to help? Did something get her kid? What happened? At this point, David and I both know we will be burying her. The only animal we've lost on the farm yet, were chickens. We had choose not to bury them because predators will dig up buried animals. But I can't not bury this baby kid goat, perfectly formed and so innocent. I don't know how much time passes, and we have an eye on Nona, but she seems unconcerned. So odd. She's not looking for her baby goat, she's out grazing. I just don't get it. Are goats that different from sheep? Because our sheep acted very different - so attentive. It never occurred to me that if this baby kid was stillborn, that maybe a mama goat knows it, and leaves it? I don't know. I just could not grasp that the baby goat was dead. That's not what was to happen. I had never even had that as an option in my head. Never.
David now has a shovel, I remember saying something about getting one. We somehow know we will bury her behind the shed. I get a box, and gently place her inside. Is it too soon? Are we sure she's not alive? Do we wait? I just don't know. David has dug a shallow grave, and I place the box in it. I need to cover it up, and make this terrible tragedy to away. It hurts so bad. I have no idea how much time has passed, I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm not able to think straight. Everything is a blur. I act like things are okay, but they're not. What is happening?
We are still in eyesight of Nona. I could tell it was not long ago that she had the kid goat, probably just before we came out to feed for the morning. The evidence on her back side is all so fresh. This was all happening under our nose. Somehow, now I think I'll walk up to the front pasture real quick and feed the guard dogs there. I do that real quick, it doesn't take long, and as I walk back up the gravel road, I see another kid goat just born, not even minutes ago. She was not there when I walked by minutes earlier. Once again, Nona is nowhere to be found. What is going on?! I quickly run out to get the baby, and upon getting to her, I can tell Nona did clean her face, and not all the body, but some of the body. I picked up the baby, this one a boy, and run inside to wrap him in a towel, and stimulate him to bring him to life. David sees me, and he once again tries to breath life into the goat, and clear an airway for this sweet thing. Nothing. No response, no movement, nothing. What, how can this be? What are we doing wrong? Why can't we help these baby goats? No amount of rubbing with a towel, or trying to clear air into them is working. Once again, no response whatsoever. Not even a flicker of movement. Like these babies were stillborn - no life. But both of them? Is this what happens?
I'm so shocked I cannot make good decisions. All I know is this is nothing like our lambing experience. Is it different with goats? I had researched online about goats having kids, and it all seemed so similar to sheep having lambs. Where did I go wrong?
Sadly, we end up burying this sweet boy in the towel in which we tried to revive him. His body was lifeless - did Nona know this? Hence why she is leaving them? My thoughts are not rational, and they are bouncing all over the place. I immediately think this is all my fault, and I've not done something I should have done. Could I have somehow saved them? I must have missed something? Some time when I wasn't there, or a window of time that was necessary - and I missed it? And it was all happening under our noses, right there. Was I not attentive enough?
It will be much later in the day that I will begin to accept that these twins were stillborn. Something just was not "right". We buried the brother and sister beside each other, behind the shed, and placed heavy stepping stones on top so that no animal will dig them up. I didn't want to do that, but I had to do that. I continue to keep an eye on Nona, and notice she passes the placenta. I'm no baby expert, but that tells me that's the end - and likely no more babies are in her. But I stay outside anyway, to see how she's doing and what she's going to do.
Nona goes about her business of grazing, eating and being with the herd. It's the oddest thing. Does she know she had babies? Does she knows they died? Is that why she's not seemingly concerned? Then it happens, about an hour later. We have been outside, in and out of the barn doing chores, watching Nona, since this whole thing started when we came out to feed. Nona starts calling for her babies. She starts looking for them. Heartbreaking. But it gets worse. She becomes more and more frantic. Her cries become screams. Long screams of pain and loss. The most excruciating sound, and I can hardly bare it. She'll stop, then she'll start again. She's looking everywhere for them. Then, Nona will get distracted, but before long, she's crying for them again - calling out for them to come to her, and listening for their cries so she can find them. She can smell the traces of them. She knows where they were.
Whether her cries are from her heart - or are instinctual - I can feel her pain, cutting through me. Likely, her calls are from her heart and instinct both- as she feels the need for them, the need to feed them, and to nurture them. But that is not meant to be. Sadly, this goes on all day. David and I are outside all day around the farm doing chores, fixing things, moving things, and listening to Nona cry out. It was probably one of the hardest "farm things" I've encountered in quite some time. I never had the notion she may have a stillbirth - and with twins, it just hurt a little more.
So now, all day, I was able to feel (and hear) all the different feelings of loss. I, along with Nona cried off and on - all day. It was too overwhelming for me to hold those baby kid goats, bury them, and listen to Nona cry and call for them all day. Just too much.
The physical and emotional pain that parents must go through, who lose a child, was given to me in only a tiny, small dose today. I did not lose a child, but there's countless people who have. My grief is only a small-scale kind, compared to those who have "real" loss. Yes, loss is loss, but I also know that losing twin goats is not on a comparison scale when it comes to losing a child. I think I've cried all day today partly because I can somehow feel it. That I cry because I know others have - and still are - going through the loss of a child. That feeling is so overwhelming, and my feelings are so fragile, that I cry for them. For those that have experienced that kind of loss. The grieve quietly, while others cannot imagine the pain they feel. OMGoodness. Dear God, I trust that you soothe the souls of those who have had great loss. I thank you for sharing loss with me, so that I can feel the loss that others may feel. If only a tiny understanding, to know what others are dealing with.
The loss of these twin goats turned into much more than that for me. I grieve them, I wish for them, and I feel for Nona. More importantly I feel for parents who have lost their young. It's beyond my understanding how strong they must be to venture on in life.
May God be with them.
Cyndi