It took us only a few minutes to realize the Universe had been generous because Marieh was in trouble. There was only one hoof. I quickly called the vet, who listened briefly and headed out her door. She would call back shortly to give us an ETA and get another update.
When I looked again, there were two feet. Two feet, but no nose. There should have been a nose, with the length of leg that was sticking out. I reported to the vet; she told me it was time to get my hands in there and see if I could feel the baby's head, and if possible, to gently assist when Marieh pushed. It would take her about 45 minutes to reach our place.
It's amazing what can be done when it's necessary. Marieh needed help. I had absolutely no idea what "get in there" even meant, and my hands were shaking, but I put on a pair of gloves, rolled up my sleeves, and gently dove in with one arm. There were the knees; further along, after some effort, I found a shoulder. But no neck, no head, no soft nose reaching for the light. This was bad.
My husband, Glenn, stayed at Marieh's head and soothed her. I was with the baby, holding and stroking his legs, telling him how he would definitely have no problem with people picking up his feet after this, and to hang in, everything would get sorted out. Now and then his feet would move as though he was trying to come out. Marieh would push; I would gently encourage forward movement. I made a few more journeys into the birth canal, and finally did feel something that felt like it might be the base of his neck, but it was twisted back.
Time passed. I stroked and crooned to the foal; we listened to the birds together. I told him over and over how incredibly beautiful he was. The little spark that was him got dimmer; I could feel it hanging on by threads. He still tried, though, every now and then, to be born.
Dr. Meg arrived and quickly took over. She tried everything she could to find the foal's head, and was in up to her shoulder, and still, nothing. She was so sad when she told us we were at the point where in order to save Marieh, we would have to let the foal go. I told her to go ahead, and as she broke the amniotic sac the baby's light faded from the body.
After trying again to remove the foal, we all knew we needed help, so Dr. Meg referred us to Pilchuck, a premiere veterinary hospital north of Seattle. It's a two+ hour drive from our house to Pilchuck, so Dr. Meg made Marieh comfortable with sedative and pain killer, and off we went.
The traffic gods were with us; we made the journey in record time, and the Pilchuck vets leaped into action. They anesthesized Marieh to see if they could then remove the foal once her body was completely relaxed. Unfortunately, even they could not find the head, so Marieh headed into surgery for a C-section. The foal was successfully removed and Marieh went on to the recovery room, when she slept for a very long time. At last report, she was on her feet, and looking like she had had a rough day, but doing all right.
The vet at Pilchuck told us that the baby's head was completely twisted back along his body, and it may have been that way for a while, as his jaw was slightly deformed. He was a good-sized fellow, even though his due date was still two weeks out, and it was crowded in there. There was nothing anyone could have done; everything looked normal on the outside until the moment of birth.
If Glenn and I had left for work at our regular time, this could have easily been a double tragedy. My husband and I believe that everything happens for a reason, even when the reason eludes us. The dance among Marieh, sweet little James, and us, has significance on levels we may not even realize for weeks or even years. Right now we are just so happy that Marieh is still with us. We mourn the loss of her absolutely beautiful son, and we know his spirit joyfully continues on.
We can't say enough good things about the vets at Pilchuck, and especially our local vet, Dr. Meg. Thank you all for being part of this process.
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