There I was, in my hometown visiting our parents, having a blast getting together with beloved old friends, bonding with my siblings as our children were elated with this visit they have been anticipating all year long when I got a call from our house sitter; “Congratulations! Daisy had a girl!”
I was elated. Until the but came.
“But she won’t stand up“. Ugh. My heart sank.
I’m no cow expert but I knew that wasn’t good.
I then proceeded to hyper-ventilate when after talking with my cow mentors that the situation was beginning to look dire because she might be experiencing milk fever which can be life threatening. I called the vet to arrange an emergency visit at 5 am that morning and I started packing my bags. I left the kids and Craig there with Grandma due to their much fun having (Craig loves her giant crayons because they accommodate his sausage-like fingers).
The house sitter picked me up at the airport.
My eyes and nose were pink from crying the whole flight.
I was scared about losing the best family cow on Earth, sad about cutting the visit with my own mom short (we were planning on shooting another video together), feeling weird about leaving my kids without having time to set up the nanny-cam to monitor their sugar intake without me around and, quite frankly, this is my prime pms time; having the hormonal powers to turn me into a giant crybaby at the best of times.
And then I came home to Daisy looking so sad and paralyzed.
Baby Buttercup in contrast was prancing around the pasture; as happy as can be. So evidently smitten with being alive. The sad bits came when Buttercup would get hungry. She didn’t moo much but when she was hungry she did and it is the softest, squishiest sound in the world you could imagine. In her hunger she would suck on all these different Down for the Count Daisy parts looking for a teet. These were tricky to access because Daisy was lying down on three of her four.
Then Mr Meatballs would come around and Buttercup tried suckling on where his meatballs use to be and then Daisy, who’s also not much of a moo-er, would call her softly with a gentle “I’m here, baby” kind of plea.
Made me cry deeper to about fifty shades of pink eye.
It was so sad. And awkward. It was like, dude, that’s your half-brother.
But I was able to milk a bit out of Daisy while she was lying there and then transferred the colostrum to a bottle and was feeding Buttercup that way all day yesterday. But, the little stinker, I witnessed later in the evening her suckling from Daisy in that compromised position! Explained all her bounciness.
The vet and cow mentors were scratching their heads as to why she was down but a sweet old timer from down the street came over and he reassured me in his gentle, confident with decades of experience way that she’s fine; just needs time to recoup.
As soon as he said that the tears stopped.
And he was right. In the morning I awoke to find mama and baby standing in the pasture together right as rain. I like to attribute this to her innate mama cow wisdom and my lying down with her last night, clinging to her neck, bawling while demanding her to stand up for the sake of her daughter and for the love of me and my lattes (kidding about that last bit).
Before turning out the light last night, though I was extremely exhausted, I was reading a bit of The Sun magazine and stumbled upon this quote:
Crying is one of the highest devotional songs. One who knows crying knows spiritual practice. If you can cry with a pure heart, nothing else compares to such a prayer. Crying includes all the principles of yoga. ~Swami Kripalvanandji
Crying: the new yoga.
Who would have thunk it. How about you? What’s your form of prayer in times of worry and/or crisis?
Off to check on Team Cute again. Thanks to all for the thoughts and prayers to accompany my tears!