Loss for Words © Tom O'Brien

Published in Mattawa Recorder, May 2005.


I'm not often without the ability to speak. Allow me to inform you of the last time.

It was last Saturday when Kathryn came back from a 2-week job with her previous employer. Before she left, I was given strict instructions not to touch any brand new goat kids as they entered this world.

I had always objected to such curtailment of my professional abilities. After all I had read many Internet articles about the subject. I reckoned the goat meat industry would soon need me for consultations. Over the previous 2 years, I was only allowed to witness the new arrivals. Often I heard that frigid blast, "Tom, ... DON'T touch that BABY."

I accomplished many important things over those 2 lonely weeks of bachelorhood. I did not starve. I kept the kitchen floor clear of barnyard evidence, and, when necessary I washed my fork.

Kaden, our soon-to-be new goat-mother received constant attention. On numerous occasions I ran my expert hands over her flanks and concluded that she was about to give birth to a very large doeling at any minute. It also had a huge head, which meant that I needed new latex gloves, fresh rubbing alcohol, and at least a quart of obstetrics grease. To heck with what Kath ordered. This could be a difficult breach birth and the correct procedures must be followed.

Over that 2-week period, Kaden would often lie down beside the big round bale of hay and moan. Ah, I concluded, now is the time, and I'd clean a long piece of straw to insert into the baby's nose if it was sleepy on arrival. Then Kaden would get up, shake her head, and laugh at me.

I slept with the bedroom window wide open. At the first whimper of any Kaden-sound, I'd run down the slippery stairs to the maternity shed in my housecoat and bare feet. She would wink at me and flash a devilish smile. After three such episodes I knew what she was saying, "Gotcha again eh Tom Tom!"

It was mid afternoon of last Thursday that she started showing the more advanced indications. Lying on her left side, she would make long sweeping movements with her hind legs. Ah, I said to myself, now she is getting real serious. She's nest-making! Yup, she was nest making all right. She swept the floor right down to the mother earth! On Friday she walked. And walked. Around and around she silently trod the clay loam floor without chewing any cud. I concluded she had something on her mind.

On Saturday morning Kathryn called and asked me to get some chicken dinner and that she'd be home in the early evening. Our granddaughter, Rozzy, and great granddaughter Gabriella were coming to spend the week with us. Sure, I said, and I swept the kitchen floor just to show that I am a fully trained housekeeper.

Then at 4 o'clock I remembered that a horse race was on TV and that the house needed a major cleanup. First things first. I said to myself, and out I ventured to cast an eye on Kaden. Hmmmm, I said to myself, why are her eyes white while her one horn scratches her shoulder blade? Why is her abdomen pulsating behind her ribs? I wonder what's going on?

After the race, I peered in on the patient. Oh No! Something must be wrong I thought, as she twisted her head in circles. She bulged. Her tongue wagged at me. I am not the daddy, I yelled. I checked my watch. Goodness. Do I stay with her or go get the chicken. I will get heap big trouble if the chicken shop closes before I get there.

Ahhh, she's chewing her cud so she won't deliver for at least an hour. I jumped into our truck and sped to town. After completing the take-out dinner purchase, I wasted no time getting back to our farm.

Too late.

As I walked close to the wire fence 'Maternity Ward' our great
granddaughter screamed, "Where were YOU?" Our granddaughter said something about men never being around when they are needed.

As Kathryn removed my new latex gloves from her hands, she looked at me with that stern look that makes me feel inferior.

"I had to assist Kaden since the heads on her 2 sons are so big," and she paused, inhaled deeply, and continued. "Believe me, there's nothing to it!"

Then she stopped and struck a pose worthy of any soap opera, "You owe me 10 dollars," she said with a big wide smile while her finger pointed at me, "you TOLD me she'd have ONE big daughter and look, TWO huge sons!"

I tried to say something but the words dried in my throat. I gulped. I stood on one leg, then the other.

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