the Soak 'n Relax

 They say that life is one darn thing after another....it's not true. It's the same darn thing over and over! At least that's what I thought after answering an early morning phone call from my husband. It was still dark and I was making our morning drinks (coffee for me, cocoa for him and chai for the kids) while he went out to start the morning chores. The ducks get awful cranky if they think we're getting breakfast before them. As the coffee aroma filled the kitchen, I was making a list of for the day—when the shrill ring of my phone hit the pit of my stomach, and I knew whatever was coming was going to change my day. “I need help with the gate, we have a frozen lamb.” I dropped the phone onto the table, hot drinks forgotten. We knew the drill. One kid ran to get the gate, the other went for the “sheep towels” and I began drawing a bath. Negative temperatures and baby lambs aren't the best mix. I was expecting a newborn when my husband walked through the door, I was surprised to see an older lamb frozen in his arms. “I found her in the snow behind the barn.” She was too big for me to hold in the bathtub alone, and our bathtub is pretty small for us both to be holding her. We ended up laying her on a large beach towel and using it as a hammock to get her in the warm water. I rubber her until my back was aching, and my husbands arm's started to quiver. A friend told me that there's a rumor going around my barn that "if any of the animals do  stupid things, they'll get a week pampered at Brianna's Soak 'n Relax." She may have been soaking, but the only other response from her was blinking. We dried her off and laid her in front of the fireplace. The rest of the day I spent rubbing her legs with warm towels and keeping a bit of colostrum in her. My grandmother would when she was trying to keep an animal that “at least it had a full tummy.” I quickly internalized that dying isn't the worst thing that could happen—it's dying with an empty stomach. I've always tried to avoid that at all costs. Hour after hour, I sat beside the fire rubbing her, rolling her over and talking to her. Many times, I'd put my hand on her chest, sure she had drawn her last breath, only to see her suddenly take another long gulp. Being homeschooled, the kids know snow days aren't a thing at our house...but frozen lamb days are always school-free. My oldest went off to powder coat the tow hooks on his pick-up, and my littlest got to spend the day loading hay. When everyone came in that evening, I still hadn't even drank my morning coffee, and the lamb looked nearly the same—only cleaner. “When I die, I want to come back as a sick lamb,” my husband announced cheerfully. “I'd get to lay on your lap in front of the fire and have my legs rubbed all day!” By that evening the lamb was starting to kick and twitch her legs. She still couldn't lift her head or put weight on her feet. When I lifted her up, she just hung limp. I didn't know if the kicking was a sign she was getting feeling back in her legs? Or seizing before she died. It could have been either. But whatever was causing it, when it happened she would roll slightly onto her back and I was afraid she'd suffocate. That night, that same friend texted to remind me that since it was Valentine's I probably shouldn't let the lamb sleep between my husband and I. I was quick to assure her, that our room was much to cold for the baby lamb— so instead we were going to sleep next to her on the hardwood floor in front of the fireplace. It was a long night. But she lived through it. By the third night, she could lift up her head—and since our necks were stiff now, we moved her to our room at nights. Five days later she could get drink by herself. That's when we named her Elsa—because she was “frozen.” My husband said maybe if I would have given her “true  love's kiss” I might have thawed her heart out sooner. I told him to just “let it go!” But whether life is one darn thing after another, or the same darn thing over and over again—I'm sure most people with livestock will agree that life is definitely one long process of getting tired!