I had been expecting Lucy to have her puppies any day all week. She has been tired and HUGE and just overall uncomfortable. Thursday night during our bi-weekly Bible study she paced the house, panting and looking mournfully at me. “Don’t you think she’s in labor?” a friend asked. “She’s been like this all week, poor thing. It has to be any day now!!” I set up the whelping box in the living room that night, sure she would have them throughout the night. And I didn’t get much sleep as she panted and shifted about. In the box, out of the box, on the couch, on the bed, at the door. Poor girl just wanted SOMETHING to happen. By 4am I finally passed out and woke to her scratching at the door about two hours later. No puppies yet… but I knew the pressure she was beginning to feel made her want to go outside to potty all the time. It had to be close!!
The kids had plans with some neighbors that morning and I just knew the moment we left she’d pop one out. Nervously I left her safely in the house, whelping box ready, and took the kids to our friend’s. After about 45 minutes I excused myself and raced home. Surely there would be a puppy waiting for me! I hoped everything was fine, and there wasn't a bloody mess on the couch or some other furniture item.
And there it was as I walked in. Lucy serenely licking a little black and white, whimpering ball, calmly settled in the whelping box like she knew exactly what she was doing. And she did. Her third litter now, she had it figured out and I really had nothing to worry about. She even managed to contain all the mess nicely within the box and on the pad. So, while my kids celebrated Dr. Suess’s birthday a few houses away, I settled onto the couch with a book and watched the whole process over the next several hours. It was peaceful. Which, if you have ever had a houseful of children, peace is not a sensation we generally experience. But I really savored the time alone, with my best friend, while she expertly took care of each little puppy as they came.
She stalled out at 5 puppies (all male!) and I took a minute to go get the kids and a few friends came along. Even though they were a lttle grossed out by the blood and fluids and Lucy eating the placenta, it's still an amazing experience. It’s not every day we get to witness birth! At that point I decided to move her into the laundry room where we usually whelp and getting her moving after a stall in labor is always a good idea. And sure enough there came 3 more puppies, this time all females!
Suddenly the house was full of people coming and going for various Friday evening reasons and I found myself caught up in helping kids get in and out of the house. I peeked in as I could to see if there were any developments and decided to move her again just to be sure she was done. She wouldn’t budge. I finally got her up and over to the other side of the box where she refused again to come out. I relented and, as she seemed relaxed, I left her alone with the pups.
I will never forget the lesson I learned next. About an hour later she must have wanted to relieve herself. I didn’t catch her getting up but I saw her slip back into the room. And there it was, a puppy at the door. Stillborn.
I wasn’t planning to share that we lost one. But it's the first time we’ve ever experienced that. And it really hurt. A lot more than I was expecting. I scooped her up and grabbed a warm towel from the dryer. For much longer than I needed to I rubbed, and blew into her tiny mouth and compressed her tiny chest. I cleared her airways as best I could and I prayed that she might give me a little sign that she could come back. But I already knew what I knew the moment I picked up her cold little form. She was gone. And it was very hard not to blame myself. I should have moved Lucy out. I should have walked her around and made sure labor was truly over. This little one was inside too long and I felt responsible.
Definitely a bit heartbreaking, I’ll admit. I know now that I’ll be more careful with future litters to be sure the dam is fully over labor. She was a beautiful deep brown sable and I hate that she’s not stumbling around in the pen with her littermates.
It took me a little to get over that blow and to be able to fully enjoy the litter again. The birth-joy was a little tainted. But the sweetness of new life never gets old and never fails to surprise us with wonder. There is just nothing as precious as a brand new, helpless newborn. The grunts and groans and little cries; the snuffly kisses as they tuck themselves into the warmest nook you can offer; the wobbly movements as they stumble their way to mama, their little tails wagging in pure ecstasy as they drink the liquid gold. How hilarious they are as they roll over each other and scrabble for the closest drink, screeching and fussing until satisfied at last, only to be shoved off by another equally starving litter mate. It’s hard to tear yourself away from the whelping box. And my children are no exception. Although we try to keep our contact minimal the first few weeks (as Lucy would prefer it and as it needs to be for their development) my younger ones are constantly popping in for a quick peek and maybe to snuggle one for just a moment, especially if it seemed particularly upset and pathetic. It’s a special time and, although it adds to the general chaos to have yet another living thing(s!) to keep alive and thriving, it is most definitely worth every moment, even the hard ones.
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