Barn | Jordan Peace
The gusty wind blew open the large wooden door with a trembling creak that pierced the old woman’s eardrums and seemed to make her soul cringe. The scattered hay and feed that lay on the ground was kicked up into a small cyclone that wound its way across the small barn and died only a few feet from the sheep pen. The woman debated with herself if she should get up and close the door, or stay with the ewe that was lying on its side and bleating with a fury that rivaled that of the creaking door. The woman decided that the sheep was a more pressing matter.
The sheep was writhing on the soft hay of her pen, blood already staining its off white wool. The woman had known that this was going to happen soon. It had been about four months since she had discovered that the sheep she called Maggie was pregnant. During which time the already ornery sheep had become even more so. This was not going to be an easy delivery.
The woman bent over and examined Maggie’s progress so far. Reaching inside she could feel something hard and sharp. The woman thought that it could possibly be a hoof in which case it would be a miracle if the birth was done before dawn. Getting down onto her knees the woman reached into Maggie, despite the sheep’s objections, and tried to turn the unborn lamb into its proper head first position. If she couldn’t do it there was a strong possibility that the lamb would be still born and the labor pains could kill Maggie.
It was a delicate balance it try and reposition the little lamb. If she pulled too hard she could easily break its back or neck. If she didn’t pull hard enough it wouldn’t move. The old woman scrunched up her face in concentration as Maggie’s bleating became worse and worse. Slowly but surely the lamb began to move. This birthing reminded the old woman about her own. It had taken thirteen hours and was excruciatingly painful. Eventually the doctors had decided it be to do a cesarean section which the woman was very grateful for.
As the woman continued to tug the tiny lamb caught on the sheep’s vaginal wall. Gritting her teeth the woman felt around the lamb and Maggie continued to shriek and scream. The little sheep wasn’t moving and the old woman couldn’t find a pulse. She had to act quickly if she was going to save the lamb’s life.
Carefully turning the lamb the woman continued to pull as she felt her hands being squeezed by Maggie’s pushing. A new stream of blood ran from Maggie as the hoof of the little lamb cut into her. Suddenly the lamb twisted around and slid free from its mother. The old woman looked at it and saw that it was slickly small, with its eyes closed, and not breathing. The woman carefully checked the little lamb and found that it was still born.
Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes as she placed the tiny creature next to its mother. The wind continued to howl around the old barn with its cracked and chipped paint, but to the woman it sounded very quiet. Maggie has stopped bleating. As the tears fell free from her eyes the woman looked down at the ornery sheep gently licking her small child.
The woman sobbed uncontrollably as she watched this scene. It reminded her so much of herself and her own child who was such a struggle in birth and in life. Constantly running around and fighting against her in his childish way. It was more than the woman could take as she saw the dead lamb lying next to its mother. A wave of guilt crashed over her as she thought of how she had taken the lamb from its mother. It seemed too similar to how her son had left her. Quietly she stood up and walked over to the door closing it behind her. She couldn’t stop crying as she looked back at the old barn. She left to give Maggie what she never had, time to say goodbye to her son.
The sheep was writhing on the soft hay of her pen, blood already staining its off white wool. The woman had known that this was going to happen soon. It had been about four months since she had discovered that the sheep she called Maggie was pregnant. During which time the already ornery sheep had become even more so. This was not going to be an easy delivery.
The woman bent over and examined Maggie’s progress so far. Reaching inside she could feel something hard and sharp. The woman thought that it could possibly be a hoof in which case it would be a miracle if the birth was done before dawn. Getting down onto her knees the woman reached into Maggie, despite the sheep’s objections, and tried to turn the unborn lamb into its proper head first position. If she couldn’t do it there was a strong possibility that the lamb would be still born and the labor pains could kill Maggie.
It was a delicate balance it try and reposition the little lamb. If she pulled too hard she could easily break its back or neck. If she didn’t pull hard enough it wouldn’t move. The old woman scrunched up her face in concentration as Maggie’s bleating became worse and worse. Slowly but surely the lamb began to move. This birthing reminded the old woman about her own. It had taken thirteen hours and was excruciatingly painful. Eventually the doctors had decided it be to do a cesarean section which the woman was very grateful for.
As the woman continued to tug the tiny lamb caught on the sheep’s vaginal wall. Gritting her teeth the woman felt around the lamb and Maggie continued to shriek and scream. The little sheep wasn’t moving and the old woman couldn’t find a pulse. She had to act quickly if she was going to save the lamb’s life.
Carefully turning the lamb the woman continued to pull as she felt her hands being squeezed by Maggie’s pushing. A new stream of blood ran from Maggie as the hoof of the little lamb cut into her. Suddenly the lamb twisted around and slid free from its mother. The old woman looked at it and saw that it was slickly small, with its eyes closed, and not breathing. The woman carefully checked the little lamb and found that it was still born.
Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes as she placed the tiny creature next to its mother. The wind continued to howl around the old barn with its cracked and chipped paint, but to the woman it sounded very quiet. Maggie has stopped bleating. As the tears fell free from her eyes the woman looked down at the ornery sheep gently licking her small child.
The woman sobbed uncontrollably as she watched this scene. It reminded her so much of herself and her own child who was such a struggle in birth and in life. Constantly running around and fighting against her in his childish way. It was more than the woman could take as she saw the dead lamb lying next to its mother. A wave of guilt crashed over her as she thought of how she had taken the lamb from its mother. It seemed too similar to how her son had left her. Quietly she stood up and walked over to the door closing it behind her. She couldn’t stop crying as she looked back at the old barn. She left to give Maggie what she never had, time to say goodbye to her son.
posted by Anonymous | 10:43 AM
1 Comments:
This was a very creative way of describing the scene we were given. I liked it a lot Jordan. Something interesting though, is that the barn wasn't really mentioned during the blog. It hit home though because growing up my family had sheep. I remember my father getting home in early hours of the morning from helping his sheep give birth. I've watched it happen and it's not a very appealing experience. You took me right back in our barn. I also liked how the mother was still working hard, because she lived on a farm, with a very hard lifestyle, she doesn't have time to sit and reflect. I never took that into consideration! Very good job Jordan!
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