“There’s a nose!” Matt said, drawing Sunday’s eyes back down to the foal. “The vet said sometimes when they’re not in position, that means they died in utero.”
His words hung in the air. Sunday’s heart sank down to her toes. Had she just done all of that work only to deliver a dead baby?
She supposed it needed to come out, to save the life of the mare. Still, she didn’t want another dead baby. She wanted a live one.
Then she remembered, it wasn’t about what she wanted.
Lord, if You would, let it be born alive.
It was God’s choice. But she could let Him know what she wanted and pray for that end.
So that’s exactly what she did.
“A few more good pushes and we should have the head out,” Matt said, shifting around so he was in a better position to give her a hand.
It turned out he didn’t need to, because less than a minute later, the foal slipped out, small and wet and still. After a few seconds while Sunday held her breath, its chest trembled, and its head lifted, its eyes wide open.
“It’s alive!” she breathed, her hand going to her chest.
Matt produced a rag from somewhere, and he wiped the mucus out of its airways. “It sure is.” He stopped for a moment and looked up at her, smiling. “You did a good job.”
“I can’t believe it’s alive.”
Sunday looked over in surprise. Noah stood beside her, and his hand came down on her shoulder. “I’m not sure I could have done that. I...was shocked that you were able to.”
“I was shocked too. I haven’t done anything close to that in years. And never with a horse.”
“Do you think the mom is going to make it?”
Chapter 12
Matt shrugged his shoulder and leaned back, allowing the foal to struggle to get up off its side. “I’m not sure. The vet’s coming, and we’ll do what we can for her. I’m almost positive the baby is going to need to be supplemented though.”
“You mean like with a bottle?” Noah asked.
“Kinda. Probably with a bucket. Foals can drink from a very young age; she probably won’t drink from a bottle if she’s getting anything from her mom.”