The Miracle of Birth, pt. 2

For a while I had a pet pig.

Technically, she wasn't a pet ... she was a lone farm pig who was occasionally bred for little porkers. The farmer had named her Muldoon, after one of New Zealand's more colourful and pig-like Prime Ministers.

My parents rented an old farm house ... the farmers had built themselves a nice new place ... which was close to Muldoon's sty. Sometimes Muldoon would be let out to run around and get some exercise ... sometimes Muldoon would just escape. She had a taste for the rose bushes in the garden, and was persistent enough to get through the flimsy gate, even when I'd remembered to close it. She once wandered into the house, which I thought was great ... my mother was less enthusiastic.

I liked Muldoon, and would often feed her fruit and vegetable scraps, scratch her behind the ears, and even play with her on those occasions when she was out of the rather muddy pen. However, because she was called Muldoon, it never really occurred to me that she was a she. So when piglets started popping out of her one day I was taken by surprise.

It was quite a show. We all gathered around to gaze in awe as the little runts were literally fired out of Muldoon and skidded across the sty floor. She was like a slow-firing air-propelled piglet rifle. Just when you figured she was done ... Pop! ... out came another one.

I can't help but wonder if anyone has ever used a pig in labour as a weapon? Maybe there's a story in that?

Artwork by Guy Landry

The Miracle of Birth, pt. 1

I have been lucky enough to witness the birth of a few animals; kittens, puppies, lambs, calves, foals, piglets ... and now two human children.

Watching a foal stand up seconds after being born on shaky legs was very memorable. Our cat giving birth to two all-white kittens was magical, since it occurred on my mum's sweater and we kept them. Obviously, a predator like a cat can afford to give birth to blind and helpless offspring. The herbivores, on the other hand, had to hit the ground running, or at least wobbling.

Human babies are also rather helpless and hopeless when born. Even the cute factor doesn't really kick in for a while. My wife referred to our wee boy as an angry red potato when he was born. To be fair, after pushing him out like that she could call him whatever she wanted to. All I could think of after that was, "Ouch!"

Our first child was born by c-section, and I got to watch. It was surreal to see, and hard to even think of it as happening to my wife. They laid a surgical sheet over my wife's stomach which had a teletubby like gap in it; further removing it from reality. She was drugged up, but conscious, and kept asking for updates.... Informing someone as to what is happening to their insides is a very, very odd thing to do.

"What are they doing?"

"Um ... they've just cut you open ... can you feel that?"

"Nope, not a thing. Now what's going on?"

"They are using what looks like giant ice cream scoops to push your intestines out of the way."

"Cool, now what?"

If I could have channel surfed it would have been just like watching TV. I wonder what animals are giving birth on the other channels?

Artwork by Guy Landry