Serenity Yoga Farm

Unfortunately on New Year’s morning we found Mustachia, our smallest goat, lying on her side too weak to get up. Christine held her for hours inside, cuddled her with the heater on them both, and we gave her what we could, but she left us a few hours later.

If you remember from two posts ago, a few of our goats got sick; the other small Nigerian Dwarf, Mooey, recovered; Mustachia and Peaches did not get better. We gave them herbals and the herbals didn’t help. We resorted to chemicals but it was too late to save Mustachia, or she was just too bad off. Peaches has slowly been recovering and though she has lost a lot of weight, she is almost back to her old self.

Losing Mustachia has been very hard. It’s a reminder that we’re not here permanently. A reminder that we don’t know everything. A hard lesson learned.

We felt like we did everything we knew to do at the time. We’ve since learned many things we could (and will) do differently in the future.

I feel much more uncertain about herbals at this point. I mean, we have given the goats herbals, sometimes every 4 hours day and night, and yet they still got sick.

When I wrote in a regular goat group online about how I’d like to start using chemical wormers because “we lost one” I had one person saying they’ve only ever used chemicals and they’ve been losing goats left and right this year (in Florida, so probably similar weather). I had others saying they lose goats too with chemicals. That made me feel better; I guess in the end you do what you can and sometimes things just die anyway.

But these aren’t just livestock to us; they are family. And I’ve had to question…

Are we cut out for this?

The anxiety and worry that has overcome me since losing our precious little goat has been enormous. I am a mess. I worry now about everything. I have to double check on everyone at night. In the morning I have terrible anxiety about letting everyone out of their enclosure, fearing I’ll find someone sick (or worse). I am exhausted from all the worry. Christine asked me at one point if I feel the worry is productive. No, of course worry isn’t productive. I don’t *want* to worry. I don’t like to worry. It’s just there, driving me nuts. The “what if’s” and the concerns I’m not doing enough or I don’t know enough.

And I really don’t know. How much more can I feel? How much more can I lose? Do “real” farmers detach? Am I too sensitive for all of this?

We have all these births coming up in a few months but here was death, too. I do believe we are supposed to live like this. I think it’s natural to understand life and death and see it up close. But can I really start this at 34? It would be so different if I grew up this way. In truth I avoid hard things. I run away from pain. But here is a place I cannot run. I have to see it all, experience it regularly.

And lately I’m not sure I’m strong enough.