“Yeah,” I agree. “Shit.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“No,” I start, “you don’t have to—”
But the line is dead before I can finish my sentence.
I watch as Mabel continues rolling, kicking her legs in the air to give herself momentum. Horses will often do this to help position their foals for birth, so I’m slightly encouraged by it. I lean back against the far wall of the stall, keeping an eye on her. Most animal births surprisingly don’t require a lot of action on a vet’s part. You watch, keep an eye out for problems, and jump in if necessary.
The key part is knowing when something is going wrong.
It doesn’t take long for Theo to show up, and when he does, I feel a bit of my anxiety lessen. It’s strange—it’s not like Theo can do much, he has no training in this. But somehow, his presence calms me just a bit.
We haven’t really spoken about what happened this weekend. Waking up in each other’s arms, then being interrupted by his mom. I think actually talking about it would admit it happened, and admitting it happened would mean … well, things I can’t really think about at the moment, honestly.
“Hey,” he says with a smile, approaching the stall.
“Hey,” I greet.
He looks over the railing at Mabel, who is alternating between standing, lying down, and rolling. His eyebrows knit together slightly. “So what’s going on?”
I take a deep breath. “The foal isn’t positioned correctly for birth, but she’s in labor.”
He nods slowly.
“I’m gonna check its position soon to see if she’s managed to turn it on her own.”
Theo raises an eyebrow. “They can do that?”
I nod. “That’s what the rolling around is for.”
Just then, Mabel stands again, and I take it as my cue to dive in for another ultrasound. I grab her halter, gently holding her still as I power the machine back up.
“You need help?” Theo offers, opening the door and stepping inside.
“Yeah, actually,” I say. “Can you hold her still?”
He takes my place, holding Mabel’s halter while I move down her body, running the ultrasound wand over her belly. To my disappointment, the foal doesn’t seem to have moved at all.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Not any better?” Theo guesses.
I shake my head.
Mabel whinnies, yanking her halter out of Theo’s grasp and resuming her pacing. We both step back to the side of the pen, watching her. She sits down, rolls again, and then lets out a loud neigh. I step to the side, angling my head for a better look.
And sure enough, she’s dilated, and that foal is coming down the birth canal. Only it’s not coming feet first like it’s supposed to.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself, running my fingers through my hair. My mind flashes through all the possibilities. I could call Dr. Ramirez, but I honestly don’t think she’d make it here in time. Mabel is in full-on labor, and I’m the only one here who can help her.
Theo’s panicked eyes meet mine. “Do we need to call someone?” he asks.
I shake my head. I try to quell the panic rising inside of me, walking myself through all the options. “I’m going to need to reach in and turn the foal,” I state calmly, more to myself than to Theo, although him being here is actually going to help quite a bit.
“You’re … what?” Theo stammers, his blue eyes widening.
“I’m going to reach in and turn the foal,” I repeat.
