I Can't Feel My Legs

Skippa was an unusually large Quarter Horse mare. She came to our farm with a checkered past- large pieces of her life had been lost as she was transferred from one owner to the next over the course of fourteen years. She checked into Fields Quarter Horses on a Sunday afternoon just a month before she was due to deliver her maiden foal.

She settled into the routine of the foaling farm quickly. She watched the weather change from dull Winter to bright Spring as the foal in her womb grew larger and closer to insisting on freedom. Perhaps due to her size or maybe because she was just a bully, Skippa often intimidated the other mares in the foaling barn. She was quick to sneer as they passed her stall front and even quicker to turn her giant haunches toward them if they dared step into the space she claimed.

The big red mare was irritable and quick to anger and grew tired of waiting. In the way of an animal, she did not know what she waited for, but knew that something was impending. There came a day at the foaling barn which was very busy. The people fussed about with a strange mare for long hours and then there was a hush. A tiny voice at the far end of the barn called out for a mother- but no one recognized it and thus did not answer. Then, as the evening drew late, another large mare named Tilly foaled in the stall across from her. There was more bustling about, and it seemed there would never be any peace in the barn.

Skippa had been feeling a tightening band around her abdomen since dinner. It clamped and released, clamped and released. With each passing moment, the band closed harder and harder around her. She kicked her hind feet. She bit at the wall. Showing her displeasure did not cause the discomfort to ease. After a while, the people left and the barn became quiet again. There were rustling sounds as mares nosed the floors of their stalls for strands of green hay. The orphan foal called quietly into the night but there was still no answer- no one recognized his voice. Across the aisle, Tilly cooed and nickered to her newborn filly in the stillness.

Skippa was overcome with an urge to lie down as the band closed so hard that her breathing became labored. She turned her head to look at her bulging side. Just as instinct told her to push, the people came back into her stall. She briefly noticed them but her pain caused her not to care.

Khris saw the tiny feet protruding from the big mare but noted that they did not move forward as the mare pushed. Quickly, the team of three formed a plan to help deliver the foal. Brittney snapped a brown lead rope onto Skippa's halter and Khris and Rachel began to pull with each hard contraction. With each pull, more of the imprisoned foal was exposed. Soon, they had two legs and a little pink nose beginning to protrude from the mare. Inside the mare, the foal's shoulders hit Skippa's pelvic wall as she pushed down hard. Khris felt the block and began to shift the foal's legs to help ease the bulky shoulders through the bony opening. Pulling one leg even farther forward, she pushed the second leg back into the mare to slant the foal's elbows ever so slightly- then she and Rachel pulled hard. A loud pop sounded out of place in the stall but the attendants knew from experience that the elbow lock had released. They pulled with the mare's contractions one more time and the newborn's chest rushed forward from the mare. The red roan filly lay partially contained in her amniotic sac with her hind legs still inside her mother. The umbilical cord connected them- as it had since her embryonic state many months before. It pulsed the final gift of life and blood from dam to foal.

Skippa felt the release as the foal spurted out in her final push. Instantly, the pain eased. In that moment, she became aware of the wriggling creature at her hip. Overcome with exotic new feelings, the mare reacted and in a large movement, swung herself upright to stand on all four feet. In the way that nature intended it to, the umbilical cord snapped and the foal was released from its mother. The amniotic sac fell away from the foal and was left hanging from the rear of the mare. The placenta would need more time and contractions to detach from the mare's uterus and it was important that Skippa not step on the gossamer tissue she was dragging behind her.  Brittney stepped away from Skippa's head to retrieve string to tie the placenta and Khris stepped in to hold the lead rope. At the same time, Skippa thought to turn to inspect the tiny wet being on the floor of her stall.

During the difficult delivery, the foal must have pressed upon a nerve in Skippa's spine. The mare was paralyzed and her haunches did not obey. She willed her legs to move but they did not respond. The big mare began to panic- there was a wet, smelly tiny horse in her stall, there were people (and she really didn't like people all that well), and she felt intense pressure in her haunches. She struggled to gain her balance but her hind limbs were giving way under the heavy weight of the horse.

In a moment which was chaos, confusion, and coordination combined, Khris pulled the mare's head forward giving Rachel and Brittney room to whisk the foal from beneath her. Just as they cleared the doorway of the stall carrying the squirming minute-old foal, the big mare fell hard to the floor of the stall. She landed on her hip and the air whooshed from her lungs. As the people assessed the situation, the foal was moved from the aisle of the barn to another softly bedded straw stall. There, she was dried with soft cotton towels and began to flail her legs in the age-old command to stand just moments following birth.

Back in Skippa's stall, the situation was much more grave. Her pulse began to race and her breathing became labored. She was scared and showing signs of shock. Quickly, she was sedated and given medicine to help her relax. Then, carefully, the people began to milk her streaming udder and hand the rich colostrum over to be fed to the waiting foal. Skippa warily watched the process and would like to have moved away but her legs simply did not cooperate. Skippa fought the fear that welled in her throat as she helplessly watched from her position. Once, she curled her front legs tightly and looked like a foal herself. After a bit, she began to relax and did not feel the crushing pain in her hip. She closed her eyes for a short time and dozed from exhaustion. Then, the people brought the damp roan filly and laid it in front of her. For a moment, she forgot that she could not stand. She tentatively tasted the top of the filly's head and was overcome with yet another nameless emotion. She could not stop licking the foal- she did not want to stop.

After an hour or so, Skippa's udder was becoming uncomfortable and she wanted to move. The people came to steady her head and moved the foal safely to the doorway of her stall. She parked her forelegs out and braced herself as she heaved onto her feet. She weaved from side to side and commanded her left hind leg to move outward to brace her weight. It obeyed! Carefully, she shifted her weight to stand on the leg and it supported her. With the same tiny steps of her foal, she tentatively moved in small steps testing to make sure her wobbly legs would support her heft. Soon, the filly stood nursing from her middle-aged mother and the people stood quietly by smiling and thankful that the paralysis had only been temporary. Occasionally, a foal will press upon a nerve in the mare's spine during delivery causing the mare to lose the use of one or both hind limbs. In Skippa's circumstance, the condition lasted almost two hours but she had no lingering effects.