This has been a remarkable year for us - leaving California behind to live in Europe, then Washington D.C., Colorado, and finally, back home to California.  Looking back on it, perhaps we just needed a new adventure in a year-long series of mighty fine adventures.  Whatever the reason, we really wanted to have the experience of watching, and helping, our Sophie give birth to babies.  Umm, I'd say we got our wish.

The last time that Sophie was pregnant, she had only one pup - a girl, Lily, who is a wonderful addition to our family.  But, if you've read the story of her birth, you know that we missed it.  Yes, really, missed it.  So, we searched for a suitable male (which we more than found in Gloria Beaudin's handsome boy, Oakley) and prepared for the big day.  Sophie was ready quickly as usual and Oakley is apparently quite ready at all times and in a very big way.  We learned that their long distance union had produced four pups and we anxiously awaited their arrival.

Starting at about 9 pm, Sophie began acting (to us) like she was "ready."  By around 1 am, we had all fallen asleep in a heap by the whelping box (me, my husband, two friends and our cat).  Nothing had happened.  By 4 am, the first puppy was born (unfortunately while we slept).   We heard him, and then saw him, stuck between Sophie's legs.  Only about two inches of cord was visible - the rest inside of Sophie.  I didn't know what to do, so I clipped, then cut, the umbilical cord (while hubby contested whether that was a good idea - "as opposed to what dear, let him stay there like that?")  It bled, and was too short, but we didn't know what else to do.  Blood kept going everywhere and we were starting to feel like we were unintentional participants in a horror movie.  Finally, I read the BOOK and understood the reason I had the iodine in my little pack next to the whelping box.  It stopped the bleeding.  Everything calmed down.

He's an adorable black male with cool white markings.  The kids dubbed him "Domino" because he's black and white (not because he is a "domino" of the breed).

Phew, we did it!  I say, "honey, wake up the kids!"  So, the kids came in and we all waited for puppy number two.  About two hours later, puppy two's back feet made an appearance.  Then, a little more of her arrived.  She was about half way out and no more progress was being made.  I was convinced this was a bad thing (having read about this in at least 16 different books and blogs).  So, I started to tug.  She didn't budge.  I didn't expect it to be so hard!  Finally, I got a towel wrapped it around the presenting part and pulled - hard.  Out she came.  I was terrified that I had pulled her legs right out their joints.  Ignoring my fear, I rubbed her down.  She needed to aspirate so I did the thing that all of the books and blogs said to do, I swung her gently toward the floor (holding carefully and securely) -- while promptly BUMPing her head into the whelping box.  I screamed, "Oh, no!  I've killed her!!!"  I now notice that my husband has the video camera going. "Honey, if you don't shut that thing off I'm going to hurt you!"  (Never mind that I asked him to video everything).  Video camera disappears.  Puppy starts breathing and crying, kids stop breathing and start crying.  I start crying.  Tom looks as if he's participating in one of those airline commercials "Wanna get away?"  If you like drama, this is the place to be and the time to be there.  (By the way, pup two is doing quite well, thank you, and her joints are all intact.  We call her "Survivor").  She is lovely.

So, it is now about 6:30 am.  I'm beginning to conclude that I need a substitute for the class I'm teaching this year (high school civics).  While I'm on the phone making those arrangements, puppy number three slides out like she's covered in oil and on a water slide -- Whee!!!  Cord get's clipped and cut (this time without any trouble), pup grabs a teet and we're all thinking we're on easy street.  She was only 9 ¾ oz and is a beautiful shade of chocolate brown:

Elie (my daughter) has had enough and insists that dad take her to school - advanced math and hand bells seem a lot less stressful at this point - but Justin (my son) wants to stay and see the last pup born.  I say "sure, honey, you'll only miss your first class (at most)."  Ha.

So, about two hours go by.  The last hour is punctuated with lots of contractions and little progress.  Finally, the tip of a tail and a couple little feet announce the presence of a breech-positioned pup.  Then - nothing.  Contraction.  Tip of feet.  Nothing.  Contraction.  Tip of feet.  Nothing....  Stress levels begin rising again.  Contraction.  Tip of feet.  Nothing.  I've got the gloves on and am doing serious business at this point trying to hook the back legs and get some leverage.  Nothing is happening. 

We called the vet.  She said "bring Sophie in."  By now, I'm thinking I'm the expert in all things related to the birth of puppies.  I say, "really?"  Vet says, "I said, BRING HER IN NOW!!!!"  Okey dokey, then.  I grab Sophie, Justin grabs the pups, my friend grabs the car keys and we are OFF.  Just a side note here:   Justin and I are both bare-footed.  I am in those sweats you NEVER wear outside of the house and am covered in the green goo that only one who has lived through a litter delivery with "issues" can truly understand.  Hubby followed safely behind (it took him a while since he observed the traffic laws) with shoes and jackets for all.

Meanwhile, we raced across town in violation of nearly every pertinent traffic code.  I had my green goo covered gloved hand hanging out the window waving people off while we weaved in and out of morning commute traffic.  We arrived and I grabbed Sophie and RAN into the office.  The receptionist said "we'll be with you in a few minutes."  I said, "umm, no, really, you'll be with us NOW!"  To her credit, she complied.  Doc did a quick x-ray to determine whether to deliver by c-section.  The puppy was stretched all the way to the top of Sophie's rib cage!  Doc said, "C-section, NOW."  Pup's mouth appeared on the x-ray to be open (a sign that the pup has died).  Doc shooed us all out of the room.

We began our own revival type prayer meeting in the waiting area.  Within a few minutes, the tech came out to give us two thumbs up.  Puppy number four is alive and well; and, Sophie, while a little bruised, battered and, now, stapled, is fine.  We were invited in to meet puppy number four (whom we have nick-named "Gigantor" because of his size) and discovered a wonderful puppy with a little white spot on his head that looks like the northern star that announced the birth of Jesus.  He was a perfect end to our Christmas-time drama and a true answer to prayer. 

May this season find you all well and prosperous.  And may you all find your little northern stars more easily than we found ours.

If you'd like to see our brood, you can find them at http://sites.google.com/site/glacierspiritkennels/our-puppies