I’ve seen calves born before, but nothing could have prepared me for this morning with Big Mama. Just last week, our vet had cleared her for AI. Yesterday, I gave her the shot. And today—out of nowhere—she went into labor.

I was alone. No vet, no family, no plan. Just me, Mama, and the terrifying unknown. I called my brother Brett, put him on speaker, and with shaking hands grabbed the tiny hooves. I pulled with everything I had, whispering prayers through tears. Mama pushed, her eyes locked on mine—trusting me, pleading with me. Together, we fought for life.

For a moment, the calf was stuck. My chest caved with fear. Then—one last desperate push—and the world shifted. A wet, trembling calf slid free, lifted its tiny head, and gasped its first breath. Alive. Breathing. Here.

I collapsed in the straw, sobbing—fear, relief, and joy tangled into one. Later, the vet told me quietly: “If you hadn’t been there, you’d have lost them both.”

This morning, I learned something I’ll carry forever: sometimes love, instinct, and courage are enough to tip the balance between life and death. 🌅✨