GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING: This post includes detailed descriptions of cow birth, but I assure you, despite how vivid it may sound, it doesn’t hold a candle to actually being 10 FEET AWAY FROM A LIVE COW GIVING BIRTH. So, let’s take a deep breath and dive in.
Yes, I willingly took on the role of an observer, intent on “experiencing nature” (or whatever excuse you tell yourself before witnessing something a bit gross). I recently found myself watching a hefty cow give birth to a slightly smaller, yet still substantial, calf. While many of you reading this have either witnessed or taken part in the birth of a human, I’ve only done the former, and I’d wager the cow version is a whole lot messier.
You might be wondering why I would subject myself to this, perhaps while enjoying a refreshing glass of milk—a beverage I can hardly look at anymore. First off, I live in Indiana, where calf births happen numerous times daily. You could be driving to grab some fried pork tenderloin or an Andrew Luck jersey, and there you are, spotting calves being born right off the side of the road. It’s quite common; you can even find places that let you help if you bring your own gloves. In Indiana, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a birthing cow, and trust me, that’s more frequent than you might think.
How It Went Down
So, here’s how it went down. There’s an amazing farm in Indiana named Fair Oaks, which offers tours, activities for kids, fresh chocolate milk practically straight from the cow, and the best grilled cheese sandwich I’ve ever had (yes, sorry Grandma). They also have a live cow birthing center, which resembles a small theater, minus the drama. Instead of a stage, there’s a brightly lit concrete room with two straw beds and two visibly concerned cows. It felt a bit like the worst production of Shakespeare I’ve ever seen.
Honestly, I found the whole situation invasive. I’m not a woman (at least, I’m about 80 to 85 percent sure of that), but I’ve been present for a few births, and my instinct tells me that it’s not something anyone would request an audience for. I felt pity for those cows, just lying there, oblivious to the fact that they were on display for a bunch of Midwestern tourists in overalls and Carhartt shirts.
But it was genuine. Real, unfiltered, and yes, gooey. Naturally, I brought my kids along for the experience, convinced that witnessing the “miracle of life” was essential. My 10-year-old is quite the inquisitive soul. At one point, he leaned over to his 2-year-old brother and exclaimed, “Look, that’s what happened when you were born!” using the sing-songy tone of a preschool teacher. His mother was relieved he made the distinction that “Mom wasn’t a cow.”
All things considered, he seemed to handle it well. “That was pretty cool,” he declared as we exited, and I tried to gauge his feelings without outright asking, “How traumatizing was that cow’s placenta for you? Should I be concerned about you throwing up now or later?” Surprisingly, he replied, “I like seeing the beginning of a life,” although I suspected he would have preferred to see less of the cow’s afterbirth. As for the 2-year-old, he had a moment of wide-eyed astonishment, then clapped, dashed around the room, demanded orange juice, and playfully punched me in the eye. Just another day in the life, I suppose.
Yet, amid all this chaos, the cow didn’t seem fazed. Sure, she looked a bit uncomfortable and was breathing a bit heavily (or so I assumed, as I’m no cow-birthing expert). But there was no panic, no shouting for pain relief, and definitely no name-calling directed at any anesthesiologists. She simply delivered her calf, stood up, stretched, and, as nature intended, plopped down on some straw for a nap—eventually. First, there was a lengthy licking session of her calf, which I assured my 10-year-old was something else that Mom did not do.
For more insights into pregnancy and home insemination, this link to Kindbody is an excellent resource. And if you’re considering at-home insemination, check out Make a Mom for reputable insemination syringe kits.
In summary, my adventure of taking my sons to witness a cow giving birth was both eye-opening and a little bit messy. It reinforced the beauty of life while reminding me of the realities of nature.
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