“Help me get her to the ground,” Samirah said.
Zack pulled the sheep down. It protested loudly but was finally on the floor.
“Help me down,” Samirah said, clicking her fingers at me.
“Oh. Yes!” I rushed over to her and she grabbed my hand and after a few tries, she managed to get down to the ground next to the sheep.
“What do you do?” I stared in horror at the little, dead-looking face. “Is it even alive?”
“For now. But not for long.” Samirah patted the ground next to her and I lowered myself.
“I need gloves,” she said to me.
“Gloves!” I shook my head. This was all too much. The closest I’d ever come to a birth of any kind was watching that blogger online who had filmed her birth in a babbling brook in the forest, not the nitty-gritty parts though, and posted it; she had trended for the whole bloody week with her #spiritualbirth.
She held her hand out to me and I rummaged through the bag, until I found the gloves, but when she put them on, I turned away.
“I can’t watch this! Oh my God!” The sheep seemed to agree and gave out a scream.
“Hold her down, Zack!” Samirah shouted. “And calm her, Frankie!”
“Calm her?” I asked.
“Go round and talk to her, this is going to hurt. She needs to keep calm.”
“She’s an animal, what shall I say to her?” I asked.
“If you still think they’re just animals after everything you’ve been through with Harun . . .” She let the words hang in the air.
I thought about that for a moment. “Okay.” I nodded in agreement. “I’ll go talk to her.”
I crawled around to the front of the sheep. Zack was holding her down while Samirah was busy with . . .that.
“Hi there,” I said to the sheep’s face. Her eyes were wide like saucers and she looked scared and in pain and my heart went out to her. I carefully laid my hand on her forehead and leaned in. “It’s going to be okay. Samirah over there is a very good vet. She’s also almost a mom and she’s going to make sure your little baby lamb comes out all white as snow and stuff like that. You know?”
The ewe’s eye drifted towards me, and I swear, it wasn’t my imagination, she looked like she was actually listening to me.
“You know that song, right?” I patted her head again. “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb her fleece was white as—”
“GOT IT!” Samirah suddenly shouted. The ewe gave one almighty bleat and then before I knew what was happening, Samirah was putting a wet-looking, lifeless lamb in front of the mother.
I gasped. “Is it dead?”
Samirah shook her head. “No. Wait and see.”
“But it’s not moving.” I felt so panicked looking at that wet, lifeless little creature lying there.
“Just wait,” Samirah said again.
The mother began licking the baby’s head. I waited with bated breath and suddenly, the baby stirred and opened its eyes.
“It’s alive!” I wrapped an arm around Samirah. “It’s alive! You’re amazing,” I said, giving her a squeeze.
We stood there and watched as the mom licked the baby. Slowly and surely, it sprang to life, raising its little face and even moving its front feet around on the ground. I suddenly felt very emotional. Overcome with such a rush of joy that I felt tears spring to my eyes.
“It’s beautiful,” Zack said, coming up next to me. The three of us stood like that shoulder to shoulder and watched the mom and baby doing what could only be described as cuddling.
“It is,” I said, and then turned to look at him. I expected him to be looking at the lamb but instead his eyes were glued to me. He had a look on his face and . . .Oh dear.
