Uncomplicated Labor (children mentioned but not pictured)

If you read my parenting-after-loss blog, The Bear and The Comedian, you will know that our cat Sally found herself in a pregnant way.

Sunday morning, The Comedian elephant-footed down the hall at 6am. This is an everyday occurrance, ususally followed by "I'm awaaaaake" or "I'm reeeeealy hungry mama". But on this day the sweetest, softest voice came through the door tingling with excitement. Her sing-song tones couldn't hold the big news anymore. "The babies are out of Sally's belly!"

Thanks to dedicated and intelligent readers I knew her gestational period was 2 months and that she would 'pick' her labor location. I cringed slightly thinking of a messy birth in my closet or under the desk in the office, but the idea of her delivering outside in the cold, rainy weather was even more disturbing.

And then, I realized. I had no control over this - none. The nice big box lined with a cumfy but disposable piece of extra carpet we put in the upstairs bathroom remained empty. Sally was in complete control of her pregnancy. There had been no pre-natal vitamins for cats prescribed. She didn't ask us to bring her for a nuchal-scan or her four week ultrasound. We didn't time any contractions or gather her courting cat and bring them to a birthing class.

This was uncomplicated, natural birth. She lived her life - eating, sleeping, chasing mice and birds for her two months of pregnancy, only slowing down near the end as we ooooed and aaaaahed at her massive belly watching little legs poke and stretch in the night. I would put my hand on her stomach, and she let me; the miracle of feeling babies kick just as powerful for me regardless of their feline beginnings.

Sally never stressed about her kittens. About whether they would live or die. The kids wondered, but she didn't. She was a first time mother, blissfully ignorant, and it was a beautiful thing.

Sally took complete control of her labor - pre, during and post.

This is where she chose:

tucked away against the furtherest wall of the seldom used bed in The Comedian's room.

And here is her brood:

24 hours old. Alone for the first time since birth - wildly independent, regardless of their current disability.

I don't know if she mewed all night. I don't know if she was in pain. I don't know how long it took. I don't know how much they weigh or measure. I do know there are five kittens. Five perfectly alive kittens.

What a miracle. Nature is miraculous.