![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormPopcorn is in labour right now. (two born) I'm nervous. This is the first time I've closely watched the process from close up, which I'm doing because I'm nervous. Sometimes I'll go in and pick them up and inspect them mid-process, but then I usually leave the room and leave the cage covered the rest of the time, and I don't inspect often during a labour.
Poppy is not a super big fan of this level of intervention. She puts up with it, but stops when I turn on the lights, and gives me funny looks from time to time-- yeah, yeah, I get it, what I'm doing is weird, Lady. Just finish having your babies.
I am trying to make myself a cup of something hot to drink, but keep forgetting to pour the hot water from the kettle over something.
It's funny, during emergencies if I need to be doing anything I can be very calm, especially when someone else is depending on me. Here there's just that sneaking worry-- a second litter is a little bit risky, Caramella's one baby came out fine and there doesn't seem to be anyone stuck in the birth canal, Poppy's keeping up a good pace for babies I think --but I keep getting flashbacks to Corn Pops last summer. That was a realy rough birth. I don't want to repeat that. I would really like an x-ray machine here so I could somewhat trivially see how many babies there are and no one's left inside-- taking a new mom all the way to the vet on no actual justification is kinda silly. Just nervous.
The problem is, of course, that I breed for temperament. That means I breed my very very favourite rats, exposing them to risk in labour. It also means I want the babies more, because they would be more awesome than any other rats who could exist. Poppy was bred to Jacob, who ia the son of Paris my favourite rat and daughter of Lightning and Roxanne, who is the daughter of Cocoa Puff and Quartzie, and Cocoa was the daughter of Erin (born Andromeda) and Eliott (Erin was not mine but Lizzy's, named after me; Eliott was Quartz's dad) who was the daughter of Lightning , who was one of the first two rats I had from Lizzy. I didn't have to look that up; I remember. Every name on that list is so cherished; there are so many snuggles and kisses and fond memories tangled up in each. Each birth is harder for me, therefore, because I have more to lose and I know more about what can go wrong.
(it's really hard to see what's going on with the lights dim, but I think 4 so far)
It's especially difficult because I'm trying to breed when they're older, to help with longevity and selection for health, but older pregnancies have more chance of being both smaller and more dangerous.
I'll stop now about that. I'll make myself some tea, or rather some fake coffee. I'll contemplate just how crazy busy tomorrow's going to be on no sleep. I'll keep checking Poppy. I'm too scattered to write.
I am excited about the masquerade though. That boy keeps teasing me about his outfit; I'm about to die of curiosity. Angus' is very pretty indeed. My own is fabulous; there will be pictures. Costuming is one of my chiefest joys. I won't tell you exactly what the costume is till after, but it's pretty meaningful to me, and it lets me play a lot when making it.
Poppy is not a super big fan of this level of intervention. She puts up with it, but stops when I turn on the lights, and gives me funny looks from time to time-- yeah, yeah, I get it, what I'm doing is weird, Lady. Just finish having your babies.
I am trying to make myself a cup of something hot to drink, but keep forgetting to pour the hot water from the kettle over something.
It's funny, during emergencies if I need to be doing anything I can be very calm, especially when someone else is depending on me. Here there's just that sneaking worry-- a second litter is a little bit risky, Caramella's one baby came out fine and there doesn't seem to be anyone stuck in the birth canal, Poppy's keeping up a good pace for babies I think --but I keep getting flashbacks to Corn Pops last summer. That was a realy rough birth. I don't want to repeat that. I would really like an x-ray machine here so I could somewhat trivially see how many babies there are and no one's left inside-- taking a new mom all the way to the vet on no actual justification is kinda silly. Just nervous.
The problem is, of course, that I breed for temperament. That means I breed my very very favourite rats, exposing them to risk in labour. It also means I want the babies more, because they would be more awesome than any other rats who could exist. Poppy was bred to Jacob, who ia the son of Paris my favourite rat and daughter of Lightning and Roxanne, who is the daughter of Cocoa Puff and Quartzie, and Cocoa was the daughter of Erin (born Andromeda) and Eliott (Erin was not mine but Lizzy's, named after me; Eliott was Quartz's dad) who was the daughter of Lightning , who was one of the first two rats I had from Lizzy. I didn't have to look that up; I remember. Every name on that list is so cherished; there are so many snuggles and kisses and fond memories tangled up in each. Each birth is harder for me, therefore, because I have more to lose and I know more about what can go wrong.
(it's really hard to see what's going on with the lights dim, but I think 4 so far)
It's especially difficult because I'm trying to breed when they're older, to help with longevity and selection for health, but older pregnancies have more chance of being both smaller and more dangerous.
I'll stop now about that. I'll make myself some tea, or rather some fake coffee. I'll contemplate just how crazy busy tomorrow's going to be on no sleep. I'll keep checking Poppy. I'm too scattered to write.
I am excited about the masquerade though. That boy keeps teasing me about his outfit; I'm about to die of curiosity. Angus' is very pretty indeed. My own is fabulous; there will be pictures. Costuming is one of my chiefest joys. I won't tell you exactly what the costume is till after, but it's pretty meaningful to me, and it lets me play a lot when making it.
