I heard him quietly slip out of bed, and knew instantly he had heard something on the baby monitor. With my head still in dreamland, I wasn't entirely sure if the noises I was hearing were real - or simply an extension of the dream I still had one foot in.
I shook myself away - willing my eyes to open. It was 4AM.
He told me he was going down to the barns to check, and I lay in the dark waiting for the signal that all was good and I could return to dreamland. But then the text came through.
"Just a head. Bring the lambing kit"
It amazed me that I managed to get dressed so quickly and down to the barns so fast, lugging essentials in the dark. My feet know the way, and so I simply followed, mindful that in the dark things can trick the mind. Was that rock there yesterday?
I arrived to find him sitting with the ewe, speaking calmly to her. I gloved up and ensured my headlamp was working. One of the things we forgot to plan for was lambing in the dark - lights for the barn area are still on the "to do" list.
I wasn't sure I could do it, I was afraid to hurt her - but seeing that small head so lifelessly hanging there and knowing that if I didn't find two legs to go along with it death would be imminent - I gloved up and plunged my hand in. And then I closed my eyes and allowed my fingers to see. I could feel the small shoulders, and the right leg was slightly bent. With a little wiggling, I managed to pull it forward. The other leg was pointing the wrong way, and flat against the body of the lamb. As I opened my eyes to asses the situation, I felt her contract, and as I pulled my gloved hand out the lamb came along with it in one giant whoosh!
We cleaned it's wee face, and I heard it gasp as the first breath of air entered it's tiny lungs.
We smiled as I cleared away the goo and encouraged the ewe to clean it. Within seconds the second lamb arrived, completely unassisted.
As I looked over at my dear sweet fireman, and smiled I realized that despite our fears - we could do this.