West Coast Friendship: Part Five

What is this?? West Coast Friendship??
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It took me years to realize that I have a fear of making mistakes. No one likes messing up, but I will avoid it at all costs. Whether its speaking up during a classroom debate or dropping my stirrups to correct my lower leg, if there's a chance that I'll do something wrong, I won't do it. Now that I've come to accept this about myself, it is something that I can work through. The problem was, when I rode with Maura, I didn't know it.

We spent countless hours on the flat trying to correct my lower leg. It killed me to have my flawed foundation be the focus of lesson after lesson. I was so used to having my flaws ignored or overlooked. Riding with an instructor who actually focused on what was wrong with my riding made me uncomfortable. But I was rewarded for pushing my boundaries. Despite the heaping amounts of flat work, jumping was always incorporated into the lesson. Maura put more faith in me than my other instructors, and the fences I faced grew from mere speed bumps to actual jumps.

As I read through my riding journal from those first few months at Magnolia, I'm surprised at the amounts of "firsts" I had. With Maura, I jumped my first bending line, rode my first flying change, found my first distance, jumped my first jump without stirrups, and jumped my first oxer. But I experienced one equestrian first at Magnolia that was beyond Maura's control, and this single miracle is the strongest in my memory.

I was riding one Saturday morning when a girl no older than seven came running out to the ring.
"Maura, Maura, come quick!" she called. "I think Moondance is having her baby!"

What? was basically Maura and I's first sentiment. Because it was ten o'clock in the morning, and mare's rarely foal in the daylight. This girl was very young; she had to be confused.

But of course, we ran to the barn to see. We left our horses in the cross-ties and headed to Moondance's stall where, surely enough, she was starting to go into labor.

Maura had never delivered a foal, and I certainly had no experience. There was no one else on the grounds, and the mare's owner, whom we had sent the little girl to call, was still several minutes away. The seconds ticked by slowly, agonizingly, as we waited for someone to arrive--and prayed that nothing went wrong.

But finally, Moondance's owner got to the barn. This wasn't his first foal, and he knew exactly what to do. Even Moondance seemed to relax when she heard his voice. And once he took over, everything happened very quickly. Soon enough, laying in the stall with Moondance was a precious baby girl. She was a dusty black with a lopsided star and, even covered in blood and amniotic fluid, she was beautiful. I managed to capture her on my video phone as she first rose to her feet--surprisingly graceful for a wobbly little filly--and even now, that is the most amazing video I have ever seen.

My first foaling experience. And what an experience it was! Of all the things that I would come to encounter, watching Pia (as she would later be named) be born was the most emotional event of them all. Her arrival at Magnolia coincided nearly perfectly with mine, and as I saw her grow up, in glimpses and bursts, I couldn't help but think that she paralleled me. If only a little bit.
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The lovely little foal in the picture is not Pia, but unfortunately I don't have any photos of her on my computer. This photograph was taken by Deirdre-T at DeviantArt.