This is a kitten. I know, it doesn't look like a kitten, but it is! And I delivered her with my own two hands. Yep, I'm midwife. Okay, a cat midwife. And I've hung up my rubber gloves. No more kitten deliveries for me.

On March 11, 2003, we brought Hershey from the vet's to my parents' house. We gave her a nice box to sleep in and set her up in the laundry room. It was four days after we found her on the highway. We hoped she'd hold onto the rest of any kittens for a few more days and not deliver. My parents had to go out that night. Of course! So I was left with an injured cat and two preschoolers.

About 8pm, I took my kids into the laundry room to say goodnight to Hershey. My son said, "She's gone!" For the first time that day, she was out of the box. But where? Finally I found her wedged between the wall and the washer. She was in the middle of delivering this little kitten. I assisted. The baby squirmed like a little mouse. My daughter prayed. I freaked.

Because she didn't have any hair, I had to put her against my belly to keep her warm. What a weird feeling that was! This picture was actually taken when the kitten was about 4 days old.

My sweet niece, Melissa, brought an eyedropper so I could feed the baby. Apparently kittens eat every hour. I found some information on the internet on premie kittens which helped. But then, I thought I better check on Hershey again. Yep, she was delivering another kitten. That kitten looked exactly like Hershey. It never moved around as much as the other kitten. It didn't thrive. And after two days, it died.

My son named the one surviving kitten 'Eagle' then 'Barracuda.' Well, she was a fighter. I eventually changed her name to Miracle.

I'll tell more of her story tomorrow and show a few more pictures.