It’s 9:30 at night, and I’m driving up the driveway, returning from dinner with my sister and mom. A light is bobbing through the bedded-down cows in the pasture in front of the house. Craig is checking on the cows. Ever since we started calving the heifers the week before, this became a nightly vigil. Every year, he is as anxious as a new father – monitoring his baby girls, fussing over them and ready to assist if they show signs of distress.

Here is the thing, though: For the past two years, I’ve been the one to calve out around half of the heifers and a good bit of cows as well. He has ended up with work trips that coincide with this time of year – which, of course, only ramped up the anxiety. He is growing to trust me, though, in this matter of calving cows. He was only going to be gone for two days out of the week, and we had 12 heifers due that Saturday. Two calved prior to him leaving, and six calved in the two days he was gone while they were under my jurisdiction. No problems.

If his midwifery represents an anxious father, mine is like the aged matron who naturally birthed six children. He texted me one morning when he was sitting in the Denver airport, waiting to catch his flight home. “Any more calves this morning?” It was 7 a.m., and in this part of the globe, this time of the year, it is still dark. “It’s dark,” I texted back. “So?” he responded. I checked them a couple of hours later; one had calved in the night, a handsome bull calf, up and nursing. Another heifer was off on her own, her behavior suspicious. When I returned to feed in the afternoon, she’d given birth, as had two others – no need to hover.

I know I’m a little too confident in my laissez-faire approach. Honestly, I’m glad of his nightly vigil and his concern. If he is the one to worry, I don’t have to. Last night, a heifer started calving when he was feeding. An hour later, he went back out to check on her. Our 5-year-old son, Ethan, was with him, and they could see a shiny, wet hoof peeking through. They stayed to watch, the perfect science lesson for a kindergartner. She didn’t progress any further, so they went back to their chores. An hour later, they checked again, and the hoof was back inside. While he is an anxious father, he is also a darn good veterinarian and knew not to intervene yet. The night vigil of the bobbing flashlight as I drove up the lane was him checking her one more time before he went to bed.

When he came inside, he had a big smile on his face. She finally calved on her own with just a little patience on his part. This morning, he proudly showed me a dozen videos of the calves he’d just taken – kicking and running around the pasture. He is the anxious foster father and the proud papa. Another few weeks checking cows with the anxious rancher.