Stella  






Hanoverian mare
May 25, 1998 - May 6, 2010




Stella came into our lives as a curious and confident yearling.  I remember the first time I looked into her eyes.  They were big and brown, trusting and kind. My heart melted.  I knew she had to be mine.

I could go on and on writing about how she had a funny way of punctuating conversation with a snort, or how she did her “Spanish Walk” at horse shows when she thought she had done a fabulous job. (She definitely thought highly of herself…a personality trait that I loved, loved, loved.) I could mention that in her 12 short years, 9 spent under saddle, that no one EVER came off of her. That I rode her with Lendon Gray at Equine Affaire when she was only a mere four years old. She was careful, well balanced…a babysitter.  I think I loved her for that more than anything.  My husband and I would put small children on her as well as my 70 year old mother. I knew they would be safe.  That she would never do anything wrong.  She fancied herself a professional…a trusted soul and we loved her for that.
 
Unfortunately I was greedy and wanted more.  I wanted another Stella, a foal who would be just like her.  My husband cautioned me.  He told me that he didn’t think it was a good idea.  Why if something went wrong I would never forgive myself. But I didn’t listen and after two years of relentless nagging, he reluctantly gave in and she was bred.

Her pregnancy went well. Nothing out of the ordinary.  We took every precaution, of course.  She was  boarded at a world-class breeding and training facility.  We took many trips to visit.  She looked great, we were excited.  It looked as if all systems were go.
 
Easter Sunday morning, Stella gave birth to a handsome bay colt with a big white star.  He was leggy, fuzzy and beautiful.  Stella looked tired but she had just given birth…I remember looking into her eye.  Something just didn’t seem right.  I attributed it to the stress of birth.

The foal was nursing and doing well.  Stella however started to colic…a lot.  The usual drugs and tubing weren’t doing the trick any more.  I was in MA, she was in MD.  The farm was on top of her condition, the vet seemed to be coming out daily, but she always seemed to rally until one fateful night.
 
We lost Stella when Hank was just 5 weeks old.  I couldn’t get there to be with her. The hospital never sent me her halter or the piece of her tail my devastated husband asked for…I fell into a pit of despair.  I was riddled with guilt.  I couldn’t get out of my own way.  How could we have gone from utter joy and excitement only five short weeks ago to sheer devastation?  It just didn’t seem fair.  And it was all my fault. Or so I thought.
 
It is only now…6 months and a mild antidepressant later that I can come to grips with what has happened and that even though I pushed my husband hard to breed her…it wasn’t my fault.

I’ve also learned to be grateful for the beautiful gift she left behind.  Her magnificent son.  And even though I no longer have her with me, I know that I have more than many others who have lost their equine friends.  When I look into Hank’s soft brown eye, I see his momma.  Through him she’ll live on.  She’ll forever be found in his eye and live in my heart.














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