The Story Of My Son, Kaleb RhysI will never forget the day that I lost my son. April 5th of 09 at 5 a.m. The day before everything was normal. I was visiting a relative, called my estranged father, and just living my life. That night is when it all happened.
Before his loss, I did experience some pains and being stubborn, I refuse to go see a doctor. Keep insisting that I was fine. I still beat myself up over that to this very day. I got pushed into a table at my old job, saw the doctor, I was fine. But after that, I kept having pains, couldn't keep food down. Went to the doctor. She said I was fine. Thirteen days later, which was April the 5th, I woke up to sharp pains. Called my husband, since I had the car at home [because I took him to work], the man ran 2 miles home. Rushed me to the emergency room. The nurse couldn't find a heartbeat, so they go a mobile ultrasound machine in the room. My ob/gyn looked at me and said, "Your baby is dead."
My husband burst into tears. I just looked at the doctor with a blank look on my face. I refused to believe him. I kept insisting that he was alive because I could feel him, but no I was having muscule spasm due to internal bleeding. I had to deliver my son with no drugs due to fluids around my spinal cords. That early morning, I had to get two bags of blood. I buried Kaleb on a Wednesday and since that date, every single year, I become zombified. I can't move. All I do is cry. Now I have a daughter [she'll be two at the end of the month]. I feel blessed to have her, but I wished her big brother could be here with her.
She often asked about him, out of the blue, and it brings a tear to our eyes because we haven't really talked to her about him. I feel like her age isn't old enough. However, I have my son's name with an angel tatted on my back. It hurts my heart to see how people abuse, neglect, harm their children. I would do anything to hold my son or even to have him in my life again.