Caleb's Stillbirth, 5 Years Later

Abstract

Caleb's Stillbirth, 5 Years Later Jill Wieber Lens My son Caleb should have turned five this summer and started kindergarten in the fall. I was so happy to be pregnant with him. I had two daughters and couldn't wait to meet my first son. I bought so many baby boy clothes for my sweet little guy. So many. I couldn't wait to bring him home from the hospital in his little rocket outfit and hat that said, "Beyond Cute." We had a doctor's appointment when I was 36 weeks and 6 days pregnant. Everything looked good and we had started to talk about scheduling an induction. I hadn't convinced my husband yet, but I wanted to have labor induced when I was 39 weeks pregnant. Two days later, on Father's Day 2017, I installed Caleb's car seat to prepare for his birth. That night, I woke up around 11:00 feeling uncomfortable. I walked around a little and went back to sleep. I woke up again around midnight, feeling the same discomfort. I knew something was off, but I wasn't that concerned (certainly not to the extent I should have been). We went to the hospital around 2:00 am because my brother was in town and could watch my daughters. When the nurses put the monitors on my belly, they couldn't find his heartbeat. I remember them getting more nurses to try. At some point, they stopped trying. But no one said it out loud. I remember when all the nurses later rushed back in when I started screaming, processing the fact that Caleb had died in my belly only weeks before his due date. Hours later, an ultrasound confirmed what was already obvious. Still though, no one said it out loud. I texted my doctor at 4:00 am that they couldn't find Caleb's heartbeat. Around an hour later, as the on-call doctor finally told us that Caleb had died, my doctor joined us. I was also told that I needed to give birth immediately because I was bleeding internally. (At the time, the doctors thought I had a placental abruption—that my placenta had detached from my uterus, depriving Caleb of oxygen and killing him. I learned about three years later from a placental specialist that I likely did not have an abruption. Regardless, I was bleeding internally and needed to give birth to Caleb right away). I was unable to get an epidural because of my internal bleeding. I remember asking my doctor how I was supposed to do this—natural childbirth, which I had never done before, and for my dead son. She offered to do a c-section, but I didn't want surgery on top of everything else. My doctor gave me drugs to knock me out. I don't remember much of Caleb's birth. The pain of the contractions woke me up numerous times. I remember reaching down to try to figure out what was causing me such pain. I didn't need to be there mentally though; my body knew how to give birth. I woke up later to see my husband holding Caleb. My first words were, "is that our baby"? It was. Caleb Marcus Lens was 5 pounds, 15.8 ounces, and 19 inches long. He was beautiful and looked like a sleeping baby. The only noticeable difference was that his body was not as warm as it should have been. Honestly though, I doubt I would have noticed had I not previously held my daughters right after their births. ______ Caleb changed everything. I grew up that day in a way no one should have to. I don't know that I'll ever really appreciate the trauma I went through and continue to go through. I'm a different person now. I'm grateful for the person that Caleb made me. But please don't suggest that I should focus on any good that has come out of Caleb's death. And spare me the idea that "everything happens for a reason." Nothing can make Caleb's death justifiable. Nothing can make it okay...