My beautiful red-headed 13-month daughter died totally unexpectedly

[MiaAlexandrasmummy]

I have never posted on mumsnet before, while my beautiful Mia was alive, although I read all the advice often. So I feel a bit of a fraud now - I can't be her mummy anymore.

She died nearly four weeks ago now. We had the most beautiful, touching service, with our families from all over the world with us, and we have been so touched by all the love shown to us by friends, friends of family, friends of friends, and even people who we don't even know.

But I hurt so much. The pain returns afresh each day, overwhelming me, even though I am managing to get up, get out of the house, and function on a basic level.

Mia wasn't supposed to die. She was so happy, developing well, eating well, with no sign of illness. But she was, it turns out.

I am her mummy, and she spent so much time with me. How could I not know?? How can we go on and adapt to a life without her? Obviously, people manage somehow, but I keep fighting the fact that she is really gone, and we will never see her smile again, kiss her soft curls or hold her in our arms. It is so wrong.

Sadly, we know a lot of the answers around why Mia died. We just don't know how why became sick, and how she caught this infection in the first place... Yes, lots of what-ifs, but if we can find any answers, it would help DH a lot.

Miasmummy I do understand why you'd question yourself but, truthfully, you sound like the most fantastic Mummy and Daddy. There's been a few things you've said about how you loved and lived with Mia that have made me change (for the better) how I do things with DS. If parents like you couldn't see what was wrong with Mia, then I am quite certain it was impossible for anyone to see it.

I asked my brother for the woodlands website - it has a very obvious domain name www.woodlands.co.uk - so I am certain your DH will have seen it already, but just in case.

Thinking of you.
x

We both adored being Mia's parents. It was, and remains, our proudest and happiest accomplishment. It was easy.

But it is so hard being Mia's mummy when she isn't here. So painful to see the nonchalance of other parents - you are right, chip. I know parenthood can be challenging, but this has to be worse. Being a parent when your baby isn't here anymore...

I was in Pret today, and it made me think of Mia eating lunch there one day when we were out. I was so proud of her, eating proper cheese sandwich squares, daintily consuming one square before carefully reaching into the plastic for the next one. I thought I would burst with love and pride, as it was a far cry from her rather more exuberant eating habits at home. A few tears.

It seems that Mia has turned up for meals with the grand-daughter of another friend too. This little girl was given a kitchen for Christmas, and regularly invites her cousins over. However, my friend tells me that Mia has recently made an appearance at meal times too. Interesting - she only met Mia once. My friend isn't too sure if Mia has the opportunity to say much, as the little girl is a chatterbox, but I am sure that Mia will be consuming whatever fantasy dish is on offer with great gusto!!

I so love my hungry little caterpillar. I wish I could touch her curls and soft cheeks.

dubai thanks for the website. We have had a look there too, and a chat to the team behind it, and there might be some opportunities for land coming up soon.

I do have happy moments. Just not so often these last couple of days. I have to believe that one day I will feel joy again. Searing pain too, because I will never have that unique little red-headed source of joy again...

Looking over photos, I have realised that all the ones of Mia and I always have our cheeks touching, and her little arms are curled around me, and we both have huge smiles of contentment, just by being together. Touch was such a source of comfort for us both. Sometimes after a early morning feed, Mia and I would fall asleep together, Mia snuggled into my neck. It was the most beautiful way to wake up. Even when she was crawling around the house, fiercely independent, she would come back to me and reach up for a cuddle, and then after a few moments of mummy-time, she would be ready to explore again. Completely endearing - I would fall in love with her every day.

I cannot tell you just how much I cherish these memories, yet at the same time resent them as poor comparisons of my little girl.

I'm glad you have some happy moments, miasmummy amongst all that pain. It sounds like you're having a bad few days, which is to be expected.

Those lovely memories are so precious and so lovely, hang to those, albeit that they are a shadow of the real Mia. x

A lovely Mia story from a friend...

^I wanted to share a memory with you. I went to the supermarket today and picked up some avocado. I suddenly had a vivid memory of Mia and my DD together from when I did lunch for them both at your house.

Mia squished most of her avocado into her hands and then proceeded to reach over and smear it onto my DD's hand who willingly put her hand up to let her; they both laughed so much, feeling the gooey slimy texture, neither actually ate it - they just created home-made face and hair packs. They were giggling with sheer mischievous delight in their eyes. I had to laugh too but was left wondering where do I start with cleaning them both up?! I'm sure they were thinking the same.

Remembering them together really made me smile to myself. I probably had funny looks from people as I stood smiling with tears in my eyes whilst holding an avocado, not that I care.^

Such a beautiful friend who shows me how she cares - and how very Mia!

What a sweet story and another vivd memory for you and your friend, how lovely of her to share that with you.

Life is so cruel sometimes. Your thread was heartbreaking. I am so sorry for the loss of your beautiful little girl.

What a lovely story. Memories from other people about Mia must be like precious little gifts to you now xx

Oh Miasmummy - I just popped in to catch up and I'm crying again. Thank you so much for sharing Mia with us - I can picture all the incidents you describe so clearly. You have made me realisethat every moment I have with my children is precious and should be cherished, so this year I have resolved to be a more patient and attentive mummy and to slow down the pace of my life so that I can be more involved in theirs.

I just wish I could show you all just how lovely my daughter is. I hate that I can't. Mia is the best thing ever. I want her back, and now I can't write because I have too many tears.

Mia'smummy my heart breaks for you, nothing I can say will make it better and I so I will say nothing but lots of hugs to you both.

Time to concentrate on happy Mia stories again. I feel like I am losing her unless I do...

When Mia was really starting to stand up properly, I decided it was time for her first real shoes. Off we went to John Lewis, ready to be fitted. It was a big moment. We had to wait for a long time, as there were other parent and child combos seeking new shoes too, but that didn't matter. Mia crawled under the chairs, examined all the display shoes, and grinned and waved happily at all the staff going in and out of the staff quarters nearby. They were charmed at this cheerful little dot, and she attracted quite a lot of attention. Finally, it was our turn, and the salesman approached with his special foot-measuring stool and a smile... and then all hell broke loose. Mia took one look at him and her smiling demeanour changed into a screaming, crying extravaganza. I still don't know why! But the poor salesman just didn't know where to look or what to do, he was just so embarrassed. I thought it was quite funny, but did manage to hustle through the whole shoe-fitting experience so his torture wasn't too prolonged. I still smile thinking about that poor man!

At home that night, Mia was most intrigued by her new shoes, and she loved that they made a 'tappy' noise on the kitchen floor as she trotted around holding my hands and crowing with delight. Walking was so exciting, and she could tell we were pleased with her, which made the experience even more fun for her. She even started copying my DH as he attempted tap-dancing, wibblying around on unsure little legs, but determined to master this new challenge. She slept well that night.

Such cute little shoes, barely even used. Such a funny little girl, so full of love and life.

Such wonderful memories of your beautiful little girl, and I too feel as if I know Mia through your words. I am sure you will treasure those little shoes. It's so heartbreaking that she isn't here any more, when she was clearly loved so much. Thinking of you and your DH x

What lovely memories, Mias. Write every one of them down and hold on to them.

Mia darling, the house is crowded with so many lovely memories of you, filled with light and laughter. It feels so dark and empty now - it's more than just the cold weather, I feel my heart is numb, unable to feel anymore. We both fill our days with activity and to-do lists, but it all seems so pointless... You and I would have such fun, whether it was pulling you around in the empty washing basket, or playing with the mirror, or simply tidying up the bedroom as you played with your daddy's bedside table. I'd talk about the day's plans and you would listen carefully, somehow understanding my words. I love you so.

I can't reconcile these magical times with what happened to you, my innocent child. How?? Why?? I want to see you asleep in my arms, content and safe.

miasmummy I'm just so sorry she has gone. It's utterly wrong. With love and hope xxx

It's positive that you can share your pain, numbness and emptiness alongside your happy memories that bring Mia to life on the page. I can hear your sense of disbelief that this could happen. No one can take the pain away, but there is so much compassion for you from everyone on here x

miasmummy, I've been thinking of you all afternoon. I don't really have anything else to say apart from that, I just wanted you to know that you are often in my thoughts. Your life is not what it once was but so much love, stength, open-ness, honesty and intelligence resonates in everything you share with us it is simple for the rest of us to see joy and happiness in your future. I know you can't see that right now but please let us keep on thinking and hoping for your future while you deal with today.

Huge cuddles xxx

Thank you all for letting me share both the good and the bad. It does help so much.

I do worry that I am forgetting Mia, because she is no longer part of my daily life... sometimes both her life and her death, feel like dreams. One, impossible beautiful with a bright eager little face to greet me every day and fill me with amazing happiness ; the other, nightmarish images, indescribable pain and grief, shock and absolute horror. Then there is the numbness, where I can speak about her coherently, without tears - but always with pride and love.

My DH said something sad this morning "I think I am really beginning to understand that Mia isn't coming back. I somehow have kept on hoping, but it isn't going to happen, is it?" There was nothing adequate I could say in response. I don't know where I am. Most of the time now, I realise that my unique bundle of joy has disappeared forever, but then I wonder if perhaps, I too, am not yet accepting of the horrible truth and I am deluding myself with my happy thoughts of Mia. I SO want to wish her back.

We all want to wish her back for you. I don't know what else to say, really, I don't. I think you sound so strong, so amazingly together (even though I'm sure you'd refute that) as you creep along this awful journey. I admire you.

((((Hugs))))

Not quite believing she isn't coming back is part of normal grieving, and it takes time for the reality of that to sink in at a deeper level. It sounds like you and your DH are able to share your feelings with eachother and support eachother well. You won't ever forget her and she will always be a part of you. I hope that you will write a book about her one day; I think it might be helpful to other bereaved parents.

Mias, on one level I know Sylvie-Rose isn't coming back, on another level, I pray every day that she does. I pretend to myself that God will make an exception for me ( I'm that special) and that one day, I will walk into my bedroom and she will be back in the Moses basket and no-one else will know she was ever gone because the memory of her passing will be wiped from their minds.
And then I have to tell myself that that never happens. Not to anyone, not to the best or to the worst of people.

I think it is normal to feel that way and perhaps it's our way of protecting ourselves.

Mias as GRW said - you do bring Mia to life with your words, you really do.

And you know she's not forgotten, even as an avatar, she is still loved, wanted & chosen by those who knew & loved - no - love her xx

I am so very sorry for your loss. I don't know how one carries on after this, but I am in awe of you in that you are brave in sharing your grief.
As others have said, you will always always be her Mummy.