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.

How do our brains work such that we can hold such diametrically opposite emotions of hope and grief, love and loss, at the same time?

I had a very strange experience today. At the gym, I saw the dressmaker who made my wedding dress, but I didn't immediately connect who she was. We met almost exactly two years ago. I remembered all the excitement we had in creating my dress, as I had just found out I was pregnant, and the whole wedding was to be a big surprise at my birthday party. Everything was so wonderful, life was just perfect, and this lovely lady entered into the spirit of the event, not minding at all about designing a dress for a rapidly-growing belly, even offering that I could call her while on holiday if there were problems. No-one guessed the big secret, and our surprise wedding turned out perfectly and it was such a happy day. Everyone was delighted that I was pregnant and that I had found such a lovely man I adored, and who adored me. I sent her photos afterward, and then a few months ago, I saw her again at the local shopping centre, and so I went over to introduce Mia to her.

Today, I had all these thoughts rush through my head once I recognised her. But the overwhelming feeling was of sadness too. All that joy of our perfect wedding day, with Mia growing inside me, is disappearing. I look at the photos, and just wish, how I wish, that things could be different. My darling girl, for whom there was so much love, expectation and excitement, is no longer here.

I felt compelled to tell this lovely lady about Mia. Quite a strange thing to do, in hindsight. Of course, she was sympathetic. The only reason I can come up with why I felt so strongly that I so wanted her to know was that I want the whole world to mourn with me for our joint loss of this little person of unknown potential, but at the same time, remember Mia to keep the joy of her presence alive. Pretty selfish, I guess.

Not selfish at all. You keep shouting about Mia to any and all who will listen and even those who don't!

Oh no, not selfish. And not strange either. And whilst she must have been shocked and perhaps also uncomfortable (the whole "What do I say?" thing that most of us suffer from), I bet she won't think it strange or selfish either.

You keep on celebrating Mia with everyone who was a part (however small) of her lovely little life. x

See, firsttimer and I have said almost the same thing. It must be right .

The only reason I can come up with why I felt so strongly that I so wanted her to know was that I want the whole world to mourn with me for our joint loss of this little person of unknown potential, but at the same time, remember Mia to keep the joy of her presence alive. Pretty selfish, I guess.

The part in bold is exactly right, the part not in bold is untrue - its so not selfish, so competely not selfish... of course you must keep the joy that she was alive!

I saw the latest video... the comment I left really didn't articulate how I felt (and I felt a bit wrong commenting when I didn't know her as much, and your family & friends did), so I didn't put that I actually had teardrops rolling down my cheeks when typing; and I smiled, she was so happy (and yes squeaky).

I guess her dad has red hair too, like you? What a little heartbreaker she would have been, and indeed is - just so sadly before her time.

Really the videos & your writing, are so moving, so emotive, so impossible not to know the essence of Mia, that as well as a book, it's a shame you can't make a film of her life... sounds rubbish that idea I know, but I can't help but fall in love with her when I watch her, and I can't help but shiver from the aching pain you must be feeling... I so wish that I could help to change it, and turn it into a warm glow.

It's 3 months on Wednesday that we found out Tamsin had died (which must be around tomorrow night), and it's also my nephew/godson's birthday, how bittersweet xx

It is not selfish at all. Our babies are not here to smile, to play up, to charm. It's up to us to keep their memories alive.

Not selfish, never selfish to keep her memory alive. It's one of the few things we can do now.

Video is just gorgeous, she is glorious xxx

All your lovely words are making me feel better. I just thought I was perhaps being self-indulgent. But yes, you are right, we should celebrate the joy of our children, and what they mean to us.

One good thing did happen today - the dressmaker does a lot of weddings in the local area, and she is going to ask people if they know of land which might be suitable for Mia's Wood.

Karma - so we started down the 'crappy path' around the same time. Tough week for us both. xx

whatever glorious is exactly the right word!

Today I celebrate Mia, and all the wonderful love she brought, and continues to bring, to the world.

I celebrate the love which glows in her eyes in our photos, the laughter and mischief in her smile, the eagerness with which she learnt. Mia, thank you for being our amazing daughter, and for the sublime joy you give us.

I also celebrate how Mia is an active member of our family... I thank them all.

• my sister asking children to song Wheels on the Bus, Mia's favourite song at her 40th birthday celebration
• Mia's cousin creating a little red-headed avatar to join in the Wii games she plays
• Mia's aunt proudly showing off her Mia leaf to work colleagues
• my mother imagining how Mia would be creating toddler havoc, and maybe throwing her first tantrums

We all proudly say her name. Mia, you are enmeshed in our hearts, and your smiles are imprinted on our minds. Forever.

Lovely how your family keep her memory alive in their hearts.
I was imagining Mia's Wood and an image comes to mind of a lovely wood with a carpet of bluebells. I do hope you find it soon. X

Aww chip that is a really, beautiful, emotive image - Wendover Woods always has the most beautiful bluebells.

My mum wanted to share Mia's video, seems those who see her, really are enchanted by her - as well they should be!

Thinking of you, and sending lots of love xx

Well, today has happened, quietly, gently, thanks to thoughtful friends and a caring family.

Mia is also very loved by her friends - one has a photo of her in her "Special people I love" book. Another sang Wheels on the Bus extra loudly, and they discovered that their video of Mia on FB was singing along at the same time. They remember, and they talk about her, and I can imagine her as they all go and develop.

chip a glorious wood of green leaves, bluebells and Mia irises in the spring, as they are my favourite colours ; and magnificent reds and golds in the autumn to remind us of Mia's beautiful hair. That is indeed our vision.

Hope and horror ; love and despair; tears and smiles. They sit side by side in my head, and I never quite know what will emerge at any particular time.

Today I posted the first batch of Mia memory cards, so we could acknowledge all the kindness and support we have had. It has been a work of love. In some way, I felt quite attached to all these cards with a cover of her beautiful birthday photo, a glorious red leaf and her name written in sparklers. Beautiful representations for my child. As I finally put them into the postbox, I felt like I was letting part of her go, a Mia project which wouldn't be there for me anymore. Sad.

But as they flew away, I realised that she would be greeting all the family and friends who love her so dearly, and she would always sit in their hearts as well as ours, her joyful little smile lighting up the world.

I am sure your family and friends who receive the cards with Mia's photo will treasure them, and be grateful that you have thought to thank them despite what you are going through x

Well you are doing far better than me! I know what verse I want and which memorial card I want but somehow haven't managed to place the order! I also want a photo of her when she's awake but in all of them she has the tube in her nose. In all the ones with no tube, she's asleep! So I am hoping ds1 will be able to photoshop the tube out.

Sorry, pressed Post too soon! Your family and friends will treasure the cards. And there will be so many more Mia projects to keep you busy.

Some of our Mia cards arrived today. I know, because some of our friends have contacted me to say how beautiful she is. Of course she is. A blithe little spirit with her cheeky grin.

Today I remembered my pregnancy, and how I felt so powerless to do anything except be the receptacle in which my baby was growing. She was off doing her own thing, growing and changing. Later, I could feel her move, which was exciting, and I knew she was getting to know me, safe inside. And then we met. Now, as I grieve, I am struck by the similarity of circumstances. Mia can see me, feel me, and know my endless love, whereas I can only think about her and wonder if she is doing well, wherever she is. Just that now, the timeframe doesn't seem to have an end... my darling girl.

she has a heart to melt your own
she has a smile that just makes you want to sing

That's Mia.

I hate that missing her, remembering her, is now part of my daily routine. She should be here!! I should be watching her run around with her little mates, playing in puddles and running everywhere.

I hate that I went to meetings yesterday, and that I didn't have to worry about childcare.

I hate that I can seemingly function like a normal person, I can think and reason, and offer opinions on the charities with which I am involved.

I hate to think that perhaps I should look for a job, because I no longer have the motivation to pursue my own business, which was to designed to be worked around her.

I hate that we are forced into this new lifepath that we didn't choose, that we would never choose.

I hate to think that I am forgetting her. I hate that most of all. It scares me.

It's so hard for you, and so unfair that she isn't here and growing up with her little friends. I am not surprised that you have no motivation for your own business, and are finding it hard to accept that everything about your life has changed.
Being able to function and think about other things at times doesn't mean you are forgetting her, but I can appreciate that it must feel that it's a long time since you were with her physically, and that is very hard to cope with.
You will never forget her, and she will continue to influence you and be a part of you whatever happens x

Mias, don't worry for a minute that you'll forget her. She's imprinted on your heart and soul, you could never, ever forget her. I know how you feel about the job situation. I have a two colleagues who lost babies, both of whom opened their own practices rather than go back to the jobs they had.
But bear in mind, you will have lots of projects to run because of Mia and you will have to run your working life around those projects.

Miasmummy the post where you compare your pregnancy to now made me gasp, it was so beautiful. With such clarity of though for Mia you absolutely won't forget her. Sending you love and thinking of you xx

I feel leaden, heavy with sadness. A day where lovely friends allowed me to speak of Mia, despite their own life griefs ; one woman lost her son at birth to an highly treatable infection; another friend is dealing with fertility issues and all the emotional baggage alongside this ; a further friend sat with us and cried, simply because she has two beautiful healthy daughters. That we all hold these burdens within us, and yet carry on, I really find both sad and amazing.

Deep breath. Time for some happy thoughts to chase away the darkness...

I haven't told you how Mia loved the sensation of materials against her face. We never figured out why, but we happily indulged this harmless quirk in our cute little daughter. While she might have developed a distinct distaste for hats, even as a little baby, Mia loved flapping a cloth nappy across her body, and would fall asleep clutching it against her face. Later on, she found the bed valance a source of hysterical laughter and joyous kicking, as she felt it touch her face, then touching it with her hand to cause it to rise and fall again. Similarly, changing the bed linen was a moment to relish as Mia would feel the motion of the air, and bounce up and down with excitement. A particular moment of fun occurred on holiday, when my DH discovered that Mia enjoyed touching the inside of the outdoor umbrellas with the top of her head, and they would giggle together as he lifted her up and down countless times, just because he loved her.

Such happy, precious, delicious moments of Mia.