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.

In some ways now, I almost don't mind the pain. It reassures me that Mia was real, and that my love for her is real. More than happy photos from the past, Mia was, and will always be, my darling child. Loved then, loved now, loved forever.

Tears are liquid love. So much love for Mia within.

My DH said yesterday that he is filled right up from his toes to his eyes with such enormous love for Mia, and sometimes it just overflows... How I know the feeling.

astra I have thought about bereavement groups, and have looked into the Compassionate Friends and the Child Bereavement Trust, but neither forum seems quite right for me / us at the moment. We do have a strong circle of family and friends with whom we can talk about Mia, celebrate her life and laugh at her quirks, and that seems to be working ok for the moment.

dubai sorry, I didn't explain myself - we are buying the house we currently rent, so in theory, that should make life easier than moving, so hoping it will all go smoothly. Just so wish Mia could enjoy the garden as we had planned.

Ah, that makes more sense to me now about the house. Moving would indeed not be the best thing to do right now in my humble opinion, being as it is one of the most stressful things to do, and I imagine it would have been very hard to leave the house where Mia shared such wonderful times with you both.

What your DH says makes so much sense - even reading that about two people I don't know fills me with deep emotion.

You wrote a while back that you worried you might be forgetting Mia, but I don't believe that there's even an ounce of truth in that. Your descriptions and stories are so very vivid and wonderful, and you seem to have known her inside and out, every inch of her, every facial expression and squeal of delight, every change of mood, however slight, every new exploration and discovery of hers. There's no way you'll ever forget her. She lives on through you and your husband and the love you have for her.

I do worry about forgetting Mia. Not the everyday things, like her big smile and her soft red curls, and the way she felt in my arms - but other events. I don't want to forget a single second. Each moment with Mia elevated my life to a new level of happiness.

I did remember one such event yesterday, as I walked through IKEA. Last time I was there, Mia sat in the cart, swinging her legs and bouncing back and forth as we meandered through the carefully-constructed retail maze. I found the toys and furniture we bought for her, and saw the things we had expected to buy at Christmas. Then I remembered how Mia and I went to the restaurant, where she shared my chicken and vegetables, distracted by the noise of other children. She watched them so eagerly, trying to figure out what they were doing, pointing to indicate her fascination. Finally, we went to the cafe play area, and she could be amongst them, and an older girl played with her. It was all so exciting!!

I never thought IKEA could be such an emotional place.... Yet another Store Where I Have Cried. Thought I had found them all now.

I'm really glad you are not leaving that house Miasmummy, congratulations on the impending purchase.

I came across these words today and thought of you and Mia, cheek to cheek:

I know I'll see the sun shine bright
upon my baby's face....
When I finally get to heaven,
all my pain will be erased.

We'll soar the skies together,
as angels two by two.
We'll have a sweet reunion,
this mother's dream come true!

"Angels two by two"...I love that.

Much love and a giant hug xxx

That's lovely dubai

dubai thank you, that is truly lovely. I just wish I could be with her now.

Some positive news about Mia's Wood. We had the meeting, and the general manager of the conference centre was so encouraging, so open to helping us create our living legacy to Mia, that we came away quite excited. Of course, lots of details are yet to be discussed, but merely the fact that she was willing to talk, and that she could see the possibilities of making it happen, was a great beginning. As it happens, she had already thought of planting a new wood on the property - of beautiful acers and maples, just as we imagined!

Great news about the wood Miasmummy. Fingers and toes crossed here x

I am so lonely. I miss you so much, my darling girl. It hurts unbearably, not having you here.

I know people want to help, but they can't comfort me, despite their kind intentions. When I am sad, it's too late. What am I supposed to do, sit there and cry down the phone and make them feel helpless? It's just easier to be by myself sometimes. Other times, I have to force myself to get out of the house to exercise or meet friends, if only to distract me for a while.

I thought I was moving forward, but today is so hard. It's two weeks until Mia's inquest starts, and I am so scared. We want to know the truth, but I have no coping mechanisms to help me through. I have no idea how I am going to listen to impersonal, impartial information about my darling, squeaky, beautiful child who has been ripped from my arms. And no matter what, the result doesn't bring her back

Need some good thoughts, quickly...

Beannacht ("Blessing")

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.
.
John O'Donohue
~ Echoes of Memory ~

Oh Mia. My light. My sunshine.

I wrote that poem out recently for a friend whose brother died unexpectedly. It's a wonderful poem.

I'm so sorry you're feeling sad. That sounds so flippant, sorry.

Do you have to go to the inquest? When my cousin died, I didn't go. I didn't want to hear, like you say, totally objective talk about somebody I'd loved and hugged.

I have been to inquests and they are solemn and respectful. The coroner and everyone else there have a caring and serious duty to explain and clarify how an important life came to an end and to make sure that any lessons are learnt for the benefit of others. There is real dignity and compassion there, it is not impersonal or cold, although it is sad. There has been a programme on bbc1 this week, 'Death Unexplained' about the West London coroner, which you could look at on iplayer, if it would help you to prepare a little.

I'm sorry you are hurting and missing your darling daughter so much. No one can truly comfort you, because we can't bring Mia back, but I hope that talking to your loved ones and writing on here is helping a bit. Please don't ever think you are burdening anyone with your sadness. I'm sure your true friends want to be alongside you in your pain and your grief.

I hadn't seen that poem before, and it's beautiful.

I'm sure the inquest will be hard to face, but from personal experience I found my sister's inquest helped me, because it answered some of the questions I had. I hope that you will be given some support and guidance about what to expect from the Coroners officer. Take care x

Thank you ladies for your responses about my fears of Mia's inquest, your suggestions are really helpful. I think I will have a look at that BBC1 programme mentioned too.

I guess you are right, my friends and family do want to help me bear this terrible pain, and I know that they share our profound loss and confusion. But nothing, nothing they can do, with the best will in the world, will change things. We are all powerless. Their love for me and my DH is enormous, and I know they all would do anything to bring Mia back for us. I just want her back. And I can't.

At least I am no longer afraid of dying. It sounds morbid, and I don't mean it how it sounds, but I just cling to the hope that perhaps, perhaps I might be with Mia again one day. I can then tell her just how very much I love her, each and every day of my life.

Dear Mia's Mummy - This is the first time I've posted on this thread, but I've been reading it for some time. I just have to let you know that I think you are so very, very strong and brave. I really do. I know you don't feel it, but you are. My son is 16 months old - if anything were to happen to him, my world would stop turning. Just getting up and going out each day makes you amazing in my book. I looked at your pics of Mia - what a gorgeous little flower she is. She is so very loved, and you can see by the look in her eyes that she knew it. She knows it. You never need to worry about that. I believe that the dead are always with us, every step of every day, Mia will ALWAYS be with you, a beautiful angel to watch over you. God bless you xx

vicki such thoughtful words, thank you. I do so hope Mia is with me... my head is filled with her.

I was watching some videos of Mia, and one of the family favourites is Squeaky Bee. "Squeak the bee, Mia" says DH softly, "Squeak the bee". She is only about five months old, and is sitting in her playpen, and looks up. She has squeaky bee, her toy du jour, an extraordinary red and yellow spotted bee, garish as only a child's plaything can be, in her hand. Mia has just discovered that it squeaks if she presses it against her neck, and pumps her hand up and down like a bagpipe. We think it is so funny, and prompt her to 'squeak the bee' every day - well, until she is so enthusiastic with it that he is thrown out of the stroller while walking...

My sister searched the web for another one, which now sits in our bedroom. We still love Squeaky Bee, and copy Mia's special method of making it squeak, and we remember those wonderful days when she made us laugh.

:(

Oh MiasMummy, my heart bleeds for you and your DH. :(

MiasMummy - still thinking of you, still wishing for that impossible magic wand and still one hundred percent positive that your Mia is with you. Always. And one day you will see her and hold her again. You will.

The squeaky bee story made me smile. Such a vivid image.

X

I have to believe I will see Mia again. The alternative is untenable. It is hard enough anyway...

This morning I woke in the dark, before the alarm, as I often do. Somehow, without light and full consciousness, I lie there and think, somehow protected from feeling too much... Mia is gone. She died. She really did. She died. I saw her. It's true. I can't change it or wish it away or make it better. But just what I supposed to do with knowledge? How does knowing this fact augment my life? It doesn't, I am diminished. And yet, this is my life. It will never get better. Mia will never be here again.

I loved her, I love her, I will always love her.

I feel I am her mummy more than ever.

Mia darling, your daddy is fighting so hard for you. He is doing everything he can to ensure there is full information about why you died. It is his way of protecting you now. I know it is stressful and tiring for him, but it is something he has to do for his beloved little girl, his beautiful daughter who gave him a whole new world of love and joy. He misses you so much, darling.

Just thinking of you and Mia. I am so sorry.

Much love and many hugs for you.

A sad little moment. I said to DH that I want to get him something he really wants for Valentine's Day, and he said that he can't ever have what he really wants... we both started to cry.

Oh Mia'sMummy you poor, poor things. It must be so incredibly hard to try to maintain a 'normal' life again when your lives are anything but.

Well done on your DH for being so brave with the inquest. It must be very, very tough.

We were with friends last night, and one said that she is amazed how we can function at all. I am too. The worst has happened. Mia isn't here.

My world has certainly stopped turning. Yet, I am still in orbit, spinning around Mia's love, sometimes slowing, sometimes only moving through the momentum from other forces around me. But the strength of my love for Mia is far greater than gravity or any natural laws. It is limitless, all enduring.

I was given a good example the other day about bravery. A friend's sister has a gradual disease which is slowly robbing her of movement. When told she is so strong, she snorts and says "I would be brave if I had willingly chosen this life. I have no choice."