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.

Five months ago today Mia died. Our world has changed so.

Still, we spent today in the sunshine in the garden. I planted a beautiful birthday present from Mia's little cousins, a Mamma Mia rose which has glorious, fragrant coral-red blooms between June and October. At one point, we wandered down together to Mia's red oak. It has buds on it. DH, like me, gave it a little kiss. Sentimental, yes, but we are filled with so much love for Mia which has no direction. All we can do is nurture Mia's plants, and remain true to our love to her. Far less fulfilling in every way.

We are talking about marking DH's birthday on the summer solstice, with a big party with friends, a bonfire and a bbq. If you could formally change a birth date, like a name, I think he would do so. His actual birthday will never be celebrated again.

Last night, I watched Sport Relief, and recognised the heartbreak and pain in those parents' eyes as they recounted the stories of their lost children. Then I heard with horror as the comedian in that hospital in Africa said those awful words "Can you imagine taking your child to hospital, and then 24 hours later, taking them home to bury them?" Yes, I said, I can imagine it very well. It happens here too. Terrible images flashed through my head. But for Mia, it happened in less than six hours, in a hospital in this country with access to top-notch healthcare, where she didn't face the challenges of lack of hygiene or a preventable disease, yet she still died...

My beautiful girl, so full of life and laughter, died so very quickly. Gone. Why?

Miasmummy I thought of you and your beautiful sparkly Mia last night as I watched the same thing. I lit a candle and sent my love to you all. I wish things could be different.

I love your idea of the summer solstice celebration for your dh. You are so remarkable to keep looking forward, and to be able to even think of such things, despite your pain. I'm sure you don't always feel strong, but it shines through.

Miasmummy - you are right. You expect these things in Africa - we have grown up with images of dying African babies, and do the charity stuff every year. It is very tragic how it never changes.

But yes, you don't expect that here. If your child is ill you expect for them to be fixed. Quickly, or not so quickly - but fixed none the less. To go from healthy child to bereavement in the space of a few hours.....Unthinkable. I don't know how you get your head around that at all.

Trying to hold to my 2012 mantra - Love and light. Some days it is easier than others to live by this.

Love the Rose for Mia and her Mamma!

It's a week of roses, Mias. Yesterday I took delivery of some lovely Roses which are to be planted in our Sylvie-Rose garden. Sent by the lovely ladies on my thread whose babies were all due in November 2011. Nice that we both got roses around the same time xx

Much love to you MiasMummy and Chip

Mias, I just looked at that Mamma Mia rose. What a perfectly coloured Rose for your flame-haired girl!

chip it's gorgeous, isn't it? Just hope as a newbie gardener, I will do it justice. What were the names of the roses that were sent to you? What a lovely kind gesture from your November ladies.

I am so proud of my brother today. He completed an Ironman event in Australia (3.8km swim, 180km bike ride, then a marathon-length run) in 11 hours, which is superb. But what made his effort extra-special was that he cycled with a little photo of Mia on his helmet, and he ran the last 20km with a photo of Mia. I cried when I found out about his lovely act of love. He didn't tell anyone his plans, but simply thought it would be a nice gesture. Apparently, he heard lots of comments about our little red-headed girl as he ran into the finish. My little girl, who couldn't even walk properly, has now completed an ironman competition with her uncle!

Pride and love, as usual, are dominant in my feelings for Mia. And my family.

Mias, the roses are Lady Sylvia and Peace Rose. I am also hoping I do mine justice, if there is a "For Dummies" book on Rose-growing, I will be buying it.
Your brother sounds amazing! And he had Mia there to push him along! No better coach!

What an acheivement for your brother and how lovely that he had a picture of Mia with him.
I'm sure he felt her presence very close as he battled through the physical pain and felt lifted by her love to get him to the finish line.

Wishing you love and light but also peace, hope and strength.

It's funny that you both mention Mia pushing my brother along. I did ask him, jokingly, if she helped, and he said that she did keep him going - he did far better than he thought he would, based on his training preparation. I know Mia is very clever, but I didn't know she was fit too!

chip beautiful roses. I am relying on miasgrandad for advice, and will pass on the tips.

Chip. Peace, also known as Madame Meilland, has been judged to be the world's most nearly perfect rose. When the roses at our local church needed renewal recently, we planted one bed entirely with Peace.
Roses are pretty tough, but like all living things, need some water and feeding. The one thing they don't need is glyphosate (a herbicide) anywhere near them. Older hormonal herbicides are bad too, but are less easily obtained these days.
We are waiting until the newly developed rose, named "Mia" in honour of our Mia, is available. Unfortunately it is not likely to ever to get to the UK, but not being in the UK, we at least will have the pleasure of its beauty, if not the baby which was the inspiration for it.

Thanks so much, MiasGrandad. My own Dad was an expert in horticulture but sadly died in 2002, so I can't ask his advice. It took me a long time to stop thinking "I must ask Dad" whenever I had a gardening question. Lovely that Mia's grandad can advise me, although I like to think Sylvie-Rose's grandad is looking after Sylvie-Rose for me.

chip I love the thought of your perfect rose for your perfect girl...

I am around a few other children of similar ages to Mia at the moment. I watch them do things, bending over to examine pebbles, running energetically with arms and legs everywhere, staring in fascination at the swimming ducks and squawking back at them, and just being amazed by the sights of the world around them. And I think "Oh, yes, Mia does that" or "Mia makes that cute happy gurgling sound too"... but she doesn't. She did once, just not anymore. I don't know whether I seek subconsciously to see her gestures in other children, or if all children do similar things at similar ages, but I guess logically, it's probably the latter. But I just see her doing so many things, accompanying me in my head. I just want her here in real life.

I saw Mia's little friend, the one who still plays with her, and who thinks she is a star. We were outside, and he suddenly insisted that Mia wasn't up in the sky anymore. "Mia come down" he said. He kept on saying it, and wasn't at all satisfied with his mother's embarrassed response that that no, she was in the sky. He told us, in his two-year-old language, that Mia wanted to read books with him in bed, both wearing their pyjamas.

Who knows? Perhaps she does read bedtime stories with him. It is a comforting thought.

Baby girl - I would read Yellow Worm or the Baby Hippo's bellybutton, or anything you want, backwards or forwards, countless times, if I only could.

Mias, I saw a little girl in the supermarket today, with a mop of curly, red hair, so pretty. I saw her several times in different aisles and thought of Mia all the time.

Ah. I bet that little girl was gorgeous.

I am missing Mia desperately right this second. I will miss her all my life. All the years that should be hers, all the years we should be sharing, all that she should have once I am gone. It is just wrong. It is so draining.

I am so sorry this happened thinking of you

Your words of Mia are so beautiful, it makes me think of a lovely girl in a red dress running and laughing though a field of poppies. Mia is with you; in every breath, every thought, every action, every smile and every tear. I often think of you and Mia, you will one day find happiness. xx

Today I voluntarily spent the day babysitting one of Mia's friends, as her parents had childcare issues. It was lovely, and she is a wonderfully, sweet, enchanting little girl. But I was very conscious that she wasn't Mia. At her Tumble Tots class, I actually did call her Mia by mistake a few times, and it hurt so much making the correction. I had to take a deep breath when they sang Happy Birthday to a little two-year-old boy. A birthday that Mia will never have.

It was wonderful holding a warm little body in my arms again, feeling her nestle into my neck as she began to tire. It was lovely being brought 'cups of tea' and playing tea parties. It was amazing to see her respond to my questions, and sing bits of nursery rhymes, obviously understanding so much language now. Yet it hurt incredibly too - visible, close-up evidence of all the special, yet everyday things I should be doing with my little girl. Mia had so much potential, and she was already developing such a sparkly, quirky little personality, and now I can't see how she would evolve.

I feel like I can almost see into a wonderful, magical world, but I'm not allowed in. I can only press my nose to the glass, and catch glimpses of all the exciting happenings inside, every so often when the door briefly opens.

However, I am shut out. So is Mia. And we aren't even together. So wrong, so very, very wrong.

Dear Mia's mummy,
What a day of emotions for you, pain, love and injustice.
I personally think that it's wonderful that you still are able to spend time with Mia's friends. Although the constant reminder of how old Mia should be is heartbreaking you choose to share the joy, love and happy days of the little people around you.
Sharing this joy is so important and keeping the love and light shining in your life.

I was so touched that Mia's little friend was talking about her coming from the stars to play.
Out of the mouths of babes....
Her friend feels her presence, her love and I hope you gain comfort from knowing how important Mia is to so many people.

Thoughts and prayers for you all. Jo

I think your description of being able to see but not partake fully in the magical world is so apt. I cannot imagine the mixed emotions looking after a friend of Mia's must have been - you are so very kind to help people out like that. I can't imagine being able to put myself in that position if I were you.

Wishing you light and love.

You are showing amazing courage to be able to spend time looking after Mia's little friend, even though it so painful because it shows you the things Mia would have learned by now, and brings your loss into sharp focus.
It is so wrong that you will never get to experience all that she would have become, but her spirit will always be with you. Thinking of and praying for you too x

I shocked myself tonight. I had been invited out with a group of local businesswomen, for a fun night out. I only knew the organiser, who had gathered together an interesting mix of lively, intelligent women. I was chatting to one, and she asked if I had children. I said "No". No?!? Immediately I felt horrified and guilty that I had denied Mia in that way. I could not believe I had done such a thing. I couldn't let such an untruth stand, so at an appropriate moment a minute or two later, I apologised and said that "I do have a daughter, but she died five months ago at the age of thirteen months." Fortunately, this lady was very kind, and said "You are on a long journey then. Grief never passes, from what I understand." We then moved onto other topics, but I felt so relieved that I had not, could not, let such an omission stand.

I think she might be right. Mia, my beautiful girl, I am missing you so.