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.

Dubai thank you for such a beautiful and apt image of a tapestry. Such powerful words. Mine does have a huge rent across it, and despite all the love threads from family and friends, I suspect my Mia hole can never be completely patched over. The extent of the damage is beyond repair. I will always see a little tuft of glorious red curls and a bright, inquisitive eye, and perhaps a curious finger poking through... And I shall always touch that finger softly, clinging to precious moments of love.

I've read your thread but not posted before. You write so beautifully about your lovely daughter it's impossible not to be touched by your words and your terrible loss.
I truly hope the pain of losing Mia eases for you, while your loving memory of her stays as strong as ever.
I know it's not the same as the loss of a beloved child, but I lost my mam 18 years ago when she was only 46, and was crippled by grief. One night I dreamt of her, and it was so real it was as if she was really there with me. I remember asking her where she was and she said "I'm everywhere, I'm the universe", and I got and still get comfort from that. I can't see her, but I see her in everything that is beautiful, and that is the same as your glorious girl.
Take care and know that you daughter continues to touch many people x

I have never posted before but I wanted to say how moving and loving your posts are. You write so beautifully, I almost feel I know your lovely Mia. xxx

I always just write what I feel, and often it is inspired by the wonderful responses and thoughts shared here by others.

flubba my DH is better this week, although he does suppress the negative emotions a lot of the time. He is using his work in the garden as an unconscious therapy. We are going away for Easter, and I have suggested that perhaps this would be a good time for him to start the illustrations to the set of rhymes I have written for Mia's Adventures.

Like you and your mother, lady gago, I do feel Mia is part of my universe. Every day. Today, I feel very close to her. I received some good news, and came downstairs to hear the beautiful lilting song of a blackbird, which kept on for ten minutes or more. I was sure it was from her. It sounds foolish, but often I pray to Mia - not as a guardian angel, just as someone I know and love very much.

Yesterday, a letter was slipped through our mailbox, addressed only To the dear family who were bereaved of their little daughter last year. Sent with neighbourly love and compassion. It had no sender's name on it, because the person (and I am sure it was a woman) did not want her family to know, in case one or other of us were embarrassed by her actions. While she does not know us personally, it seems that she has been thinking of us since last October when her family shared the news of Mia with her, and she finally decided to write to us, after much thought, compelled by compassion. Enclosed were some leaflets about God and biblical quotes in a text about parents and the loss of a child.

Both I and my DH were very touched. By the emotion which prompted the letter more than anything else.

How lovely of your neighbour.

I hope you and your DH have a relaxing and peaceful time away together over Easter. It would be a perfect accompaniment to your rhymes and stories about Mia's Adventures for him to illustrate them! What a wonderful idea!

Sitting in a cheap hotel in France, halfway there, having been accosted by waves of memories of Mia. At Easter last year, we did a similar road trip, with Mia packed into the back seat amongst all the baby gear we deemed necessary for a trip away, munching on cucumber and rice-cakes, while we sang silly songs to her.

Earlier, we passed a sign for fast food at a services break, which brought back the lovely memory of Mia playing with my drinking straw as we sat there, tapping it on my head like a wand, touching the steering wheel with it, and trying in vain to climb over me while clutching it fiercely. We kept that same straw for weeks - Mia loved it so much, she even played with it in bed.

On the Eurotunnel itself, Mia played happily on DH's lap, again totally fascinated by the wheel and gear stick. I remember that as the whole train carriage had no air-conditioning and it was very hot, the guard saw Mia and took us into his special cooled area, where he and his taciturn French counterpart would sit each journey. Mia did her very best to make them smile, with lots of cute noises, wiggling and arm-waving, but it appeared that this was against work protocol...

It was such a happy trip. Despite the long journey, Mia was very good. And we have so many photos to bring back that holiday. It hurts so much - I am now accustomed to the familiar, beautiful memories of Mia at home, but these ones feel so fresh and new. Our first family Easter sojourn... Now I wish I could just fall back into those amazing days.

How I loved looking after Mia. I loved loving her.

Safe trip Miasmummy, I hope it is peaceful and that you feel close to your darling girl xx

Your wishes are coming true, love and light to you.xxx

So sad and im so sorry to hear about your loss i xant even begin to feel how it you feel right now.xx

I was curious about what another poster meant so I investigated...! Now I feel a bit nosey! BUT I'm so bloody happy for you I cried ... Have fun in France and I know this is mias thread but xxxxxxxx to all ;-)

Miasmummy- I read in a book once, a quote from a mother who had lost her child, writing to another mother in the same position:
"You will never ever stop loving her. You will think about her every single day for the rest of your life. Take comfort from that."

Astralabe got me curious and now I'm feeling rather nosey also, but feelings echoed, Mia is definitely keeping her eye on you both xx

I am enjoying our holiday with our friends, lots of open air, beautiful countryside and of course, wonderful food. It is very peaceful here. However, there are moments, like now, when I just miss Mia so badly.

I rarely dream of Mia, as you know, but the first night we travelled her, she entered my dreams, at first showing me how she was walking by herself, proud and wobbly. She called me Mummy. I so wanted to hear that word from her, it was magical. And then later on, I can recall being amazed as she ran down a corridor with some friends, legs flashing, with a big grin. She's come on holiday with us too.

Driving here, down a valley bursting with spring colour, the sunlight filtering through the trees, I said to my DH "Mia will never get to see this beautiful sight. It is so wrong. I wish she could" I didn't find out until later that DH's eyes filled with tears behind his sunglasses as he said "I miss her so much too.'

Seeing our friends' children, one of whom is the little boy who thinks Mia is a star, explore so happily is wonderful, but so difficult too. Mia would have had a lovely time, following the big kids, playing with her little friend, pulling at flowers and climbing the stairs. I am slowly realising again that the Mia in my head won't be growing up with them, won't be learning new things, won't be having holiday adventures with us. So much she is missing out on. So much we are missing out on with her.

And yes, while I have all kinds of reasons to be happy, it is this realisation which cuts so deep. I just want her here with us, physically, not just sitting nestled in my heart and head. I want her to have the experiences of life she deserves. Deserved.

Happy Easter, darling Mia. You would allowed to eat an Easter egg this year. Maybe even a couple. Especially if you had searched outside for them, with your daddy helping you. I am sure you would love the excitement of Easter egg hunts.

We had such a happy time with your cousins last year, didn't we? They gave you a beautiful yellow wooden duck and played with you for hours. They think you are so special. You did give the girls a nasty surprise when you did a big poo in the bath with them though - I have never seen girls move so quickly!! And we had so much fun on the trampoline together, bouncing in a big happy family bundle.

We miss your sweet presence, darling, and should be rejoicing in your every new discovery, every milestone of growing up.

Such wonderful memories of last Easter, coupled with the sadness that she isn't here to play with her cousins this year.
Wishing you both a peaceful day today x

Easter Monday 2011 - a trip to a local swimming hole. Not quite warm enough for Mia (or me!!) to swim, but she happily played in the riverbank sand, enjoying the sensations of the sand trickling through her fingers, wearing a ridiculously enormous sunhat with elephants on it, and a lavender tutu skirt her cousins had chosen for her to wear. Big grins for daddy who busily took photos.

Today is an ok day. But much colder, in so many ways. I loved being woken by Mia, starting and finishing my day by looking down at her with love.

It makes total sense to feel the world is a colder place. It is Mia you want, and no one can ever replace her. I hope you begin to feel the warmth again soon though.

Sending you the warmest of wishes at the end of this Easter weekend.
I hope you feel some of the blessing of Easter time in your lives.

Easter is a time of such promise and hope.
New life is promised to us all and new life is all around to be seen.
Mia has been given the everlasting peaceful life that is promised to us all and we are reminded of this life at Easter time.

But Easter is also a time of sorrow as Mary had to face the same terrrible loss that you have had and I pray she will send her blessings to you as she understands the deep sorrrow it is to be a mother who has lost their precious child.

I hope you are enjoying you break and when faced with the joyous but painful memories of Mia last Easter gain comfort from knowing that she is deep within you, in your heart, your mind and soul and her beauty and spirit is all around you.

I continue to think of all of you often.

jmf and callme thank you for those words of hope. Easter is a time of hope and rebirth, and renewed growth as spring returns. But like the changeable April weather, there are sudden showers of sadness in my heart too.

It is just that recurring sense of disbelief and horror which has hit me again. Mia is gone. My beautiful little girl died, and isn't here to charm us with her wide smile and her infinite array of noises. Forever. Never to grow up. And there is nothing I can do about it except continue to love her. Today, at a hardware store, I saw a little fridge magnet which made me so sad I will never forget the first time you called me mummy. Bang, it hit me in the stomach, because that can only ever happen in my dreams. For a moment, I could hardly could breathe for the pain. But being Mia's mummy is such a part of who I am, even if it was only for a short time. I know that she knows that.

We received an unexpected ray of sunshine yesterday, with an email from a woman who lives in the area, who we have never met, but who daughter went to Mia's nursery, and through that, is aware of our search for land for Mia's Wood. She pointed us in the direction of various plots, and my DH wrote to them, and had received replies from the agents before the afternoon was out, including a kind offer of help from the MD of the company, who had also lost a little daughter.

It is terrible how many people I seem to know now in situations like ours. Hidden away in their suffering. And yet it is wonderful how much love and kindness is sent our way.

How are you feeling miasmummy? I hope you are able to feel physically rested even if not emotionally right now. Take care of yourself- eat well and try to relax (sorry I sound like my mother!)

That's great news about possibilities with the land too. Things seem to be coming together.

You are so right about all those people out there- like a hidden army of people, all soldiering on in life despite the blows they've been dealt and the wounds they're carrying. It's not something you ever expected to be part of, but I am glad that you are feeling the support from others.

We are back from France, a fairly uneventful journey, apart from a clutch malfunction on the M25. We stayed calm, made it safely to the hard shoulder, and waited at the side of the road for our breakdown service. Nothing seemed to be too bad, it was all under control until I started running through the possibilities of what could have happened - wiped out by a lorry as we moved across lanes, rear-ended if we had been stalled in a lane - and how life could have suddenly changed...

I know that too well. All I could think of was the night we took Mia to the hospital, a little concerned about one slightly off-colour little girl, but we trusted in the system and did the right things, just we did today - but the outcome was so different. We didn't bring Mia back home with us. How we left her there, how we walked away, I do not know. I am having visions of her lying there, still. The very worst sight a parent can ever, ever see.

I juxtapose those with so many videos of her bouncing, screeching, looking inquisitively at things, enjoying every moment of her life. It doesn't make sense to me. It will never make sense.

That is how I want to remember my girl, happy and beautiful. Loving her so very much. Love you, Mia, sweet toddler girl. xx

Glad to hear that you got home safely from France and I hope the break gave you and your DH time to relax and recharge.

That sounds really positive news about the land for Mia's wood. Mia just has a way of touching people so deeply that they want to help you and many like me just wish they could do more.

Your recollections of the night that Mia died are so heartbreaking. It happened so fast and I was wondering reading between the lines was the hospital and the care she received negligent. Of course addressing that can't change the outcome but Mia is owed a proper investigation and redress. I know you have medical family and friends so I hope that can guide and help you both with that.

When you left the hospital that day Mia had already soared straight to heaven so you weren't leaving her behind she had flown off ahead- where she's happily comforted by your love, sending you signs of her presence and being a wonderful little toddler.

It neither makes sense or is fair but do not torture yourself by trying to make sense of the incomprehensible.

Remember, this is only our first life - we have an eternity ahead of us in which we will be with our loved ones and progress with them to an amazing destiny.

We did have a good break, a time suspended from reality. However, unlike our Christmas escape, when I knew I was coming back home to a life without Mia, this time it's almost like I somehow expected everything to be fine, and back to 'normal' again, and we would pick up our life as Mia's parents again, revelling in her daily adventures. Why, I don't know. So it hurts all over again.

Yet at the same time, I mourn the fact that as time passes, I can't properly imagine her doing the things a 19-month-old toddler would be doing. I see her friends, and watch how they develop, but as the months go by, my understanding of what Mia herself might be doing is diminishing, and how her character would be changing... how many words might she be saying? what would she be doing at nursery? what would be her favourite toys? would she finally be sleeping through the night? would she run up to her daddy, throwing her hand up for a cuddle, squealing with delight as he returns from work? would her hair be long enough for a first haircut, or would it continue in its gloriously abundant red curls?

So many questions that I can't answer. So many I shouldn't have to ask.

And yes jmf - we do have a lot of questions for the hospital, and are doing our best to ensure that they are answered in full.