A love story : Living without my beautiful red-headed Mia

[MiaAlexandrasmummy]

This love story began before Mia was born, intensified when she entered our lives, and it will continue to burn strongly forever. Mia is my red-headed flame, my sweet pea, my noisy sprite. Mia is joy, she is love, she is every good thing you can imagine. And I am so incredibly proud to be her mummy.

Yet she is gone. Mia died totally unexpectedly last October at the age of 13 months. Impossible, but true.

We miss Mia?s cuddles, her weight and her little legs curled around us, her face against our cheeks and her warm arms around our necks, the soothing pats on the back that she would give us as we in turn patted her. She was intimate, coming to us, arms raised, for a reassuring cuddle, but then with a smile, content she would wiggle free, independent and inquisitive about everything around her, exploring her world, looking in cupboards, peeking between the banisters as she climbed the stairs and just revelling in her existence.

I have tried to estimate how many times a day we kissed Mia. Picking her up, putting her down, dressing her, feeding her, washing her hands, just because? it must have been hundreds. Equally, we always made a point to tell Mia every day just how much we loved her. We know she listened.

I cannot begin to adequately describe the love that we have for our little girl. I can only ask you to imagine the most perfect feeling of love and warmth that you can, to double its intensity, and extend it to infinity and you are still not even close to the amount of love that we shared with Mia every second of the her 13 months.

This is her story, and mine, and my reality.

Sending my thoughts too, especially now we're in October x

Thank you for remembering Ilove, eightytwenty, and janey. My black month. Very grateful that DH and I had last week together at home, doing a DIY stay cation, where the impending dates could be suspended for a while, as we immersed ourselves in painting and sorting and planning.

October 1st last year I remember so well. It was a very hot day, and we were all back in summer clothes. Mia was wearing a little blue sundress, and spent the day proudly marching up and down outside with her trolley, squealing with delight, grinning madly.

It was the last time my mother ever saw her. Thank god for videos and photos.

Love to you, Mia's mummy. What a gorgeous picture I have in my mind's eye of Mia with her trolley.

I have often looked at your photos of Mia and the one taken on the 1st October is truly beautiful. Her expression is so playful and yet so wise. I'm sure your mother will cherish the memory of that day forever. Thinking of you all x

Over the past couple of days, we have seen how, yet again, love and death are so very intertwined. It's not just us. I am very conscious how other people's worlds can fall apart too, and we are not the only ones dealing with fear and loss and pain... Death, major life-changing operations, and debilitating illness are touching many of our friends' lives, directly or indirectly. It affects us all, and our approach to the world.

Mia is only one sadness. She is our sadness. There are so many more. We aren't special, or singled out in that way.

I never get to be on here enough, but you and Mia are always in my thoughts...Your pain is real to you and your family , you are such a strong and determined person[ even though you dont think it.] Mia is with you always and she will always be part of your lives. xxxxxxxx

Mia's mummy-
Just wanted to add my voice to the others to let you know you in in my thoughts and prayers as you face this very hard month.
I really hope that through the darkness you will still find light and love, feel Mia's love around you and see her life and love in all that is beautiful around you.

I can't begin to imagine how hard the inquest will be. But please know that you have the thoughts, prayers and wishes of so many willing you to find the strength you need to face what you need to do.
I will also pray that the coroner's mind will be guided and the right verdict is reached for Mia.
I also feel so desperately sorry for your Dad- that his fellow professionals let own his daring granddaughter in the most dreadful way. Very tough.

Not much more I can say except to wish you all continued light and love and I know Mia well be so very proud of her very brave Mum xx

There is indeed light and love around me - as I was driving home today, amidst sunshine and raindrops, I was given the privilege to see not one, but two huge rainbow arcs against a sky of black clouds.

But feeling low now. In going through a batch of old receipts for my VAT return, I have just found some from a year ago, five days before Mia died, when she and I went out on a shopping expedition together to buy birthday presents for DH. She gave him socks and a laptop cover, both brightly coloured, like all her own things. I also found the receipt for the little aqua cardigan I bought for her that day. After I chose it, Mia decided she needed to hold onto it as I wheeled her around, waving the item in the air, catching on the other clothes as we went through the children's section, thinking this was a wonderful new game.

Mia never wore that cardigan.

All her things are still upstairs. I can't bear to put them away, but I know it is fast approaching a time when I will have to move them elsewhere. Somewhere close by, where I can look at the sweet little dresses, the green corduroy jeans, the stripy tops, and remember how I loved dressing my girl.

Have never commented or even spoken to you but I have followed this thread since it started. I have no idea what to say as my daughter was born around the same time as Mia. I just wanted you to know that I was thinking about you and your family this month.

Thinking of you still, and know that your need for justice for Mia will carry you forward. I know this will be a grim time for you and for Mr Mias, with so much going on, but hope that you will both be shored up by the virtual hands outstretched to keep you standing.

Sending you lots of love.

Xx

There has been hundreds of hours of preparation by MrMia and MiasGrandad for her inquest. They have both worked so very hard, covering every angle possible, thinking about every possibility. Yet the outcome isn't certain at all. And even we receive the outcome we want, it will be difficult to possess that knowledge. I have no idea if it will provide any sort of closure. I am not really expecting that.

Now we are into the logistics of a four-day inquest. Sorting out food, organising ourselves with tea and coffee and a room to retreat into, a friend generously offering to take off four days from work to be our scribe... necessary mundanities to make things go as smoothly as possible.

The trees here are now turning into their Mia-colours of reds, brilliant oranges and vibrant golds.

How can it be a year since I held my beautiful little girl? How can the years stretch before me, knowing I will never hold her again, or see her smile? It is so impossible, still.

I'm glad you have the support of your wonderful family and friends to help you through this. Fwiw my feeling is that the process is as important as the outcome. Mias daddy and grandad have invested so much time and care and love covering every detail, and that's a testament to their love. Of course you will be hoping for the outcome which you believe is the right one, but whatever the outcome, I hope the process itself brings some kind of resolution and peace.

As for closure, I don't know, I'm not sure that there can ever be fundamental acceptance and closure with the death of ones child. But I do believe its possible to reach a place of inner calm.

So many of us are thinking of you especially now with mias inquest and the anniversary approaching. We have a glorious riot of red and orange in the trees at the end of our garden and whenever I'm out there I think 'Mia'

Yesterday we went out alongside other bereaved parents to create a snowdrop walk to honour our children. It was a cold but bright day, and the walk is being planted inside a beautiful sculpture garden. Next year we will do the same, and the snowdrops will spread naturally as they mature.

Our loyal friends and their children came along too, and it was lovely to watch the little girls concentrate on placing one single bulb into each hole, finding the 'lid' to place back on top, and then determinedly stamp it all down.

We also were able to bring home a little snowdrop bulb in a pot, and the gardener has told us that we can plant them in our gardens, where they will replicate naturally over time.

I love the thought of beautiful promises of Mia love appearing in the spring next year, and then each year following, expanding across our garden. Growing, a wonderful reminder of our beautiful girl.

I often read your thread and think about you and Mia. I live opposite an old church yard, there are 3 children buried in the same plot who died within a week of each other in the late 1800s. Each year that section of the cemetery is covered in the most beautiful display of snowdrops and bluebells, when I walk past it i always think of them and the flowers somehow seem so poignant. Mia's wood sounds like such a wonderful tribute to your precious daughter.

Oh. What a heartbreaking moment. A friend came over this morning with her daughter, who is the same age as Mia, and she loves coming to "Mia's house." She was eager to go upstairs to the toys, and after a cup of tea, we both went up there with her. The little girl looked around questioningly, and said "Mia? Mia?" hopefully. "She's not here, darling", I had to say...

Another friend sent me a text this afternoon, saying this-

A year ago today we were celebrating all the babies' first birthdays, and looking forward to my DC2's arrival in two days' time. Everything seemed so good. Some ways it feels such a short time ago, in others, forever. We miss Mia.

Her words brought tears for both MrMia and I. Such truth.

Less than a week now. My parents' arrival this morning brings it all so much closer to reality.

Mia's light and love certainly shine so brightly through so many people.
Glad to hear your parents arrived safely- I hope you all find strength and comfort in one another in the coming days.

Thinking of you, mr Mia and your lovely Mia. Wishing you strength.

Thinking of you and all your family over the next couple of weeks in particular. Look after yourselves.
x Light and love x

Thinking of you x

The clearing of the Mia's Wood site has begun, and already the progress has transformed the site. However, huge amounts of debris has emerged from under the nettles and brambles - two car bodies, old farm machinery, an old loo and bath, quantities of corrugated roofing, and enough rotten wood for a serious bonfire!

Mia's tree is looking glorious, with deep red leaves now.

A lovely friend, a teacher, whose daughter is the same age as Mia, is running a competition at his school to invite his classes to come up with creative ideas for Mia's Wood. He suggested the idea to us, and has put together an inspirational presentation as well as offering prizes, and asked MrMia and I to be judges.

Again, just another demonstration of love for Mia. Amazing. People are so kind.

I love how so many children remember and miss Mia- and how numerous school children will be playing in active role in thinking up a name for her wood.
Wishing you peace this week.

One of my favourite films is 'Pay it forward'. The idea that kindness, love and compassionate acts can affect the lives of people you may never meet.
Mia and your love for her has touched the lives of so many people and Mia's wood will be the perfect place to honour that x