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.

Dropping in to say that although I'm hardly ever on MN I think about you, Mia, and your family often xxxx

On holiday this week, in a beautiful sunny place, which evokes memories of a similar trip elsewhere with a little red-head in tow, who attracted much attention with her smiles and unusual colouring. Finn also causes comments because of his big grin, but it's a little weird that the first thing to check out on arrival isn't the beach, but rather the hospital and emergency services, just in case.

Just wanted to say I think of you and your family often, even if I'm not around to post.
I hope you are seeing some Mia kisses in the sky, and feeling her close to you all

Oh gosh I cried my eyes out reading the story.. :(
I am sending all my thoughts and prayers and love to you Mia's mummy and all your family :(

We went out for a meal the other evening, and the kind waiter decided to give Finn a drinking straw, even though he is still too small to use one. However, it was a wonderful toy for him to vigorously chew, suck and wave around. MrMia and I looked at each other, as we watched him, with the same vision in mind.

Mia was also given a plastic drinking straw on our summer holiday. She loved it so much, battered and wrinkled as it was, that we had to bring it home with us. She would wave it around joyously, listening for its little tap against her toys, a slender pointer of fun. We called it her magic wand, as it seemed to transform the world into such a happy place for her.

We love the similarities we are discovering in our children, unprompted and spontaneous. But they hurt too.

What comes across in your writing (as well as your tremendous love for your children) is your capacity to find the magic in the simplest little things in life. Mia and Finn are blessed in having parents who have this gift. So many special moments.

Thinking of you all

Tomorrow we are hosting a picnic in our garden for our local bereaved parents' group. To me, the garden is very much part of my memory bank of Mia. I gardened while pregnant with her, then weeded the following summer with her sitting on my knees, and then last year, I dug up and replanted a whole bed, crying. And of course, we have her little red oak growing strongly at the bottom of the garden. So in a weird way, it will be nice to share it all with a special group of people who understand just how we feel.

Hope your picnic went well.... Love the image of Mia's oak growing in your garden. The memories you describe always bring Mia's smiley face in to my mind ... Stay strong brave lady xxxx

The picnic did go well, aside from a little rain at the end of the afternoon.

Today I did a walk through a park that I haven't done in two years. Yet so many echoes of Mia. Same pram. Same sunshine. An inquisitive, alert little baby whom I adore. But I should have my nearly-3-year-old girl beside us, wearing a big hat to protect her fair skin, pointing at things, running around, whinging because she doesn't want to walk that distance...

I haven't cried for Mia for quite some time now. It is just built into me. Loss and pain is part of who I am. I was listening to the radio yesterday about a man who had learnt to live with serious injuries, and his words resonated. This loss is a fact of my life. I can't deny it. I can remember what was, as it affects what 'is' now.

I do miss her so. Finn's development and abilities are starting to approach the levels Mia had when she died, despite him still being quite a few months younger. He can climb the stairs, he is starting to walk, he almost has the same number of teeth as she did, he is almost the same weight.

I am not sure how I will feel once he surpasses his big sister. Another milestone.

Thinking of you and lovely Mia and Finn xxx

Haven't posted here for a while but want to let you know that I still keep you all and your beautiful girl in my thoughts.

A knife of sadness, watching a friend grieve for her little girl. She should be two today.

I dreamed about Mia the other night, the first time in ages. The doctors were telling me that her breathing wasn't right, and that they had noticed it previously, but hadn't done anything. I kept asking they why.

Why? Why her? Why did she die? Why? Why? Why? The unanswerable questions which are part of me forever.

I love you so, little red-headed girl.

I'm so sorry that Mia isn't here with you, and whilst you celebrate Finn's development and achievements it hurts too. It must be so hard to live with those unanswerable questions that come to you in your dreams. Thinking of you x

sending you hugs xxxx

Thank you everyone for your kind words, and still being here with me to listen about Mia.

We are slowly creating a Mia garden. Inadvertently rather than planned, but lovely just the same. Something to nurture and remind us of her beauty.

Our Mia irises are growing well, but no spikes of purple colour are yet visible.

I also have sweet peas growing, as I always called Mia "my sweet pea". Again, they are purples and whites, and I love having a bunch next to Mia's photo on the bedside table.

The first blooms of our Mamma Mia rose are out. They aren't perfect, but are a wonderful orange-red, with a light scent. They are in a pot by the back door, and make me smile. I hope there will be some of the remaining buds will flower next week when miasgrandad comes to stay.

And a friend has told me about a Mamma Mia gladioli which is available. Fittingly, it is also a glorious red-orange.

I love that the Mia flowers are all oranges and purples, her colours.

Always here, always listening, even if sometimes we can't find any words to say. Mia's garden sounds a beautiful, natural reflection of your beautiful girl.

xxx

Your garden sounds beautiful, Mias. I hope it gives you unadulterated pleasure and brings back wonderful memories of your darling girl. Xx

Thinking of you. I hope miasgrandad has a nice visit with you. The garden sounds beautiful. Just like Mia x

Hi Miasmummy,
I haven't posted here before but I often come to hear about your special little girl Mia, and now about your very own Finn (I too have a Finn!).

As has been said before, you write so beautifully I feel I know Mia and her funny little ways. You were blessed to have found and had each other, but I can only imagine what a tragic and horrific experience you and your family are going through. :-(

Your garden sounds lovely. I hope Miasgrandad gets to enjoy it too.

Stay strong. There are many still listening, and Mia is often in my thoughts.

Xxx

I am listening. I have lurked on your thread for a long time and love hearing about your gorgeous little red head, and now little Finn. Your Mia garden sounds beautiful. X x x

It's nice to know that so many people love hearing about Mia. It means a lot to me, despite having no new experiences of hers to share. It helps.

Back from a weekend with friends. Sunshine, laughter and love as we celebrated a wedding. Finn was adored and admired.

It was hard not to recall another gathering of these friends, as they adored and admired Mia then, nearly two years ago, at a much sadder occasion as we said goodbye to one of the group. Mia crawled up the stairs, climbed under chairs and investigated handbags, making people smile despite their grief. For some, it was the first and last time they met her.

On the way back today, as we sat at a picnic table, enjoying playing with Finn as he tumbled around in the grass, a nearby man offered done advice. "Don't waste a single second, they are only small for such a short time." He shared that he had four children, and was working on the bank holiday, to support them all, while worrying about his youngest daughter, as she wanted to move out with her boyfriend who had been stealing from the family.

What struck me was how unconditional his love was. He didn't know about Mia, but he was so right in his sentiments. You have to appreciate every moment.

So while the thoughts of Mia on that the sad day hurt, I am so glad we have those memories. A lady at the wedding asked how many children I had, and I said I have two, but that Mia died. "She gave us so much joy, we loved every second with her", were my words.