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.

Little Mia moments...

...Going down some 'wishing steps' and resolutely rejecting the notion that wishes can come true simply because we want to believe they can. If that were the case, Mia would be playing with us now.

...Sitting in a cafe, suddenly hit with a wave of sadness, missing my little girl. MrMia confessed to exactly the same sentiment in the same place, when I told him later on.

..Meeting another very special MN-er yesterday, who has also lost her little girl. Instant friendship.

...Today, taking Finn to a settling-in session at the nursery where Mia went for two brief weeks. Fortunately, the carers know about her and are very understanding.

My heartbreaks for you.... May you find peace and strength xxxxx

I know that I cannot even begin to imagine the road you walk, Mia's. I find myself shaking my head in disbelief as I read, sometimes. Repeating all of Mia's milestones with Finn - it must be SO hard. And yet you describe all of these moments with such clarity, dignity and grace.
I hope you have that Finn had a fabulous day at Nursery, and that you have had a gentle week without too much poignant sadness (can that ever be?). Wishing you a lovely weekend. Xx

I feel like history is repeating itself, and it scares me. My parents have just left, and we are off to a friend's funeral tomorrow. The same cycle happened a few weeks before Mia died. Please let Finn be safe.

Lovely Mias, he will be.

I guess that there is no security for you any more - you have already been a hostage to fortune and to the worst that could happen, and you will always worry for Finn, more than those of us lucky enough not to be walking your path. I say luck, because that's all it seems to be in this arbitrary world of chance and circumstance.
But the chance of anything happening to Finn - while still there - is terribly slight. i am sure you are dreading the next few weeks because of a random repetition of events, and you will be even more vigilant than usual, which must be terribly stressful and tiring and hard.
Sending you love and light, and the hope that these meagre words offer a crumb of something to cling to.
xx

Trulymadlydeeply puts it beautifully

Your fears are totally understandable... I think all of us when we become parents can never feel totally 'safe' any more, and Any parent who is touched by tragedy will be particularly vulnerable to such fears.

Stay strong. The past is not the present. You are continuing your journey forward, not retreading the same path, even though you must feel so many echoes of Mia around you. So many of us are thinking of you, especially with October arriving; you're not walking this path alone

The visit is over. Just before we left Australia, almost every plant of Mia's Iris flowered - surely a good omen. We had seen Finn less than two months previously, but the likeness to Mia is still incredible.
He is doing things earlier than Mia, and at times, to see him doing the same things as I saw Mia do, - swimming, starting at Day Care, was confronting and paradoxically, re-assuring at the same time.
Some things broke through. GrandMaofMiaAlexandra and I both cried when we saw Mia's memorial stone in the park. Some memories cannot be suppressed, some things cannot be explained.

It was a wonderful time with Miasgraandad and my DM. Watching their joy with Finn was lovely, whether it was seeing their smiles as they held him, laughing as they bonded with him with silly gestures, or their pride as they taught him a new little skill.

janey and truly thank you for both acknowledging my fears and reassuring me. You are right in what you say. But as the leaves turn and it becomes that beautiful and terrible time of year, the coincidences leap out at me.

Two years ago almost to the day, my DM saw Mia for the last time. An Indian summer day, we were outside and Mia was proudly walking barefoot behind her block trolley, in a floppy hat and sundress, squeaking and squealing with excitement at being upright as we encouraged her. We captured these moments on video, and it is one of the most precious Mia moments we have. Pure unadulterated joy. Watching her take those steps from babyhood to toddler...

And here we are, two years later, and Finn is also walking with that same block trolley. The weather is colder, and we are indoors, but the same squeals of joy and pride in a new accomplishment take my breath away. Finn following in his sister's footsteps.

The irrational fear climbs back into my head again, and I try to banish it.

Beautiful glimpses into your life with your precious girl and boy. A reminder to us all to savour every moment.

Two touching moments today. People can be amazing sometimes.

I talked about our Mia's Wood Ball today with some local parents, and then I was surprised when one of the teachers then announced that she was giving Mia's Wood a sizeable donation on behalf of a local women's group, who had heard about Mia's Wood, but until today, she hadn't realised that I was Mia's mother. Tears all around at that point...

And then tonight, we have received an email from a local father whose daughter died last year, and while he can't come along to the ball, he wants to donate goods for the charity auction in memory of his girl.

Hidden pain lurks everywhere, doesn't it?

You are truly an inspiration, Mias.

How are you feeling at the moment? I hope you are managing to banish - or at least box up - your fears. How lovely that people are so keen to help in Mia's memory - or that they understand where you are because they have been there themselves.
Goodness me, Finn will have parents to be proud of, when he is old enough to understand ...
Love to you all. Xxx

truly it's been a hard day today. I have just started a part-time role, and so Finn went off to nursery this morning. They called me when I was in a meeting, as he had a temperature, so MrMia ended up picking him up and spending the day at home. Of course, I felt sick when I picked up the calls. Throughout the day, MrMia sent me photos and reassured me that Finn was cheerful and happy, even though he wasn't eating, and that if anything changed, he would take him to the GP.

Yet I really felt quite frantic. Finn has been very tired over the past couple of days, but otherwise busy as usual. We had put it down to lots of walking and activity with other children. Should I have noticed and acted differently?

My mind is crowded with many memories of Mia being a little unwell, not going to nursery because of suspected chickenpox, just being a little off-colour the week before she died. There was nothing ostensibly wrong with her - but we took her to the hospital and she didn't come home again.

So I am torn. What if it is something more? I know it is probably teething. And it is easy enough to take him to the GP tomorrow, which I will do. But the illogical part of me says that if I keep him away, then nothing can happen to him...

Take him, get him checked thoroughly and then take him back as often as you need too. |Noone will mind you need to be sure. Roll on November

Darling, lovely Mia's. Take him. You don't deserve to live on your nerves. Especially at this time of year. Any Doctor would understand. Take him and keep taking him until you are satisfied, as Meelies says. You just need to get through these next few days in as peaceful and as reassured a manner as possible.
Let us know how he is, and how you are, when you can. Sending love. Xxx

Meelie and truly I did take Finn to the GP yesterday. It was the right thing to do, despite my qualms. He woke much more like himself, without a temperature, and ate quite well too. He still falls asleep a lot more than normal, but the doctor thoroughly checked him over (including the heart) and couldn't find anything, but the GP has booked us in again for Friday in case anything changed, so that was nice. Finn has been a little clingy, but generally happy, so I am hoping it was just a little virus which he is almost over now.

Feeling calmer. But know that I will have to face similar situations in the future, because children do become sick. They just usually don't die like Mia did.

Thinking of you and Mia on baby loss awareness day. Xx

jmf294: you are lovely. So are you , Mias. Thinking of you all with great feeling, as always. Xxx

Thank you both. I did light candles for Mia and all the other 'lost' children last night. I realise that because my family and friends allow us to openly speak of Mia, and rejoice in her life, that we keep her real in our hearts. I cannot think of any worse torture for a parent than to have their child unacknowledged, invisible.

The season of sadness is here. Tears, which had disappeared for a while, are quietly rising again... A poem of loss shared by another bereaved parent...a necklace of stars from MrMia for the three stars in his life... The death of a lovely man who showed me nothing but kindness... A memorial service far away for my grandmother who died four days before Mia...The beauty of the glowing autumn leaves today...and the saddest is still yet to come.

I just must remember that, in the end, it is just another day Mia is not with us. It doesn't change anything.

You write so beautifully, Mia's. Does it help to know that you are not alone, that others share your sorrow or have sorrow of their own? I can't imagine what can help, really, but I am thinking of you in your season of sadness.
I used to go to Westonbirt Arboretum a good deal. It reminds me of a mum I knew when my DS (15) was born, whose son died quite unexpectedly. He has a tree there. It is a beautiful spot and the colours at this time of year are truly Mia's colours.
Sending you love and light as always. X xx

Thoughts with you all this week.
Through these last two years you have touched so many people with your bravery, love, dignity and strength.
Thinking of your beautiful girl, may you feel close to her and continue to celebrate and draw strength from the love you share. Xx

I love you, darling girl. I love you, little boy. One in my arms, the other in my heart.

My beautiful daughter -

I want to let you know how very loved you are. Today is such a hard day for your daddy. He misses you everyday, but today brings those emotions to the fore.

His love for you is endless. I watch him hold your little girl cousin with such tenderness, and see him play with your friends, happily indulging them with treats, and allowing himself to be persuaded to join in their imagination games. He loves them for themselves, but it is all done for you.

Your little brother Finn makes us smile, helping our hearts to expand once more. As a big sister, he would probably irritate and amuse you in equal measure. Your daddy often says how much he would love the wonderful complications of a world where you and Finn competed for our attention, yet made us laugh with your adoration of each other, as only siblings can. Finn is asleep next to me right now. We probably indulge him a little too much, but it is done out of love. Like you, he is unbelievably precious, and brings us much joy.

You have brought us into contact with so many wonderful, compassionate people, and their kindness and friendship is so generous. Many of them too, walk around with hidden burdens of pain and loss, but they reach out, nonetheless, to help us.

We are hoping our Mia's Wood Ball next month will be a big success, and have been flattered by the generosity of auction prizes donated, and the lengths some people are going to come along. I will be wearing my emerald wedding dress, which I wore when I was five months' pregnant with you - it seemed the right way to bring you along to your very first ball.

Little girl, you colour every day of our lives. Colours of love, of sadness, of the fragility of life. You bring wonder and joy to us into everyday moments, making them special.

We love you so very, very much, darling girl.

Mummy xx

Thinking of you and holding you hard, Mia's. Xxx