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.

As always your writings are full of love for your gorgeous girl , stay strong, all your thoughts and feelings that you have are normal. Carry on writing, you are stronger than you think. Though Iam not around as much Mia and your family are always in my thoughts. xxxx

Mia was developing such a lovely sense of humour. I have a vivid memory of her, picking up one of her plastic 'pots of happiness' which still had some sort of mashed vegetable inside, and putting it over her face, hooting into it with such glee, and then peeping over the top, as if to say "Aren't I funny?", and then laughing at herself. Of course, we had to laugh too, which made her eyes sparkle.

Oh darling. I miss you so.

Oh Mia's mummy- if Mia could choose she'd be right there with you too.
I truly believe that in Mia's heaven you are all there with her right now.

You lo

Was trying to finish by saying:

You look after yourself as you do your Olympic work.
Thoughts and love to you

Watching the opening ceremony and thinking of you and Mia. YOUR bright spark will be watching over you with love x

Thinking of you, MAM. Three weeks tomorrow, Aillidh died.

So bereft. I sleep in her bed next to her sister every night.

Thought of you and said a prayer for your beautiful girl as the flame was lit tonight.

Thank you jmf and expat. It was hard seeing all those photos of loved ones who had died, but yes, my little flame was in my eyes and heart with that beautiful cauldron.

And tamdin, sorry!

Expat. I have not seen an earlier entry. Did I miss one?
Mia'sMummy and her husband are still missing Mia terribly, as are we. We wish you strength and love for a long time into the future.
We have been surprised how many people have had a similar experience, but can still support others, to the benefit of both.

I've read your thread over the past couple of days & although don't feel I can say it eloquently enough, I just wanted to express my deep sorrow for Mia's passing.

Reading it has really brought her to life - she sounds amazing & beautiful. All the very best with your pregnancy. You & your DH & family are in my thoughts. Wishing you peace.

I just wonder. I have seen so many children of Mia's age today at the Olympic rowing. I can imagine Mia walking across next to me, holding my hand tightly, looking and pointing at the world around her... walking between DH and I, a thread of happiness, as we swing her up in the air and she chants "more, more!" It hurts, knowing she is missing out on those normal childhood experiences.

However, I do like to think that we are doing this with Mia, in her little bit of heaven, just like you say, jmf.

A lovely day yesterday, with unexpected difficult moments as we celebrated the marriage of friends, the parents of a little friend of Mia. The whole day was filled with sincere, heartfelt love and happiness, but I still had a few tears - during a hymn asking not to need to be consoled, at the toast for absent loved ones, and simply watching Mia's three little friends.

They had a wonderful day : busily slotting stones into a drain grill during the photo session; running, running, running non-stop as only toddlers can ; stopping for a brief second to be entranced by the beautiful bride; their enjoyment in learning to dance ; and finally, sleepily cuddling into their daddy's shoulders...

Hardest of all was watching DH with the children. He ran after them, he danced with them, he made them giggle. He loved every second, yet admitted that the fun he had was nothing in comparison to the time he shared with Mia. It broke my heart just a little more, all over again.

The last couple of days, being surrounded by lots of people, has made me realise that I am still shutting myself away somewhat from real life. I have had to explain to various people about Mia, and see so many children just - well - being children.

Mia, my beautiful girl. I see you running around with your friends, curls flying, a wide smile and noisy giggles as we chase you. Why, oh why?

What a bittersweet day for you yesterday.
Of course it's only natural to be shutting yourself away from life, your loss so fresh, so great that you are naturally doing what you need to do to protect yourself.

I had the most lovely dream about you the other night and I thought I would share it with you.
We met in a friends house and your unborn baby was with you.
Your new baby was now a beautiful little toddler running around giggling and laughing with strawberry blond hair.
You were talking about Mia and how she is so loved and missed.
I remember watching you and being so happy to see you filled with love and happiness as you played with your little child.

A glimpse into the future- I believe so and say a special prayer for you all xx

What a lovely dream, jmf, thank you for sharing it. Such a wonderful vision for the future. My own are much more disturbed and unsettled at the moment, so I will happily share yours.

After writing that I rarely dream about Mia, I woke this morning with images of her in my mind. Intensely vivid. We were all in a waiting room, and she was standing on a chair, turning around to look at me, with such a beautiful smile on her face. The sunlight was on her, and her glorious curls glowed. She glowed. I knew that we had been given some extra time with her, but that these moments were finite, yet I was filled with such joy and love seeing my beautiful girl once more that I could only feel utter happiness.

Maybe I glimpsed heaven...

Yet I do know she is with us. We still receive little signs from her. As we drove to the wedding on Monday, the song on the radio was "You are amazing", a version of which we chose for the celebration of her life. And at the wedding itself, it was the last song we heard as we left the venue.

Yes, Mia stays close to her mummy and daddy. She knows we need her. And she has an important job, to look out for her little sibling too, being a wonderful big sister, showing us her love.

Sweet girl. Noisy girl. Cheeky girl. 400 hundred days of magic, and millions of amazing moments.

I haven't posted for a while, Miasmummy, but I still think of you often x

Same here, Miasmummy, you are regularly in my thoughts. Sending love to your bump x

Mia, your daddy has been awake for the last two hours, thinking about you and how the hospital is refusing to accept any changes or amendments to their investigation reports, even though we have clearly pointed out where there are inaccuracies. And these reports now also become 'fact' for the expert witnesses. The system is plain wrong. They are supposed to be open to consultation and strive for better performance and improvements. Ha. He is angry, despairing and exhausted - but keeps on fighting for you, darling girl. I just hope the coroner can see through all this bureaucratic treacle and ascertain the truth for you.

He is so sad. He misses you so, Little Squeak. Every second of every day. Xx

I'm so sorry that you are having to fight so hard with the hospital.
It could be that only taking things to court to establish liability and blame will move things forward and get the hospital to respond appropriately.
Then your chosen experts could have their reports presented which sounds like they will be at odds with the hospital.
The coroner will be establishing facts to causation and not looking at liability and this could be why the hospital is acting as they are.

I'm just so sorry- its so desperately unfair and not what any Daddy should have to do for their darling daughter.
Thoughts and prayers.
Love and light xx

Mia, as I spend this time volunteering at the Olympics, no-one knows who I am, nor do they know you. They definitely don't know how beautiful you are, and how you have changed our works forever. Everyone is focussed on something bigger than themselves. Yet I will wave my Mia flag of love, with greater fervour than any nationalistic pride. You are the best, always the best. My golden girl, the champion of my heart.

Saturday held some challenges, simply because they were unexpected. Surely I have been through the hardest moments already?

At the Olympic beach volleyball, seated in front of us, was a couple with a brand new baby girl. We chatted, but when they said their baby was half-British, just like Mia and my bump, I couldn't reply - I didn't feel I could go into an explanation... there were no words adequate.

Then in the afternoon, DH and I enjoyed a London lifestyle once more, visiting the Tate Modern and Borough Market. As we sat eating Spanish food, three songs in a row which DH used to sing to Mia came on. Neither of us spoke, but just looked at each other with tears in our eyes. That was hard. It brought home our enforced coupledom so strongly.

That evening, we went to a wedding reception of a friend. We had shared wonderfully happy weekend in July last year with her last year, where we met a lovely group of her other friends, people who all fell in love with Mia, especially two pregnant women. As we entered, I realised this was a new first - facing a group of people whom really we only know slightly, since Mia died. While they had all written to us, and donated to Mia's Wood, they hadn't been part of our lives for the past nine months. Even harder, the pregnant women now had their own children in their lives, and we didn't have our gorgeous girl.

I was so very apprehensive, especially when they congratulated me on the pregnancy, but when I talked about Mia, and how her death has made us take this pregnancy each day at a time, they were lovely. So warm, and understanding. I felt very privileged to be on the receiving end of such generosity.

But I hope that another day like that doesn't happen again too soon.

I am living in a suspended reality, as my days are consumed by my Olympic work. Yet, walking across the bridge to the station, surrounded by happy people, and the smiling faces on the advertising hoardings, it suddenly hurt and tears were in my eyes.

We will never know if Mia could have been an Olympian. If she had the talent. The chances are that she wouldn't, but she doesn't even have the opportunity to see what might be possible. That makes me so sad.