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.

I'm sorry it's so hard for you to think about the future that was denied to Mia and to you her parents, and to wonder what she would have achieved in her life. I can appreciate your sadness that you will never know what would have been x

My DH continues to be amazing. He tells me every night how much he loves me, and that he wouldn't be able to go on without me. Yet he is the one who is trawling through all the medical documents we have about Mia, ordering them and cataloguing them for our expert witness, working late in the evening to do so. Most of the time he is fine, but occasionally, he cries. He admitted that last night. He had come home, and gone outside, and discovered that the tarpaulin which covers Mia's sandpit was torn, weakened by the continuing rainpuddles which gathered there over these past months.

We chose that sandpit with such excitement for her birthday, and he was so happy putting it together for her. And Mia loved playing in it, even through she only had such a short time to do so. It gave them both so much pleasure.

Just something else which is ruined...

Still reading. Still listening. The strength, support and love you have for each other is touching. Mia has two wonderful parents. X

Just seen a Mia cloud kiss over the Olympic Village. Much needed. The last few days have been tough.

Shine bright, star of my heart. Shine, ad you are meant to do. Burn bright, my little flame. I wish my love did not hurt so much.

Thank you everlong, yes, some of the songs were hard to hear.

Last night we sat upstairs watching the closing ceremony, and I was sitting on the floor against the sofa. I suddenly had the image and the physical sensation of Mia crawling onto my legs and into my arms, clambering all over me, just as she used to do, using me as a trusted method to reaching the sofa while gaining a cuddle at the same time. The feeling was so very strong. I could then almost see her asleep in the corner of the sofa, as she would sometimes do, tired out from her exertions, but wanting to be part of all the excitement, spread-eagled and with those long eyelashes on her cheeks.

I really can't believe that this is my life. Loving a daughter so much, a little girl who is no longer here. No new moments to cherish.

Please believe me Mia is with you, in every heart beat and every breath. I thought of Mia yesterday and how she loved to play outside, stay strong xxxxxxx

I'm here and listening too. Have listened to your story since your first post.

YOur gorgeous, vibrant DD is still with you. Of that I am sure.

xxx

My dreams don't even allow me a little self indulgence, not an iota of escapism...

I dreamt that I had finished my volunteering, and asked an old friend where Mia was. She pointed, and Mia was sitting at a table, concentrating hard on being baby-busy, as she would do. I called her "baby girl, baby girl...Mia, mummy's here" she looked up and that beautiful smile I know so well appeared on her face, and she reached up her arms. I picked Mia up, cherishing the weight of her body, feeling the softness of her red curls and soft skin against my face... And then woke up.

So brief. So painfully symbolic.

Can't I have a few more moments with her in my dreams? Surely I don't have to face the truth there too?

Mia darling, it was your daddy who said this morning that you would be 23 months old today. I wish we could be planning your birthday party. He would give up every birthday forever for you. We both would. Love you, our beautiful girl.

Love you, love you, love you.

do you have any plans for her birthday?

No plans yet. I have been avoiding thinking about them, because I know that Mia's birthday will herald the start of five weeks that I am thinking of a big, black nightmare, a black hole in the calendar that we have to enter. She died on October 23rd, and in between her birthday and the anniversary of her death, we have her inquest.

So now the Olympics are over, I guess I have a month to somehow, some way, prepare myself for more anguish. I don't know how...

I just want Mia back.

I am so sorry you are having to face this. I hope you feel Mia especially close beside you over the coming weeks. May she fill your thoughts and dreams with light and love. These next few weeks may be a particularly difficult and rocky path on your journey, but you have got this far and you will get through, hopefully to a smoother and gentler path following after.

Dear miasmummy,
Please don't let her birthday be the count down to her death. Just enjoy her her birthday for what it is.
I have sort of been through this, and the two dates are just sidifferent.
Don't be afraid of death anymore, if Mia is buried, take a picnic and spend the day with her. Otherwise spend the day somewhere you feel closest to her, perhaps light a candle or plant a tree xx
Don't try to hide your sadness. Your sadness shows how good it was when Mia was with you xxx

Sorry, that sounds wrong. Whati mean is don't feel bad if you feel sad. Or emotional. It's natural. And not something you should feel bad about x

I don't know how you will do it Miasmummy, but I hope you know you won't do it alone. Take the kindess of strangers and weave it into your shawl of love to protect , warm and comfort you through the dark days ahead.

Talking about my fears helps, even if I cry when I do. Thank you for being here, being part of my shawl of love.

We went to a local bereaved parents' evening last night, and DH commented upon leaving that he found it useful. Very glad about that. Such conversation topics we shared though - people wanting to have fingerprints of their children taken at the hospital, the frustrations of keeping burial plots neat and tidy, the helplessness felt in the face of the giant justice system... yet these topics were still discussed with smiles and with some jokes thrown in, broken by moments of sad reflection. Such morbid topics, but they allow us to demonstrate the intensity love we have for our children, and the ferocity with which we strive to keep their memories alive.

Mia would be so proud of how you & her dad have been keeping her memory alive.

I haven't experienced it myself, but I know people in your situation describe it as being like joining a club, not one that you ever signed up for or wished to join, but something unique which sets you apart and which only people in your situation can fully understand. So I am glad that you and your DH found some comfort and that sense of belonging at the group.

I remember when we had dc1, and that too felt a little like joining some sort of club, it's like a well-kept secret isn't it, that intensity of love which you feel for your child. You try to imagine what it will be like, but its only when you become a parent that you look at your child and know that it's love unlike any other you've experienced.

Mia is still with you in your hearts and minds, she will be with you for the rest of your days. I know that doesn't diminish your pain because you want to hear her and see her and touch her. But my belief is that the real spirit of a person lives on. She is living on in you - I think we can all feel it in your words.

Yesterday was lovely. I felt close to Mia all day, and as DH and I were having a lovely luxurious day in London, it took me a while to figure out why. It was prompted by several factors.

The first was a lunch we had with the expert who is helping us with Mia's inquest. She is so adamant, so sure, of what should have been done, and the possibilities of making real change, that I felt encouraged, despite the other feelings that somehow, Mia can be brought back to us. It was so nice to have an independent person 'on our side'.

The second factor was it looks as though DH and I are soon going to be able to buy a piece of land within walking distance of our home to make Mia's Wood a reality. We spent a lot of the afternoon talking about what we wanted to do, and how we wanted to make it a magical experience of nature for all those who visit it.

The final factor was very simple. I enjoyed myself. I associate such feelings with Mia.

Love you, special smiley girl.

Mia's mummy- I'm glad you felt close to Mia yesterday and it sounds wonderful that your expert is so certain and positive.

I just wanted to send your some thoughts about the time ahead you face.
Mia's birthday and her inquest are going to be hard to endure of course.
But you have already been through the worst thing imaginable with the loss of Mia. You face with loss with such bravery and still manage to fill your life with love and light.
You will be able to have the truth revealed for Mia and honour her birthday with your love because you are brave, loving and a truly inspirational person.
So many people here will be thinking of you all on the days and I hope knowing that we walk alongside you (at least virtually) can provide you some support.
Remember just keep taking the small steps, on your journey ahead especially when the path is hard to follow and your darling girl is right there with you all the way.

Thank you all for your kind support. It is feeling a little better now I am vocalising my fears, although I still don't have any good coping mechanisms figured out. Some people are trying to tell me that I have to get through that 5 weeks so I can think about the new baby in December, but that doesn't sit very comfortably with me. Of course time will keep moving, regardless of how I feel. I know that only too well.

It's just that Mia and her little sibling are different people. I owe each of the them the honour of marking them separately. I have to feel every part of Mia's birthday, inquest and death regardless of what is happening afterwards - I can't shut it off or ignore them. Equally, I also am enjoying every kick I feel of the new life within - yes, a reminder of my pregnancy with Mia, but also, just as importantly, as part of new hope in my life, a new little person to love.

This week, I am having a massive clean-up and clear-out, finding lots of DIY projects which need to be done. I think it is partly a way to gain some level of control in my life, partly as a response to being away for the last four weeks, and perhaps partly that some early nesting instinct is kicking in.

But it was hard yesterday when I was cleaning Mia's photos, when I should be wiping clean her face, hands and hair(!) from her beloved raspberries, squash and porridge, just as I was doing a year ago...