"You Light The Skies Up Above Me, A Star So Bright You Blind Me" Remembering all our precious children.

[fioled]

For my beautiful baby Anabelle Violet, loved and missed to the moon and back, always xxx How hard we wish that you were here baby girl.

Twinkle twinkle little star,
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

For all our babies and children, big and small xx

'Even my family, who I know miss him, don't miss him on the same scale as we do, so I would prefer to not even see them, because to me they act as though nothing has happened, whereas my life is ruined.'

YY. I have already warned my sister that the ONLY reason we're going to teh US for Xmas is because of DD2. I get sick to death of her attempts to be cheerful when my daughter only died nearly 4 months ago.

The other day she wrote on FB that she'd ordered a bunch of baking moulds so 'All Papa's girls can bake together.' I felt like being sick! I wrote, 'Well, one of them won't be.'

I'm thinking of sending DD2 and DS to hers so I can get away from all that bunk.

Sadly, my parents have a number of friends who lost their children young, before they reached an age at which they could have their own lives or children. I'd rather hang out with them, IYKWIM.

And that is exactly how we feel - our lives are irrevocably, in a major way, sort of fucked. No matter how we go on, her short life and death is something we will carry sadness over, like, as said, a chronic illness.

CLICSargent has a holiday facility for families of those affected by cancer and they block it out at time for only the families of those whose child has died.

We're going to go for a week in Spring.

I agree with the post saying what you are all suffering it totally different than when an old person dies

but I lost my mum a few weeks ago and this "'Even my family, who I know miss him, don't miss him on the same scale as we do, so I would prefer to not even see them, because to me they act as though nothing has happened, whereas my life is ruined."

sums up exactly how I feel

and the fb thing - yy to that too

Expat the holiday sounds like a good idea for you, although part of me still wants to shy away from being part of such a club :(

I met with a lady last week who had lost her DD in terrible circumstances, at about the same age as my DS, & it was such a relief! How awful that I was happy that she understood without being told of the dread I feel in most social environments. I think we would probably have been friends anyway as we've lots of other stuff in common but, if anything, I've avoided making contact because I didn't want to talk to her just because we'd both lost children. Such is my life now: I can't be friends with the 'normal' families cos some of them look at me with barely disguised horror/pity when they find out; & I don't want to force friendship with those who understand...

We're going with another family whose daughter was in the unit with Aillidh, Hely, and another family of a girl they knew from the unit who died about a month after Aillidh.

So in that sense, it's strangely something to look forward to because we really like the couple, came to know them quite well in teh unit, and they have a little boy the same age as DS.

But otherwise, I know what you mean. We're everyone's worst nightmare now.

I think we should hold fast to those who help us feel ok, expat, & if that means similar experiences of loss, then so be it. There are some surprisingly empathetic people out there, though, who haven't (yet) experienced such loss & they are lovely surprises. I am ridiculously sensitive now to people's responses - just normal stuff, not necessarily anything to do with DS - & find it really hard to get past negativity of any kind. I cherish my friends (old & new) now & hope they know that xx

expat I echo chip that letter was like a virtual slap! I am so horrified on your behalf xx

white I know it sounds stupid, but try not to worry too much about your DD. They are incredibly resilient, our little ones. Yes, life has changed, yes, it's hard to make the right choices, and we will always question how we've done, but if we weren't here, if we hadn't lost children, then we'd still worry about doing the right thing. I hope you're doing OK? xx

I just wanted to add to this another (imo) truth, and that is how lonely it is. Yes, we are others worst nightmares, but it is so lonely, and awkward always having to second guess what is coming next.

I know a couple (not sure if I've mentioned this before). They are more DH's friends than mine (I didn't really get on with the woman, she is so pushy & domineering, but nice enough I guess). They came up to us one day, just after we'd come back from the cemetery. They asked about Tamsin, but could tell from our faces that something had happened, and we didn't want to talk.

The woman had 4 grown sons, she never saw anymore, and she had two little DDs with her (now) OH. I thought how lucky they were... how easy it was for them. I saw him a month ago, and we talked. He said he was sorry about Tamsin (I guess our neighbours must have said), and he said he knew what I was going through. I was a bit . Then he told me about their 18 month old DD who'd died (in between the two girls). I was stunned. I had no idea, they'd never mentioned her... and why would they? To someone who (at the time) they thought was lucky.

This made me realise that everyone else I envy may have their own stories, their own tragedies, and that loneliness, fear and others reactions have made sharing them so taboo xxxx

I still shy away from being in situations with people I don't really know, although tonight I went to a pre-natal yoga class, as it would be nice to have friends with babies the similar age as this one. I was late and flustered, and talked more about Mia than this baby... I do feel a bit like a pariah, even though my SIL is in the same class.

Mia's death is feeling very weird at the moment. The anniversary of her death is at 03.26 on Wednesday morning. So technically, last Sunday this time last year, was when we took her to hospital. We were grieving this Monday last year. It feels like it happened to another person, and like tamisara I don't want to delve into those memories and feelings, especially as we went over and over her last few hours at her inquest last week. I don't want this to be my life. But it is. I feel as though this first remember day is a huge milestone, and somehow, Mia's importance in my life will recede, getting smaller and smaller, from now on. I don't want that to happen, ever. Yet I still feel her cuddles, I still see her smile. How can it be a year?

It's very lonely, Tamisara.

MAM, Mia's importance in your life will never fade.

We received Mia's death certificate today too.

Oh, Mia's mum!

That is such a hard, awful thing.

It's so stark.

Aillidh had 3 primary causes of death, the last was her cancer.

I guessed what was in the envelope as I saw it was from the council registrar. But it was addressed to MrMia, so I didn't open it.

So that's it then.

I think I prefer my fantasy world. Anyone want to join me? Where our children are here, driving us delightfully mad with their antics, but being there for cuddles and love.

Oh, I prefer our old life indeed, Mia's mum.

And you know, I didn't even take that for granted, not for a minute.

I didn't take it for granted either. I knew I was blissfully happy and incredibly fortunate. Mia was the best thing that ever happened in our lives.

I feel the same about Aillidh.

I thought I'd never be able to have a child at all.

Oh, Mias , what an awful shock for you. I know that it wasn't unexpected but still... the words, so final.
I dream of a heaven where it will all be OK.

I hadn't had a sign in ages, nothing. I wondered if I'd been forgotten. So I told her "I still need you, please come back, please give me a sign."
And found a white feather on the grassy verge of the pavement.

I felt so complete when we had Sylvie-Rose. Not that I felt incomplete as such with the boys but I had always felt that I would have a little girl and always felt she was missing.
Now I wonder if I was meant to want her so much so that it would be all the more painful when she was gone. That the pain was what was meant for me.

And no matter how I shout at the universe that I don't and can't accept this, the reality stares me down like a stone cold statue. People don't come back from the dead, they never have and they never will and an exception will not be made for me.

chip I love your clever little Sylvie-Rose. It's easy to tell she adores her mummy.

She is very advanced, Mias, if I say so myself.

She got a gold star in class today. Most of the others only got nebulae.

Today was ok, tonight I am counting down the hours... beautiful Mia. I am so, so proud of you.

Here with you, Mia's mum! The anniversaries are so hard.

Thinking of you Mias, you've had such a lot on your plate. Hope this evening passes peacefully xxx

My candle is lit here for you Mias - it has been lit for at least 10 hours a day for the past two weeks....it is comforting in a weird kind of way IYKWIM??? xxx

i'm also thinking of you mias mummy.

Now feeling extra-sad. What is it with October 24th? We have just had a message that a friend's step-daughter, who suffered serious injuries in an recent riding accident, is likely to have her ventilator turned off tomorrow. A year ago it was Mia. The year before, a dear friend of MrMia died of cancer. And the year before that, MrMia had to tell the rest of his family that his father only had weeks to live... we had so hoped this year that things would be different. It seems not.