top of page

Grace - 11.03.2023 - 17.03.2023

Sofia's Wish

On March 11th 2023 I gave birth to our beautiful second daughter, Grace. On March 17th 2023 she died.

 

Grace was a perfectly healthy baby girl, however on her 6th day at 6am we woke up to her taking her last breaths. We had zero warning signs other than that she was a little off her milk on her last feed, having fed beautifully all day. Grace had contracted a common virus that made it into her bloodstream and caused septicaemia, this overwhelmed her body in a matter of a couple of hours and she didn’t have a mature enough immune system to fight it. We have been told that there is nothing that could have changed the outcome for her, she simply slipped away whilst sleeping and felt no pain. 

 

I have toyed whether to share this now for several months, this is such a personal journey of love, loss and trauma, and we are very private people, still very much processing all of this. The concept of sharing such deep emotions online is not an easy or natural thing for either Matt or myself, we tend to keep ourselves to ourselves for the most part. I also feel that posting about her is in some way letting go of a little bit more of the little we have left of her, and as a mother I am desperate to keep all of her all to myself, to protect her as much as I am capable of, even though she is not physically here. However, what I have come to realise is that firstly none of this is comfortable and it never will be; secondly, I will never lose what I have left of her - she will always be with me; thirdly - this is not about me, and last and most importantly - she deserves to be known. 

 

When you bring your baby home you are in control of pretty much everything - when to announce your perfect new arrival on social media or to your wider group of friends if you ever choose to do so, telling people the name you have chosen for them, when people are allowed to start visiting and what the rules are when they do. That baby is yours; they’re wrapped up in this newfound deep love you have for them and your little family is cocooned in this bubble of protection. You can choose who can come in to your bubble to visit, ask them to wash their hands and take off their shoes; not kiss your baby or maybe not even come over at all. People don’t often pry for more information other than the basics; how much did she weigh? Have you thought of a name yet? Did the birth go well? 

 

When your baby dies, all of that control goes out of the window. We went from having our perfectly healthy daughter sleeping beautifully by my side in her next to me crib like every other night to date, to performing CPR, welcoming hordes of service crew, air ambulance workers and police into our house and bedroom. All

control was lost in that moment. I have come to realise that there is a version of myself before Grace and a version of me after her - we are not the same person. We were told there was nothing more that could be done, told to take our time but to get dressed and bring her downstairs so that we could be escorted to the children’s hospital. We sat in the “Rainbow Room” of the BRI and were spoken to by several people and told what was going to happen. Grace would be taken from us, tests would be done, we would not get her back from that point onwards and a full post mortem would be performed. There was nothing we could do about any of it. Within a matter of 2 hours, we had woken up, witnessed our daughter die, been told what was going to happen to her and have her taken away. We were then left in our empty house with empty arms. 


You’re in a daze, watching your life be performed like an episode of an awful, unbelievable TV drama. 

 

The lack of control you have in this situation is overwhelming. Not only are there very few choices to be made, it is simply a path already drawn that you have to walk down, but you’re too broken as a person to understand what is going on around you to stand up for yourself, or your child. You’re in a daze, watching your life be performed like an episode of an awful, unbelievable TV drama. 

 

Following this, the news of our daughter’s death spread like wildfire. Naturally there are people who need to know so you pluck up to courage to call them immediately, mums, dads, sisters, grandparents and then that’s it, everyone knows, you can’t stop it. Don’t get me wrong, I certainly told a few more people what happened in those first few days as it felt like a weight off my chest to a certain extent but I have since had complete strangers come up to me in the street to give me their condolences, people crying in front of me who I barely know, and strangers gifting me things and sending me messages of support. For nearly all I am grateful for, but it is also overwhelming and traumatising to know that your daughters’ death is gossip for many and being spoken about without your input. Yes, it is tragic, but this is our tragedy, our daughter, who I brought into this world, held in my arms and protected from the outside world as best I could for the time I was given, I hadn’t let her go out into the world willingly yet, she was supposed to still be all ours, wrapped in our family cocoon.

 

Losing Grace is quite simply the most devastating thing that has ever happened to us, that I hope will ever happen to us and there is no comparable. Losing a child is like nothing else, the depth of grief is unimaginable to those who have not experienced it and even for those who have - as every one of those losses and traumas are different. It is all incredibly complex and months down the line I’m still overwhelmed with the emotions and lack of control over it all. No parent should ever have to experience anything like this. 

 

Grace has touched the hearts of so many people. We held a large funeral where I got up to speak about her. I felt like it was my one opportunity to speak her name and spread her story to as many people as possible. There were many tears shed but the love was palpable.

Although we are grieving and trying to control what we have left of Grace, what I came to realise very quickly is that this is not about me, it’s not about Matt and it’s not about her sister Yvie. This is solely about Grace. She is her own person, she was here for 6 days and wow, what a beautiful 6 days they were, if only I could go back and relive them again and again. Keeping her to myself isn’t fair on her, however much I may want to. Quite simply put, she deserves to be known by everyone, her name deserves to be shouted from the rooftops for decades to come and most importantly her name deserves to be spoken with smiles on people’s faces, not quickly followed by how sad her story is or how sorry people feel for us. Grace’s death may be completely tragic, I can feel her loss intensely every day, however her existence was and continues to be incredibly powerful. She may have only been here for 6 days but in that short time she has managed to impact so many people’s lives in such a big and beautiful way. More than many of us manage to do in much longer lifetimes. She has provided me with a completely altered outlook on life - every second of every day is cherished. No longer do I feel unsatisfied, like I’m not giving enough or achieving my potential, if all I ever manage to achieve is to give Yvie the best childhood possible, be the most loving, patient and present mother and make Grace proud in the process, then I have won. I constantly look at Yvie and thank my lucky stars at how amazing she is. I love her intensely, even more than I did before Grace died, because I have witnessed first-hand how truly fragile life is and how blessed we are to have a healthy, happy daughter here with us. Even the tantrums are appreciated now and when the monitor goes off and she has woken up, I’m genuinely grateful - she’s still here and she is the biggest gift. 

 

Grace has touched the hearts of so many people. We held a large funeral where I got up to speak about her. I felt like it was my one opportunity to speak her name and spread her story to as many people as possible. There were many tears shed but the love was palpable. I have had countless people, friends and strangers since tell me how they think about her every day, how some say good morning to her picture each morning; how they cherish their loved ones all that more since she has left us; how they’ve picked their kids up, thrown away the phones and tablets and taken them away for a weekend; how they’ve sat and hugged their children and partners more tightly and relished the moments of having them there with them. I have friends looking at changing their careers because her death has given them a bigger perspective on life and what is really important. She has taught us to slow down, be kinder and gentler on each other; to not waste time and to also take some leaps of faith, as things can change in a heartbeat. She has taught us to not sweat the small stuff - health and happiness are all that matter, and at the end of the day, if you’re tucking your child in at night then you’re winning at this game of life. Grace has certainly focussed my mind on what I want and don’t want, and allowed me to connect with people on a deeper, more meaningful level. She has enabled me to make new friendships in circles that I never thought we would be a part of and has deepened friendships I already had. 

She has made me realise that if I can get through this, I can get through anything. 


So please speak her name, tell her story, but do me a favour - please smile as you do so. I can’t bear the thought of her memory being spread as a sad story when she embodies nothing but love and positivity in our eyes.

 

So please, know that Grace was here, and although her passing is incredibly sad, her life was not - she was deeply loved, cuddled and surrounded by nothing but joy and adoration for those entire 6 days. Not many people can say that all they have experienced in life is pure, intense love. What she has left us all with is nothing short of amazing- I never feel alone now, I can literally feel her with me wherever I go. She has impacted me more than anyone ever has. So please speak her name, tell her story, but do me a favour - please smile as you do so. I can’t bear the thought of her memory being spread as a sad story when she embodies nothing but love and positivity in our eyes. Please remember to hug your loved ones so tightly every day, to breathe them in, remember what they smell like, how they sound and what they feel like in your arms as you hold them. Take endless videos, not just photos. Frame the best photos you do have, so you look at them every day, and smile. No amount of time on this earth is guaranteed, so take your opportunities to tell those you love just how much you do. 

 

Grace, thank you for doing this journey with me, thank you for being you, I’m just so desperately sad that we got so little time together. I have no doubt that you are up there waiting for us, being looked after by your great grandparents until we come to get you. For now, please know how endlessly we love you and that will see you again when the time is right. If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever. 


Grace's mum

37 views1 comment

Recent Posts

See All

1 Comment


Guest
Jul 17, 2024

Thank you for sharing your beautiful love for Grace. Rose's mum

Like

© 2023. Powered and secured bywix

bottom of page