Thursday, 7 March 2013

Steven: The Mask

My little princess, Mia Rose Greenall, was born on 4th June 2012 via caesarean section due to a huge placental abruption. She was born terribly ill because of this and we had to say goodbye to her the following day. This short piece is about how I deal with day to day life since my life was shattered. I have my own blog where I talk about all of my experiences and feelings, please visit and share it:

When I returned home from the hospital the day after saying goodbye to Mia, I was surprised to see something at the side of my bed. It wasn't there when I left 2 days before and I wasn't completely sure what it was for. I left it where it was for a while, still unsure if I should use it or not.

I finally decided to use it when I went back to work, this was a month after we said goodbye to Mia. I put it over my head and there it was, it was a mask that had been left by my bed. Only you can't see it when its on.

It's not easy wearing the mask, it takes a lot of effort but it protects me from the outside world, I feel safe when I've got it on. I put it on when I leave the house and keep it on until I return back home, it's not safe to take it off anywhere else. The mask is making every effort to free itself from my head, but I can't let it go. Its keeping my feelings in check, the world isn't ready to hear my feelings face to face yet, and I don't think I'm ready to share them yet.

The mask does have a weakness though. It doesn't cover my eyes. If I drop my guard for a second at all and you manage to make eye contact, you'll see. You'll see the pain, deep in my eyes. You'll be able to see how deep it goes, deep into my core, you'll see that there's something missing inside me. You'll see that there's a piece of my heart that's gone, my precious little Mia took it with her. I don't begrudge her that, she needs a piece of her daddy with her. This explains the emptiness I feel, but it also means that I'll feel the emptiness forever. The emptiness will only disappear when we meet again.

Until that day Mia, look after that piece of my heart, because I do want it back. But I know when I get it back, I get you back. So just remember this princess, your daddy loves you very much and is so proud of you so until we meet again, look down on us all and keep us all safe.


  1. Thank you Steven for sharing this post with us. I think it is one that all bereaved parents will be able to relate to. We all have that mask sitting and waiting for whenever we need it. It is so tiring wearing that mask but we need it.
    Much love to you and your wife and floaty kisses to beautiful Mia x

  2. Such a moving blog - I think we all know about the mask and you've articulated it perfectly. We all wear one in our house... me, my husband and (most sadly) my lovely 12 yr old daughter who still hasn't told people at her new secondary school about her little sister. Take care all of you & your lovely little Mia x