Andrew: Milly's Eulogy

We are so very honoured to share this touching and emotional eulogy with you, written by Milly's Daddy and read out at her funeral. Thank you to Milly's Mummy and Daddy for allowing us to share such a personal, brave and beautiful tribute to their little girl.

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I’d first like to thank you all for coming today and honouring the memory of our baby girl. Today is a hard day, we all know that, but we hope to see more smiles than tears today as we try to celebrate a short life filled with love.

With all of that in mind I wanted to say a few words today about my beautiful baby girl Milly Josie Mills. I want to tell you about the things she liked and didn’t like. I don't want to give you the sad story of a most human tragedy because that is not how I want you to remember her. Moreover I want to make you smile and make you understand just how loved this baby girl was going to be.

We had plans to call Milly, Penny Anne. Instead she will always be Milly, simply because that is what we had always called her, Princess Milly Mills. Tyler and Harry sometimes called her Bubby 2, in reference to Harry being called Bubby before he arrived. Harry sometimes called her Princess Fat Pants, which I’m sure sometimes caused a disapproving wiggle. But she was always Milly. And she will always be our Milly.

It often seems that the tragedy of babies that are born sleeping is the perceived lack of a full relationship and that your mourning is based upon the absence of that relationship. Whilst I am sure that can often be the case, I can tell that is certainly not the case with ourselves and Milly.

We knew Milly very well and I’d like to spend some time illustrating to you just how much we knew her...

● Milly was, like many girls, a lover of chocolate. If Kelly indulged in just a small amount of chocolate. We saw loads of wiggles and jiggles. As if urging Mum to "GO GET MORE". A request which Kel was very happy for me to oblige, anytime day or night.

● Milly was not a fan of cold hands however. When I came home from work and had a little hold of Milly in Mummy’s tummy, if my hands were cold she would visibly move to the other side. I could then move my hands to Milly and she would move again. It was a little bit like our first game of tickles.

● Harry seemed to have a theory that Milly could hear better when he spoke through Mum’s belly button. From that we learnt that Milly always had a strong reaction to hearing her brothers voice. Wiggles and Jiggles a plenty. I think she knew that that voice was the sound of fun and laughter and playing all day.

● Milly, like her youngest brother before her, seemed to want to kick out at Tyler’s touch. In fact I remember a six year old Tyler placing an ear to Mum’s tummy only to have the then Bubby and now Harry kick him swiftly in the head. But Tyler still loved to have a hold of Milly and feel her wiggle and jiggle around Mum’s tummy. I think she knew that those hands were those of both her loving elder brother and soon to be “miniDad” and “Chief Protector”.

● Milly loved McFlurry’s. It may have had a lot to do with Kelly loving McFlurry’s. But love them she did and that’s why Kel’s work Friends had called her Milly McFlurry Mills.

● Milly and Mum had an excellent working relationship all day long, well until bedtime at least. Milly would happily be rocked to sleep all day by Mum as she nested and organised and made many lists (Kelly does love to make a few lists). But come bedtime she would be wide awake wiggling and jiggling in glee as she could no doubt hear us laughing as she moved. Was this Princess Milly adoring her limelight? Maybe. And we loved it.

● Milly was definitely going to be Daddy’s Girl. When she was having one of her many wriggles and causing Kel some discomfort Kel would always be amazed at how she would settle immediately when I placed my hands on her (unless they were cold obviously). Daddy’s girl and she always will be.

● When Harry was born he went to Water babies with mum and ever since has loved water. We could already tell Milly was going to be another water baby. When Mum had a bath I could pour a jug of water on to her belly and Milly would spring to life kicking and wiggling and jiggling.

As you can see we already knew Milly so well. She was already a huge part of our family and she always will be. We will miss her, but we will be glad for how much we knew her and how much she lit up our lives.

Cassandra: A Letter to Lukas

Dear Lukas,

Five months ago you were born on the early hour of a Saturday morning. I will never forget that day because I have permanently imprinted it in my heart, mind and soul. The next morning you earned your angel wings, and I will never forget that day as well. I have never felt so much sadness filled with so much love at the same time. When I held you in my arms as you took your last breath it felt like the world had collapsed around me but yet it was such a peaceful and gentle moment. I like to think that the tears I cried at that moment blessed you with my eternal love for you. I wish that my love for you could have healed you and saved you.

Five months on and here we are. I still think about you everyday, I still miss you everyday, and I wonder about you all the time. Five months on and my love for you grows by the second. I never knew this kind of love existed. The kind of airy love that floats around spiritually. Its a love that is alive, a love that is yours.

Love Mummy

xxx

Cassandra writes about her journey of grief, love, hope and trying to find peace after the unexpected loss of Lukas, who died at 26 hours old, on her blog Lukas in the Stars.

James: Good Grief?

When a child dies, you will always be in grief. This grief will follow you to your own grave.

This society measures grief by negative emotions associated with loss and by the volume of tears shed, but this is not the only measurement of grief; sometimes grief is good, providing a constructive outlet for its relentless energy.

Personal walls make it difficult to gauge whether or not someone is grieving. Only those who know what loss is can measure grief; only those who have lost can see through the cracks of the thin veneer of normality that grievers put up in public.

It is easy to label the bereaved, to think that one person suffers more than another. Assumptions that one person's loss is more painful than another's are always flawed; each instance of grief is unique to the individual bond between parent and child. Simply because a griever isn't demonstrating classic signs of grief, such as crying or lethargy, doesn't mean they are not in grief.

Apparently, grief is never uniform, preferring instead to constantly fluctuate. While most days are unbearable, particularly immediately after a loss, some days offer respite. We might even feel happy, imagining our child singing in the clouds around heaven. Alternatively, we might fleetingly forget them, while embroiled in the here and now of our day to day existence. Even on days like this, Grief is energy is always there, thrumming in the background.

Grief can be masked through denial or personal coping mechanisms. It is no surprise that, on average,  parents of the dead tend to endure shorter lives than those who die before their children. Such coping mechanisms could easily take their toll on the living cells that trap our yearning souls; this is destructive grief. In many ways, such denial is a waste of grief.

The energy of grief can be harnessed and channelled into something worthwhile. When this happens, society often doesn't recognise this as being grief, perhaps incorrectly construing it as a signal of the griever's recovery; but there is no recovery to be found in grief, only change.

There are many examples of courageous individuals who have used their grief to make a difference to the world around them, often helping others come to terms with the same tragedy that they endure.

I suggest that an individual's grief remains constant after their child dies; whether this grief is negative or constructive is the variable. You will always be in grief when your child dies, but it does not have to be destructive. There is good grief and bad grief.

You can read more about James and his journey following the stillbirth of his son Ethan on his blog www.fathersgrief.com

Annie: Holding Back the Tears - Part 2

This is the second excerpt of a novel 'Holding Back the Tears' written by a mum who lost her son to suicide. You can read more about Annie and the first excerpt of this novel here:

Annie: Holding Back the Tears - Part 1

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Stiff and rigid, her expression strong and full of purpose, her voice began to quiver as she said "One day I shall be ready to say goodbye to you ME LADDIE but not yet." That very same moment a large heart shape cloud voyaging through its journey in the sky split into two pieces. One part went in one direction, the other part faded out of sight into the unknown.

The candle glow had now dimmed, bringing her reality once again back into the forefront of her mind and she suddenly became aware she could no longer see clouds. All there was left to see was a moonlit starry darkness. Feeling disorientated for a moment, standing at the window, Rosie shuddered when the coldness from the window pane touched her face. Tiredness and a very, very deep-rooted sadness, which she had never experienced in the whole of her 42 years of life, hit her as she reached for another candle to light it with the one sitting on the ledge with its glow now barely visible. She then walked away from the window taking a last glance at the comforting flame which reflected her image onto the glass. Looking back at her stood an image she hated. What she saw was a Rosie Gilmour she no longer recognised.

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The phone rang out loud in the quietness of the house, travelling up the stairway into the bedroom where Rosie lay sleeping trying to make up for the sleep she had lost. Her heart pounding as she wakened on hearing the ringing, she began to scream.

When her screams subsided she looked around the bedroom then the deep feeling of sadness swept over her once more. Weakness gripped her soul and body, setting every nerve in her body on edge. Laying her head back down to rest on the pillow, Rosie closed her eyes again, blocking out the fact she was not dreaming. Her son was dead. It was a fact. He was indeed dead.

The word dead was too much to bare: it was a word that meant to her final. She decided there and then she would exchange it for ''Me Laddie is having a rest.''

Final would mean to her she had already said goodbye to Finlay and had accepted he was not coming back and she was not prepared to do that. Not yet. "I'm never going to ever see Me Laddie ever again."

"Not yet,'' she  repeated to herself over and over, "not yet."

Whenever feelings of overwhelming sadness incapacitated her ability to function in her normal day to day living chores, she would retreat to her bedroom and reach for a journal she kept under her bed. There, she would write down her emotions through writing poetry from her most inner thoughts. This she did in her Scottish dialect then recite them aloud.

I COVER MA FACE

IS THIS WHIT THEY CAW

THE HUMAN RACE

HE TOOK HIS LIFE

NAE ONE KENS WHY

THIS IS WHY I CRY

TEARS TELL NAE LIE

OH THE PAIN I FEEL

DEEP INSIDE.

NIGHTFALL COMES

INSTEAD OH SLEEP

ME EEN ARE OPEN WIDE

I SEE HIS FACE I FEEL HIS TOUCH

I KEN HE IS BY ME SIDE

I SAY WORDS NAE

MITHER KIN HIDE

DEEP IN MA HERT

IS NAETHING BUT SORROW

I TREASURE TODAY

AS YE NEVER KEN TELL

WHIT  WILL COME  TOMORROW.

She was startled by a voice, a sweet soft gentle voice saying "What can be done to help you?" In a low whisper she said, "give me a new heart maybe." Rosie believed if she did not display her true feelings or answer any questions which came her way she would stop any detection in her voice of how she really felt inside. She said quietly, "There is nothing anyone can do to help me but if anyone can give me back Me Laddie then that is all I need.''

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The full novel is now available on Amazon and can be accessed via the following links:

UK - Holding Back The Tears
US - Holding Back The Tears
It is also available on Amazon for Germany, France, Spain & Italy