Milana Matilda Rose *photo added*
Hi all
I have posted elsewhere on the site just after i lost my darling daughter, but for all those that only read this section here is my story.
My beautiful much anticipated darling little daughter was born at 40 weeks and 6 days.
She was taken from us so quickly, labour started at 1.06am 23.02.09, waters broke after 2 contractions 12 minutes later.
Went off to hossy asap, contrations 2 mins apart, got there (30 mins away) to lots blood on pad which they thought was a show.
Had an internal, they couldn't find the cervix, pain became unbearable, ob eventually checked me and off we went for emergency cs, I had been in the hospital for about half an hour by this point (much too long for my precious baby).
At 3.11am Milana Matilda Rose was born, with a heartbeat but not breathing, it took them over a hour in resus to get her to breath.
She was taken to NICU on a ventilator.
I had had a almost fatal for me as well, uterine rupture, which in the doctorrs words, 'dessimated the uterus'. It did not split on the old scar tissue and couldn't have been predicted, it is apparently rare. My poor little girl was not in the uterus anymore, she was just in the abdominal cavity, the placenta had sheared and cut off her oxygen supply, she had ingested Meconium and blood.
She was pronounced brain dead, a day and a half later and we had to switch off the machine, she had been with us for just over 42 hours. She passed away in my arms.
I then had time to bath, dress and cuddle my darling daughter before I gave her up for the last time.
She was so beautiful, my heart is breaking, and I miss her so much.
It has now been 8 weeks since I lost my little girl and it still hurts so much, here are the poems that I had for her funeral, she is known as the Butterfly, everything I have to remember her is symbolised this way:
The Butterfly
They had her there, resting on the palm of their hands for a while.
She was all they ever wanted.
Sometimes her wings were closed.
Motionless.
At other times, in their dreams, she spread her wings open in the bright sunshine,
displaying her colourful patterns.
They truly loved her.
She knew that.
They told her she was special and beautiful, they saw the beauty.
They appreciated her true colours.
But they couldn't keep her.
They knew that.
She was born to fly.
She had been beautiful in their hands, but in flight she soared.
In the garden amongst the colourful, sweet-fragranced flowers.
Her habitat.
Free.
In letting her go, they made her happy.
But she would always have their warmth and love.
Always and forever.
For all of eternity.
or this one, that I am hoping to put on the grave stone:
A butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam,
and for a brief moment,
its glory and beauty belong to our world.
But then it flies on again,
and though we wish it could have stayed,
we feel lucky to have seen it at all.
Thanks everyone for reading.
