My heart

It's been a year since I held you. My precious little girl; you're my waking thought and my evening solace. I still remember how warm you felt, how you smell and the tiny cries when you were being brave having needles and lines stuck in you.

My heart is still broken, you never came home but I was at home when I was with you. You were only tiny, but you had a massive spirit. I could see your personality when I looked in your beautiful blue eyes. You had your Daddy's eyes and my fingers and toes.

I have so many happy memories of you, the first time I saw you, the first time I held you, the first time you looked at me, the first time you held my hand with that tight grip. We did your cares, I got to wash your face, change your nappy and arrange your bedding.

You had two major operations on your tummy, first one was a success. Within 2 weeks you were being weened onto my milk, millileter at a time you were getting stronger. The doctors and surgeons were so impressed with you, such a clever little girl. Your lungs were so strong, you could breathe on your own for 20 minutes at a time. I'll never forget your face. Such a beautiful, perfectly formed and tiny face. Without all the breathing apparatus, we got to see you. You were just amazing.

I'll never forget the day when I couldn't leave you. I knew you weren't happy. I knew you were in pain. I knew I could do nothing to stop it. I held your tiny hand, I watched you cry. I hurt everytime tiny tears rolled down your face. I knew that it wasn't right. We left for an hour and the call came. It was the nurse telling us we should come back to see you. We raced back as fast as we could, you were hooked up to more machines and you were lying still. No longer the CPAP machine, but on the ventilator. The doctor said it wasn't good. The big tall surgeon came by to tell us that he wanted to see how you progressed overnight, he didn't want to have to open up your tummy too soon. I sat one side of you and daddy the otherside, we both held your hands. We both willed you to get better.

We stayed next door to you all night, whilst the lovely surgeon, doctors and nurses monitored you. Your breathing started to stabilise, but you were everso poorly. Mr W, the surgeon told me and your daddy he'd have to operate in the morning. We signed the scary consent forms to allow him to go ahead.

We waited, it was agonising. We waited some more. We paced the room, the clock seemed to standstill.

An hour and a half later, we could see the surgeon, doctor and nurses coming towards our room. Mr W, the doctor and nursed came in, we sat down. We were told that you wouldn't be with us for long. I've never known what it's like to have my heart taken away from me, but I did from that moment. I wanted to rip the walls down, I wanted to scream. I cried, I was sick. This couldn't be happening to you. We are supposed to protect you, we are supposed to see you grow up, speak your first words, take your first steps, encourage you on your first day of school. Your dad would comfort you when a boy broke your heart and I would cry when you looked so beautiful on your wedding day.

We took you into our room next door and we sat with you. Slowly, all the equipment was taken away and we were left with you. Just me, daddy and you. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Daddy and I took it in turns to cuddle you, you were so warm all wrapped up in the blanket. Your eyes were open, but they started to close. The nurse came in and listened to your heart; "she's still here," she said, then she left us. You were still with me and daddy, you were such a little fighter. I kissed your head, with soft beautiful light red hair. We didn't want to let you go. I've never felt pain like this, your life was slipping away in our arms and we couldn't help you. The nurse listened again, "she's still here," you were sleeping now, the nurse left us again. Your eyes were closed and you looked so peaceful. We talked to you, we told you we loved you, how proud we were of you. We didn't want you to be on your own in this journey, we wanted you to hear our voices until you fell alsleep.

Nurse E came back and listened to your heart. "She's gone to sleep now." Our beautiful baby girl, you were at peace now. No more scary operations, no more needles, cannulas, blood pressure sleeves, test after test, after test. You were free now. We held onto you, crying like we could never, ever stop. Our hearts are broken and nothing will fix them. The nice doctor came in and made it official, that Autumn Selina Charlotte Hovey, the little girl with the big name, was gone. I told the doctor that I couldn't let you go on anymore in pain, I couldn't see you wired up to those machines anymore. The nice doctor said I was thinking like a mummy.

I thought I would die from the pain I felt, but I haven't. I suffer day in and day out knowing that I watched your life slip away in our arms. I try to think about the all the lovely times we had together, but the dark cloud of that day spoils my thoughts. We can't and never will get over losing you, no parent should outlive their children.

I've been missing you so much the past week or so, we just had your birthday and we're coming up to that horrible day when we said goodbye.

I'll always remember you, my sweet girl. You have changed my life forever, I will always love you. Big kiss X