A month after Lexi’s funeral I thought I would share the words my sister Vikki read at the funeral. I had asked Vikki to read my letter to Lexi and I’m sure that all who attended the funeral would agree she read them so beautifully, I’m sure Lexi was proud of how strong her auntie was in doing so.
As I was growing up my parents taught me the importance of being kind. It wasn’t a spoken lesson, it was in their everyday actions. Still I don’t know anyone else who will say “Good morning” or “hello” to everyone they pass. They are unique in their unwavering kindness to all. It used to be more than a little embarrassing as a teenager but I see now more than ever how important it is to share a smile with people you come across.
Waiting and waiting and then finally the test result showed. PREGNANT. I remember giving a squeal of excitement. After nearly a year of trying we were finally expecting baby number 3. We have always wanted a big family. Friends and family often joking we’d end up with a football team. How naive we were to expect we could decide how many children we would have to fill our home and hearts.
We were lucky I guess that we had people we could call to take us home. We had left our car at the local hospital we had taken Lexi to and gone directly to Great Ormond Street with her in the ambulance. We hadn’t thought we would need to be leaving the hospital again so soon after arriving. Leaving the hospital without our baby. Not long after Lexi had died, as we sat in silent shock, we agreed we must make a decision on a time we would leave so as to be home before our other children’s bedtime. We were lucky I thought to have children at home we could run back to and hug and kiss. I don’t know if we would have ever had been able to leave Lexi’s side if not.
The evening of the day Lexi died I looked to the sky and saw the brightest of stars. I will look to them forever more. Hoping for a sign that our baby is safe, somewhere waiting for us.
“The most likely outcome is your daughter will die.”
The words even now 7 weeks later echo in my head.
In the early hours of Sunday 17th December, it was seemingly all any of the doctors I saw said to me. It was the beginning of a nightmare we are now fighting our way through, attempting each day to survive. And what do you say when someone is repeatedly telling you that your precious 2 day old baby, born perfectly healthy is now more likely to die than survive. It was the start of a lack of words.